The Parents

Breakfast

The familiar blaring that came from my bedside table never failed to remind me that my dreams were just a fantasy that I had created, and that reality continued to move on. Gripping onto whatever energy I had, I sat up in bed and ended the horrendous noise before grabbing my glasses from the bedside table. The chaotic mess I had created in front of me caused me to wince. I was so getting an earful from Mum later; my room was an absolute pigsty.

An icy cold breeze washed over me, pulling me away from my thoughts as goosebumps covered my arms. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to keep warm, before noticing that the window above my desk was wide open. I chose to ignore it before quickly jumping out of bed, slipping on my fluffy slippers, and darting out of the room.

I made sure I followed the house rules and shut the door behind me before moving towards the stairs. I noticed that there was sunlight blaring into the hallway. Huh, that's odd. I looked to my right to find the big, double doors that led to Mum and Dad's room wide open. Mhm, that's strange. Mum's pretty nuts about keeping the doors shut in the house, especially since we got Oscar. I knew I shouldn't be a snoop, but curiosity got the better of me.

Getting a good look at the room I gasped at what I saw, everything was so clean. This is very unlike Mum and Dad, they're always busy and as much as they get on my case about having a clean room, their room was never clean. At least not like this. Everything was perfect; the bed was made; the windows were all shut: the curtains tied neatly away from the glass; even the bedside tables were clear. I was shocked at the sudden change in character, but maybe Mum just had some extra time on her hands this morning.

It made sense, so I chose to accept it. Moving away from their bedroom I continued my journey to the kitchen. But instead of the usual calmness washing over me, I was left in confusion. The normally silent house, was now filled with the sound of a sizzling fry pan, a radio broadcast and, was that humming?

Freezing in the kitchen doorway, I watched Mum hum and dance as she prepared breakfast. Okay something weird is going on. Did I get a perfect a report card again? No, it's the middle of semester. Did they lose Oscar? They better not have. No, Dad wouldn't be this calm if they lost Oscar. Is he, reading a newspaper? I watched confused as Dad's eyes skimmed back and forth over the black and white paper quickly.

"Uh, good morning, Mum."

"Oh, morning sleepy head, did you sleep well?" Mum continued to dance around the kitchen whilst preparing a plate for me. "Yeah alright, I guess. Why isn't Dad cooking like usual?" Grabbing the bacon and eggs from Mum, I made my way over towards Dad who was sitting at the dining table. "And why aren't you at work Mum? You're usually never home for breakfast."

"Well Betty, I had something to do this morning, so your mother agreed to make breakfast."

"And I don't have work today honey, I took today off." My eyes darted between the two of them as I contemplated their responses. Seems legit. "Fair enough, I guess."

Sitting down, I noticed that the room had gotten eerily quiet. The humming had stopped, and any movement had ceased entirely. Suddenly, the radio seemed to jump in volume, scaring me as the once silent room was filled with a reporter going on about some police investigation. Probably just a load of bullshit if you ask me.

"Detectives have deducted that mass murderers, 'The Perfectionists', are moving towards more suburban areas. Please take care and report anything suspicious if you live in the areas of–"

The sudden cut in the report startled me, making me drop my fork, as I looked towards Mum who stood in the kitchen with a strained smile on her lips and the power plug in her hand. "Mum was that necessary? You know I don't really believe that stuff, right?"

"Of course, sweetie. I just wanted to make sure you won't get any nightmares or anything."

"Oh... uh, okay."

What? Nightmares? I'm a 17-year-old honour roll student, who loves horror movies. Fictional stories about murderers don't scare me. Shaking off my confusion, I quickly darted my eyes up to the clock. "Oh shit!" Ignoring the disciplinary yells coming from my father, I quickly darted out of my chair and made my way upstairs.

"What on earth are you doing Betty Mason?!" Spinning around, I came face to face with the stone-cold expressions of my distraught mother. "I'm getting ready. School starts in less than an hour and I still have so much to do –"

"Calm down Betty–"

"I still need to have a shower and get dressed–"

"Betty–"

"And clean my room and feed–"

"Betty Mason! Stop right now!"