Tiger Lily Flames

Chapter 2: The Hell Begins

As the week passes, the Raines' is finally settling into the new house, furniture filling the once-empty rooms. Walls open, waiting to be decorated with paint, Myra walks around her room unenthusiastically early, that brisk Monday morning looming for her first day of school. Waiting for Rowan to wake up, Myra sits back on her bed, scrolling through Instagram and looking at what her old cheer mates were up to. Even though she doesn't like them, seeing what is happening in people's lives is fascinating. Myra sees Gwen's story and its multiple pictures of the three of them, and the song covering the whole story is Phantasm by Jack The Stripper. It had pictures of them at the town fair, at the mall, swimming together, partying hard, singing, doing skincare, etc. Myra smiled down at the device in front of her. Finally, Myra shuts off her phone and stands up, stretching her back out, feeling different pops and cracks up her spine like popcorn in a microwave.

Myra's eyes flick to the scuttle and the sudden light that shoots into the dark room. Myra shuts her eyes abruptly, not in the mood to be blinded. Kris looks up to see where her daughter is, "Hey, Hey, Hey, Myra, Nice to see you're awake. Could you please ensure Rowan gets up for school? I have to leave early for work today, and they want me in early to show me around. Is that okay?" Myra looks at her mom with a light smile.

"Yeah, I can do that for you, Mom. I will wake him up in a minute or so," Myra walks over to her mom, who is halfway into her room. Myra leans down and plants a light kiss on her mother's head.

Kris climbs down, Myra following behind her phone in her jogger pocket earbuds opposite her. Myra waves her mom off as Kris exits the house and gets in her car. Thanks to their aunt Taylor who was driving the moving van and luckily had Myra's car attached, they aren't sharing cars once more. Myra bangs her right hand against the younger boy's door to ensure he is awake. Once Myra heard' a grumble from the other side of the door, she immediately knew he was awake. She takes a step back as the door opens to reveal Rowan, his deep chestnut curls a mess, his bright yet dark grey eyes staring deep into Myra's soul. The younger boy is wearing a pair of blue joggers, an Adidas hoodie, and mismatched socks.

"Well, good morning to you too, little bro' how'd you sleep?" Myra asks, patting her brother on the chest as she shoves past him and plops hard onto his bed.

"Can you get out, Myra? I need to get dressed," Rowan walked over to the shorter girl with a stern look.

"And wear what? All your Nike and Adidas shirts, with the various amounts of blue jeans you own. Let's face the fact you dress like every other guy ever," Myra looks at Rowan with a smug look plastered all over her face.

"Can you just get out? You're so annoying," Rowan tugs on Myra's arm, pulling her up off his bed and dragging her out of his room.

Myra chuckles, "Whatever you say, dork, I'm going to go get ready, so eat, get dressed, and do whatever you have to. Because we leave in 30 minutes, got it," Myra climbs the step ladder and goes back into her little hidey hole, hearing Rowan's door shut behind her.

Myra treks toward her closet and walks in a bit to see a variety of clothes. She flips through each article of clothing, trying to figure out what to wear. Her eyes land on her black and white flannel. She reaches out for it. Once in her grasp, she takes it off the hanger and then puts said hanger back into the closet. She throws on ripped black jeans with multiple patches over her legs. Myra walks over to her dresser, only wearing her jeans, pajama shirt, and flannel in hand. Myra pulls open the first drawer, and her eyes immediately land on a Nirvana shirt; the print on the sweater is for her favorite song, Heart Shaped Box. Myra puts the shirt on and then the flannel; she grabs her wine-red Converse and throws them on her feet.

Myra laces her shoes real quick then makes her way to her desk. Myra sits down in front of her little desk mirror that is littered with stickers from previous years. She grabs some mascara brushes it against her eyelashes, then rubs her eyes aggressively to smudge them to give her an 80s rocker look. Myra shakes her head like a wet dog. As if she just got out of the rain. Then, looking back into the mirror, she sees herself and her ravenous hair, the piercing gray eyes that stare right back at her, and her tan-ish skin. Myra stands up abruptly and makes her way to her backpack that sits next to her bedside table. Myra picks up the bag and slings it over her shoulder, immediately making Myra huff.