Daylight

05 | Lessons

It was like any morning ever since they arrived in their new home, Madonna standing in the kitchen with no idea of what to do. The red-haired woman stared at the opened cupboards with arms crossed against her chest, her lips thin as she scowled.

She had no idea what to cook. Or even how to.

Ever since they arrived, it has always been Caroline providing them their meals. As much as she liked Caroline's cooking, this couldn't possibly go on forever. As much as she hated it, she needed to learn how to cook in order to live or else she and her daughters would probably starve to death.

A sigh escaped her lips, she screwed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose "Karma is really a bitch." she thought before she started grabbing every ingredient she could use for her disaster.

The fiery woman moved through the kitchen in complete confusion, she found the pan from the cabinet under the sink and now that it was on top of the stove, she had no idea what to do next. Surely, the eggs will not cook themselves if she cracks them open over this cold pan.

She needed fire, yes that was it. Madonna looked around for a possible source of fire in order to open the stove, she looked through the drawers and found a box of old matches. She walked back towards the stove while opening the box, sliding out the matches and taking a single one. After a poor amount of time and a lot of used matches, a spark had successfully ignited, turning into a fire. When she successfully lit the match, she quickly placed it near the stove, the small fire roaring into a bigger one.

At her success, before she could put out the small fire, it touched the tip of her finger. She yelped, hissing through gritted teeth as she quickly threw the used match towards the sink, pouring cold water over it and her burnt fingertip.

"Oh, bloody hell." she muttered under her breath, returning her attention to the heating pan. She grabbed the eggs from the tray then stared, pursing her lips, did she need cooking oil?

She was sure she does. She carefully placed the fragile eggs on the counter then looked through the cupboards for cooking oil. When she failed to find one or simply because she didn't know what it looked like, she started cracking eggs over the hot pan. Possibly a little too hot. When the first egg fell onto the hot surface, she watched it sizzle.

After a few minutes of allowing it to cook, she grabbed a flat wooden spoon from one of the drawers and started poking the egg. She tried to slide the spoon under the egg to move it onto a plate but it wouldn't budge. The sides were now brown and god knows how that egg looks like underneath. She tried to move the egg again and this time, she touched the handle of the pan.

The hot metal immediately burned her skin, she yelped in pain, releasing the pan immediately, dropping it back on the stove, leaving the wooden spoon and the egg inside to run towards the sink.

She hissed, feeling her palm burn under the running cold water. As she tried to cool her palm down, unsure what to do next, her eyes darted back on the stove, mainly on the pan that was now on fire. As panic began to settle onto the depth of her stomach, she moved without thinking, grabbing the pan with her bare hand and threw it towards the sink, drowning out the fire with water.

She stared at the mess in front of her, feeling the ache in her palm. A sigh escaped her lips, her red waves loose from her hair clips, falling onto her face. This was stupid. This was utterly stupid.

Their life –her life wasn't supposed to turn out this way. One of her beautiful and stupid daughters was supposed to marry a rich man, they were supposed to drown in riches and wealth.

She stood in the silent kitchen with the water still running, the cloud of smoke was still visible and the burning stench was still there. She didn't know how long she stood there, feeling the ache in her hand, letting her know she was still alive.