Indescribable

Chapter Five

I was still laying on the couch 20 minutes later, scrolling through my phone, looking for notifications from honestly anyone that I knew would never show up, when my dad walked in after his day of work. He worked in mechanics and smelt of shop and oil.

"How was work, was it busy?" I asked with a slight grin on my face. I guess it wasn't that funny, but I asked him that question every day as soon as he walked in and it had almost become a tradition.

He grunted a reply, which made me frown. I guess it was a bad day. I put down my phone on the coffee table, knowing he was going to yell at me, saying we waste our lives away on devices, before going up to my room to get my book. My sister was currently FaceTiming her boyfriend, so I just slipped the upper half of my body through the door and snatched my book off of our dresser.

I was halfway back down the stairs when I realized my dad was going to call me a lazy ass, whether I was 'using my brain' for an activity, such as reading, or 'wasting my life on a phone.' I didn't want to deal with that.

I started walking back. 'What if you slipped and fell down the stairs. Remember when your teacher broke her arm falling down the stairs?'

I glanced down the stairs. Surely that wouldn't be a far enough fall for me to break a bone, also, it was only half a fall down, because I wasn't at the top, right?

'You should try, prove that you won't break a bone. Just pretend to slip. Come on now.'

I was staring at the stairs, a million things running through my head. If I fell, would my dad be mad or worried? He had been in a crappy mood, so I think both are likely. Would I get a concussion if I fell the wrong way? Then I would have to go to the hospital, which was not ideal in the slightest. And what if my head hit the corner of the wood stairs just perfectly, causing my head to bleed and therefore requiring me to get stitches. Another unwanted trip to the hospital. Even with all of this spiralling through the back of my mind, somehow all I could hear was, 'Do it.'

"Briar?"

"Hm?" I snapped my head around to see my sister at the top of the stairs with a slightly puzzled look on her face. Irene, my sister, was wearing absolutely nothing special, looking very comfortable in her sweats and boyfriend's t-shirt she stole. Even so, with no makeup and her hair in an odd-looking messy bun, she looks beautiful as ever. I envied her.

"Jackson and I are going to play Spikeball, you coming?" Spikeball was a usual activity at my house, although it was slowly getting a little too cold for it.

"No I'm okay, I have a book." I held it up and smiled.

"Pleeeeease?" She asked.

I shrugged and just went up the stairs and into my room to read. I heard Irene say "Ugh," ever so quietly, proceeding to go down the stairs and into our small backyard. I heard the loud noise of the glass sliding door open, as well as the sound of my cat's, named Prince, footsteps running toward the great outdoors. He loved going outside and came scurrying each time the door was opened.

I jumped onto my bed I hadn't bothered to make this morning and opened my book to begin reading. The book has the perfect scent to it, smelling freshly printed with an undertone of someone's unknown scent of a candle. I smiled at the comfortable feeling and opened to page one, beginning a new book since the other one was way too cheesy for my liking. I started reading but quickly realized I was retaining none of the information and that my thoughts had been else. I was mainly thinking back to the scenario on the stairs, playing out what would have happened if I did fall, or what if Irene had seen me purposefully fall. I tried to put it aside, I really did, and I began again reading again from page one. I concentrated, making sure I understood the characters' traits, prepared to be baffled by their character development by the end. I read each word carefully to make certain my thoughts didn't drift again. Despite the fact, my thought did drift and I quickly lost interest.

I closed the book, not bothering to bookmark my page for I knew I would just be restarting the next time I picked the book up and went back downstairs. I raced down the stairs so I didn't have enough time to think about throwing myself down them, a new fear I supposed I was going to have to deal with now, and peaked my head into the kitchen to see how my dad was. Sometimes his mood improves, but normally once he's in a crappy mood, he is all day.

See it wasn't normally my dad in the bad mood though, that was more of my mom's thing. My dad tended to be more level-headed and only yell when he's really mad. He often comes home in a fine mood, normally a little tired, before he makes dinner with the help of some of my siblings or me, naps and then we might play a game or something. My mom on the other hand is in a bad mood more often than not. She has outbursts saying she's stressed about work, she cries, blames it on everyone else and worries about money. It goes away after a few days, but I really wish she didn't bring up money and debt and threaten me to help around the house by saying, 'I don't have time to do it because I have to work, and if I don't work, we will lose this house.' It's draining some days, but my complaining would just worsen it.

My dad seemed fine, so I walked into the kitchen and leaned on the counter. "Need any help making dinner?" I asked so he would at least not complain that no one helps around the house. I saw him cutting up chicken, which we have almost every day, and breaking apart pieces of lettuce. We were probably having Caesar salad wraps or some variation of that.

He waited a few moments before answering and saying, "You can clean it up after." I nodded, although I hated cleaning up dinner, and went into the living room.

I threw myself onto the couch and stared up at our off-white ceilings, which somehow had a few stains on them. How the ceiling becomes stained, I have no idea. I saw shapes in the stained, one of which looked like a deformed face, perhaps it was screaming, maybe tired of being stuck in their own body. I could imagine how that feels.

My phone buzzed and I looked away from my imaginary art piece to see that I had a text, it might be the first time in years.

'Unknown Number,' It said.

"I've thought of the favour I want."