The World Without Sun

Chapter Two: Afraid

Mother stared at me coolly from the table. Her face was expressionless. She had her hands folded neatly on the table and her legs crossed. I gulped nervously and entered fully, shutting the door behind me. I walked past Mother to set my pack in my room before going back to stand in front of her. Luckily because of the table Mother couldn't see the bandage on my leg, or the blood stain on my skin and socks.

I think for some reason seeing her so calm made everything so much worse, at least if she was scowling I'd have some sort of idea what she was thinking.

We stayed like for an eternity or two, hiding our emotions and assessing the best course of action. Our staring contest was broken by the ringing of a small alarm. Mother looked towards the kitchen then back at me, narrowing her eyes almost imperceptibly before following the noise into the kitchen.

I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding and left to go do my homework in the peace of my room. I finished as fast as I could and then went into the bathroom.

First order of business, get this tuft off of me and clean off the blood. I found myself regretting not bringing an extra pair of socks in with me as I peeled the string from the gash, the blood was dry and crusty at this point and it stuck to my skin more than I'd have liked. It certainly wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world getting it off.

Getting the bloodied sock off was worse though, seeing as it had been pressed firmly against my ankle by my shoe—which by regulation had to be ridiculously tight—but I eventually managed to do it. Not without getting bits of dried blood on the floor.

I'll have to clean that up.

I swiftly cleaned the dark blood off my leg with a damp towel, then I wiped up the crusty bits on the floor and wrapped the dirty socks in the rag before opening the bathroom door and sticking my head out to make sure no one was coming. Once I was sure no one was, I darted across the hall and into my bedroom.

I put the dirty laundry into the hamper and cleaned before going back into the bathroom. I tried to find something that would cover the gash, which was just starting to scab. But I couldn't find anything so I resolved to just be extremely careful so I didn't open the wound again. Luckily the cut was in an area that would be fairly easy to hide given proper positioning.

Once I was sure I was presentable I exited my room and walked down the hallway and into the dining room where I pulled the necessary items from the cabinet in the corner and set the table. Mother came out of the kitchen carrying a steaming pot filled by a white liquid with murky grey chunks floating in it. She set it in the center of the table and smoothed out invisible wrinkles in her dress before turning to me and crossing her arms.

"We will be talking about your delay in getting here after dinner." She promptly walked towards the front door and opened it.

Father marched in and hung his heavy grey coat on the hanger and set his hat on top. He walked past Mother without acknowledging her and sat down at the head of the table, Oscar appeared shortly after and sat down to his left. Mother sat down at his right and I shuffled towards the open seat facing Father.

Mother served the food and everyone ate in silence. I ate slightly slower than they did, the soup just didn't look as appetizing as it used to. But I knew that if I complained I would get in massive trouble so I just put spoonful after spoonful into my mouth.

After a while Father cleared his throat and thanked Mother for making such a delicious supper. Oscar did the same and they both left the table and went into their respective rooms. That left Mother and I to pick up.

She placed the dishes into the empty pot and took it into the kitchen to wash it. I trailed after her and grabbed a dish rag to wipe off the table. It didn't take long seeing as no one ever got any food on the table, but it was something that I was told to do since the beginning so I did it without complaint.

Minutes passed with Mother washing dishes and me scrubbing the same spot, over and over again. 'Everything is fine, just breathe.' I told myself over and over, it didn't seem to be able to quell the fear and anxiety roaring inside me.

I heard the sink faucet squeak shut behind me, 'I'll have to fix that.' Mother cleared her throat, I stopped scrubbing. With shaky hands I picked the rag up and put it in the basket under the sink with the other dirty rags, I didn't look at mother once.

"Sit." She ordered me once I had put the basket back under the sink. I sat. I thought she would go get Father, but she surprised me when she sat across from me. "You can't do this."

"Do what?" I was puzzled, what did she mean?

"You can't act like this, I know how it starts, I did the same thing at your age, but it doesn't end well." She looked sad, I didn't like it. I waited for her to explain more. She just sat there, a faraway look in her eyes. I waited a few minutes, then I cleared my throat. She came to.

"Well this was a great conversation, now if you will please excuse me I'm going to go to my room and do my homework. Have a nice night Mother." I tried to walk past her but she grabbed my arm. I gave a half-hearted tug, she let it go. As I walked away I heard her whisper, "Not again." I didn't dwell on it.

⥢⥫⥭⥤

The last three days of the week passed slowly, I wasn't nearly as distracted as I was the first day, the cut scabbed over and I got into the habit of keeping it as out of sight as possible. Father hardly talked to me, not that he did a whole lot before, Oscar was as pretentious as ever, flaunting his perfect grades every chance he got. I tried to ignore him. Mother was oddly distant, she randomly got that same look in her eyes as she did when she talked to me.

I went to bed after that, but I was unable to fall asleep, instead I stared at the ceiling until I heard the bell ring.