Seven

Chapter 63

LILIANNA'S POV

I'm awoken by the shrill beeping from my alarm. The jingle that rings from my phone signalling my desired wake up plays from across my bedroom. The familiar tune has me upright in bed within seconds of it starting, I swear the sound of my alarm has given me ptsd or something by the way it sends an awful feeling flooding my body just from the noise.

I flick the thick covers off of my body and jump out of bed, scurrying over the dirty laundry that litters the hardwood floor. With a satisfied desperation I end the obnoxious alarm and disarm it from doing the five minute intervals that seem to sound off when I hit snooze.

My eyes feel tight and swollen and I regret deciding to fall asleep to A Star Is Born. It's not like I didn't see it coming, I've watched the film before but it still sends me into an emotional blubbering mess. I wipe at my eyes and look around at the state of my bedroom. It's filthy and in need of a clean. It's not the way I had planned to spend my Saturday morning but I also hadn't actually planned anything so I may as well tidy up. But first, I need coffee.

Shoving my feet into the fluffy set of slippers I brought myself last week as apart of my weekly retail therapy splurge, I gather my messy hair into a ball on the top of my head and secure it with the scrunchy from around my wrist. I pad tiredly through my apartment to the kitchen sink, flicking the switch of my coffee maker and wait for it to heat up. While I wait I gather the bundle of mail that's been shoved through the mail slot on my door. It's mostly junk mail but I quite like going through the brochures of appliances and home ware - imagining the things I'd buy when I owned my own house. I even look over the kids clothes section, deciding the types of outfits I'll dress my future kids in.

It actually reminds me that I need to eventually talk to my doctor about going back on my birth control. I won't lie, it's actually been so nice not being on it these last months. I don't feel as bloated, my periods don't hurt when I have them and I'm not as emotional unless I'm coming up to a period. I'm conflicted about going back on them, I mean it's not like I've been sleeping with anyone so that hasn't been a problem. But I know eventually I need to be prepared. Ugh. I just wish there was something that guys could take instead. It doesn't seem fair that there are so many different contraceptive choices for women when they could be looking into ones for men instead, Yknow other than just condoms or vasectomies.

My coffee machine beeps quietly as I flick through the junk mail admiring things I won't and probably never will actually buy. I pour myself a black coffee, chuck two ice cubes into it to cool it down to a reasonable drinking temperature and walk back to tackle the mess in my room.

When my floors are removed of my dirty clothes and the second load of washing is tumbling in the machine, I take a break from my room and start on squaring up my living room. My school books are slightly scattered and my papers I've been working on late every night this week are a mess over my small dining table. I roughly collect up my assignments and tuck them into my binder, stack up my work books in class order and turn my attention to the last three boxes of my grandmothers belongings stacked under my table.

I already have the clothes I first unpacked of hers hung up in my new closet. Her nicknacks adorn my shelves and my mother's jewellery box has a special place on top of my chest of draws. I wear her jewellery as often as I can, well only really during outings with friends but her gold earrings have become my regular choice.

With a trepidatious sigh I bend down and drag one of the bigger boxes out from under the table. It's brown tape that seals it closed is much older than the clear gaffer tape securing the other boxes. I get the feeling this box was in storage long before my grandmother passed away.