RAINED DOWN.(SUPER SLOW UPDATES)

A BIT TOO BRIGHT

I would like to stay and make it all okay
But it's just too soon and it's not me or you
Tell me if it's strange, and I'm maybe deranged
                  -Matilda Mann

                                     ♡

Zeya's pov

The sizzling oil in the pan heats up, waiting for me to put the egg on it. I crack the egg, but the shell shatters in pieces on the yolk.

A mess.

I use the spoon kept beside to pick out the pieces of the shell. Frustration right in the morning isn't a good emotion to be felt.

I fry it till it's tough, I wouldn't say I like a runny yolk. Then pour my coffee in my cup. Balancing both I get to the table.

My tortilla wrap sits on the plate, a mediocre breakfast that might look unappetising to some.

Mum shuffles in the dining, shock on her face to see me so early with food right infront of me.

"It's a surprise to see you having a proper breakfast for once. The tortilla looks okay enough. Give me a bite."

So I give her a taste of it, she chews for some time then swallows it. Her face an unreadable portrait, eyes half closed, analysing each granule of the tortilla.

"Its quite good, make one for me when you get the time. I would love to have something made by my daughter."

Mum cracks a smile at me, the wrinkles around her eyes reminding me of her aging. Her warm brown ones mirroring mine, same as hers.

She moves onto the fridge pulling out a box of something and moving from here to there, getting ready for her daily chores.

I've never been good at cooking, or any kind of household chores. Another minus point of mine. I turn my head towards the staircase leading upstairs.

There is my room, a safe den for hiding away from the world. When the reality wants to chew me out, I run and hide there. A shielded comfort zone.

But I can't do that, especially today.

Today is the dreadful Wednesday, for which I had bled for over over a week. Ran for hours to only feel insufficient. But I'm no trackstar, I've to remind myself constantly.

The realisation is the spark that makes the nerves in me fill with nausea. The tortilla that I have on my plate, remains half eaten. The sight of it now makes my stomach churn.

Still I force myself. I have a long day ahead. Pushing the food in my mouth, I gulp the coffee to wash it down in a force.

The events don't start till nine, but our arrival is at half past seven. As another school will also be participating today, we have to be on our best behaviour.

I am starting to sweat from now just by thinking about people seeing me run and make a dumb out of myself.

I take my bike out, sailing through the rustling trees on the pavements, the sky above me, a crystal clear blue. The weather is in favour of today's occasion.

But my mood is that of a sour rotten lemon.

Mum will visit the school along with Aunt Eleanor. Evara and her team-mates have a different timing for arrival.

I get to the huge iron gates of my school. The board above the arching gate revealing the name, Brighton Medley Highschool in black, bold letters.

My thoughts are brought to a halt. I get off the bike after I park it.