Smile On His Lips and Cuts On His Hips (Jalex)

Nine - Last Resorts

I unlocked the door, pushing it open and letting out a strangled yawn as I stepped inside. Long ass day, and all I really wanted to do was go lie down and listen to music, possibly get granted some miracle and actually manage to take a nap, relax for a while so my head didn't explode.

But, lucky me, I had two tests tomorrow, a project due at the end of the week, and math homework on a subject I couldn't possibly understand less. Maybe if I paid attention in class instead of mentally singing I wouldn't have an issue, but, whatever, too late.

Shrugging my overloaded backpack onto the kitchen table, I walked to the fridge, hoping we actually had food that was quick, easy, and somewhat edible in the house. I was practically starving to death, due to lack of not being able to motivate myself out of bed until twenty minutes after my alarm startled me awake that morning, causing me to skip the first two meals of the day. To further my fantastic state, my head was also pounding from what was either stress or dehydration - I'd never really been sure what caused the frequent ailment.

Pulling open the fridge, I grabbed a bottle of Advil, aiming for two pills and frowning when half the fucking bottle spilled into my palm. I dumped almost all of them back, sticking the bottle on its shelf and beginning to search the chilled drawers as I swallowed three pain killers dry.

After finding nothing but stir fry from last week and raw ingredients that wouldn't constitute a meal taking less than an hour to compose in the fridge, I switched to the cabinets. Chex mix, seaweed, nuts, pretzels, soup crackers and uncooked pasta filled our main cupboard. Wonderful.

I sighed, resigning to grab a bag of plain pop chips hidden behind a box of grape nuts, slamming it closed and pulling a ginger ale our of the nearly empty case. Hopefully that would aid in dispelling my head ache sooner.

A quick search of the house determined that I was home alone. I was fairly positive that May was staying after school to work on some History project with her friends, mom was at work until after six, and dad... I actually had no idea where he was. He worked as a handy man/contractor, job best described as a guy who fixed things around the house but wouldn't build them himself. The man worked for himself, on his own schedule, and would be home whenever he felt like it. The later, the better, if you asked me.

Our last fight had been resolved long ago, weak apology from him and half hearted acceptance on my part ending the matter. I was seriously starting to doubt whether my father was ever remorseful for his actions - if someone feels bad about something, wouldn't the logical thing to do be not do it again? But I was sure that he'd flip out over some stupid mistake again in the next couple of weeks, and leave me having a mental breakdown on my own. The never-ending cycle: get pissed, yell at me, so sincerely apologize, repeat.

So it was easier to just avoid him, because, well, you can't shout at someone you never see. Anyways, half the time when I greeted him, dad asked me to do a chore or reprimanded me for fucking something up. An actual conversation from last week had consisted of me saying hello, and him replying that I hadn't locked the door after leaving earlier. That was fun.

I slung my backpack over one shoulder, balancing the now open soda can and bag of chips in my hand, slumping down the hall to my room. The sooner I got started on my work, the sooner I could pass out.

___

Over five hours and one painfully awkward family dinner later, I was having a stare down with my History textbook on the floor of my room. Why I was on the floor, I had no idea. I'd just never really made it to the bed or my incredibly uncomfortable desk chair when initially starting earlier, and ended up spreading out all my shit on the ground with no intention or incentive to move it.