Adalynn & Parker || Marcella Rose

Chapter Three

Midget Warrior

The weekend slipped through my fingers like sand, leaving me unprepared for the relentless grip of Monday. I spent it drowning my sorrows in strawberry ice cream-my favorite since childhood-barely able to tear myself away from the comforting chill of the tub. Piper and Miles stayed with me during the day but left at night, leaving me with my thoughts circling my head as soon as they were gone. Dad, always understanding, gave me the entire weekend off from the diner, a small mercy amidst the chaos of my emotions. Living above the diner, I was used to the symphony of clanging dishes and lively chatter filtering through the floorboards, but today, the noise felt more like a storm raging outside my window than the usual hum of life below.

As I woke up, a familiar heaviness settled in my chest, an unwelcome reminder that I was likely to break down in tears at some point today. The thought of facing the world filled me with dread, and I buried my face in my pillow, reluctant to rise. The morning light filtered through the curtains, revealing the cold, harsh reality outside-a stark contrast to the warmth I craved.

In a bid to avoid the inevitable embarrassment of mascara streaks and smeared eyeliner, I opted for comfort over appearance. I slipped into my favorite jogging pants, soft and worn, and a loose-fitting t-shirt that felt like a hug against my skin. In the mirror, I stared at a distant stranger who didn't look like me. Her eyes were a dead pale green, with redness rimming the under-eyes. Her hair frizzed out, refusing to be tamed. Her pear-shaped body seemed almost nonexistent in this outfit, resembling more of a blob. Her porcelain skin looked pale and ghostly. I quickly brushed the untamable beast—my hair—into a half-up, half-down style since it was short. I pushed my circle glasses up my nose before throwing on my jacket. With a deep breath, I steeled myself for the day ahead, hoping to navigate the challenges waiting for me with a semblance of strength.

I grabbed my backpack and descended the spiral stairs that led into the diner, each step a reminder of the day ahead. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon wafted through the air, instantly stirring my senses. Dad stood at the counter, immersed in the morning routine, his hands deftly flipping pancakes and pouring orange juice. The moment he spotted me, his smile broke through the early morning haze, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

"Rise and shine, pumpkin! Want some eggs, bacon-anything?" he asked, his voice bright and cheerful, like the sun breaking through a cloudy sky.

I managed a faint smile, though it felt heavy on my lips. "Just coffee," I murmured, my voice hoarse from too many tears.

"Hun, you haven't eaten since Friday morning..." He grimaced, concern etching lines across his forehead. "You need something."

I shook my head, a wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm me. "I think I might throw up."

Dad pursed his lips into a small, understanding smile, his worry mingling with affection. He reached for a to-go coffee cup, expertly pouring the rich brew as the comforting aroma of espresso filled my nostrils, momentarily jolting me from my drowsiness. He swiftly added the exact amount of creamer and sugar before handing me the cup. The warmth of the cup in my hands was a small consolation, a fleeting reminder that I was still tethered to the world despite everything.

I hadn't slept much over the past few nights, the weight of my thoughts keeping me restless, and as I took a long sip of the hot coffee, I hoped it would provide just enough energy to face the day ahead. The warmth coursed through me, a brief comfort against the chill of my lingering worries.

"Have a nice day, kiddo." My dad's voice broke through my thoughts as he wandered over, patting my head affectionately. His smile was genuine, a reassuring beacon during my turmoil.