Both women sat at the table, looking at their feet, too tired and nervous to speak.
Samantha opened her mouth. "What happened? You look like went to hell and back."
"I did." Vanessa's hair was messy, sticking out in all directions. Good thing she had very short hair. If not, it would be a much bigger mess. Her aviator sunglasses were dangling from the front pocket on her dress shirt, which was crinkled and covered in blood. Only a few splatters here and there.
A waiter came over and asked them what they would like to eat. Doing the poor woman a favor, she ordered chocolate chip pancakes for herself and blueberry ones for Vanessa, both amazing flavors and not too complicated.
Vanessa groaned and laid her head on the table.
"You didn't answer my question."
She looked up slightly, just enough to eye Samantha with a very heavy amount of distaste. She sighed. "My friend's house got attacked last night. One of her kids got injured. It was right next door, so I helped." Her eyes twinkled like the topic was a sensitive subject. She took a shaky breath before continuing. "It was bad, Samantha. Her arm was just covered in blood. The scar was so deep I could see her bone... I-I won't know how she even managed to survive."
Samantha blinked. What was she supposed to say in this situation? She thought the blood was from a paper cut or something, not a bone deep scar from a child being attacked in the middle of the night. On the list of really wacky and horrifying things she'd experienced, being attacked in the middle of the night did appear, but not in the way her friend described it.
The waiter came over with their pancakes, smiling cheerfully as she did. "Enjoy!" She yelled in a heavy cockney accent.
As they both poked and prodded their breakfast, Samantha stared out the window right next to them. Children walked past, goofing around and yelling, having a good time in general. She felt a strange sensation of jealousy wash over her. Why was she the one ostracized by everyone, isolated and neglected in the crowd of selfish and greedy pricks that cared about nothing but themselves? Why, why was she the one beat up every night by the person she called 'father' because she looked like someone he'd lost? Why was she blamed for every misfortune put on those who she called 'family'? It wasn't fair, it wasn't just, it wasn't honest. But that didn't stop people from doing horrible things, did it? She didn't realize it, but she was clenching her fist; her nails dug into her skin, blood seeping out of the severed crevices.
Vanessa had finished her meal, still looking miserable as ever. Samantha pried her eyes away from the window, the throbbing of hate still beating in her mind and heart. Her friend cleared her throat before speaking.
"Hey, can you do me a favor?"
"Yeah, sure, I'm free."
"If it's not too much of a hassle, can you babysit my kids for me? I have some business to attend to. My husband left earlier for work, and I have no one to ask."
- - - - - -
In front of her loomed a huge house, large windows plastered all over the outside. It was a beautiful mahogany with highlights of beige. The whole thing looked like it was pulled from the late 1800s and early 1900s. A large oak door was embedded into the front, vines and leaves growing from plants on a shelf situated above it. It created a wonderful floral archway, clashing wonderfully with the brown of the door. She knocked three times for good measure.
A young boy opened the door; he had inky black hair and jade eyes. His face floated in the doorway as he looked at her suspiciously.
"Who are you?" he asked, staring at her.
YOU ARE READING
The Bringers of Chaos
AcţiuneAfter one fateful dream, Amelia Summers is plagued with voices screaming in her head, telling her to do things she wouldn't dare to do. She soon finds out that this conundrum of thoughts was a part of something much bigger than her. After a daring e...
