How long does it take for Tylenol to get rid of a throbbing headache?
The answer is longer than 5 minutes.
My dad was already gone in the morning when I was woken up at 8:45 am by Ares knocking on my bedroom door. Loudly. I just let him pound on my door and yell at me to 'get my ass out of bed' for 10 minutes before finally getting up.
Once I groaned and got out of bed, I told him to shut up because I was up.
I guess he didn't believe me because he continued to knock until I opened my door. Which I did after I threw an oversized t-shirt on. Once I opened the door I saw him standing there, no sign of being tired on his face. No sign of any emotion, actually. He said, "Finally, you have 5 minutes."
I slammed my door shut and took a Tylenol, changing into some clean clothes before brushing my teeth and hair.
And now I'm sitting in his car and driving to my class.
I looked over at him and asked, "How the hell are you not tired? Oh, you haven't been updated to that program yet?"
He just shrugged. Didn't respond. Didn't care. I narrowed my eyes at him and said, "You are a literal psychopath."
"Stop it. You're gonna make me blush," his emotionless voice spoke sarcastically.
I rolled my eyes. I do like him more when he's not talking.
I'm not sure why he drives us everywhere when I have a perfectly good car of my own in the garage. I've only ever hit 3 people before and 1 dollar store.
I expected him to be silent for the entire drive, but his cold voice spoke, "Why are you making that face?"
"I'm hungover and you drive like a lunatic."
I was clenching my teeth together, trying to keep myself from throwing up last night's dinner.
"My sincerest apologies," he replied before jerking the wheel to make us swerve for a moment. Purposefully.
I held onto the bottom of my seat while fighting back the puke rising in my throat from the sudden movement. I scoffed slightly, "You know what? That little plan of yours didn't work. And even if it did, this is your car. And I'd make sure to puke all over your precious leather seats."
The robot rolled his eyes.
"You know, I think I'm nauseous because I'm around you," I say. "Not because of the alcohol."
He jerks the wheel again. I learned to shut the fuck up for the rest of the drive.
He parked in front of my new university, and I thought that was going to be it. But then I heard him get out behind me. I rolled my eyes while letting out a sigh.
I turned around and told him while holding my hand over my heart in a sarcastic way, "I'll make it to my class just fine, although I appreciate the concern."
"You're fine until somebody jumps your ass and your dad fires me," he says, walking beside me across the yard. "Believe it or not but it's hard to get a job after being locked up for 5 years."
Of course, all he cared about was getting fired. I let out a sigh, holding my paper in my hands that was telling me where to go. As we walked down the hallway I asked, "How old are you?"
"23."
I had to pause while I did the math in my head. Once I got it I spoke with a little bit of shock in my voice, "So you went to prison when you were 18?"
"Mhm."
"And what did you do?"
We stopped in front of the door, and he just stared at me while opening the door. He didn't answer the question and shrugged, "Don't want to be late on your first day, Mia."
