Unmade {postponed}

Chapter 5:

Cassandra

After The Unraveling

Today i felt was worthy of a nice good punch, right in the face. And I still haven't gotten out of bed. I looked around my room, noticing the vivid black, brown, and green painted walls. They reflected the light from my giant window in the ceiling, but most of the wall fell in shadows. Perfect for a day like today. If you had found out your crush's dad was going to possibly marry your mom, you would want to punch the air too.
I remember when my mother had the stars in my ceiling installed. It was after my father left her, and lost his faith. She was 8 months pregnant at the time and she needed something to do. So she used a map of the stars and installed hundreds of tiny glittering lights in the ceiling. When I was little I remember staring up at those tiny glittering lights and praying that someday I would have a dad. It was all I ever thought about when I was little. As I grew older I studied the stars as they illuminated my room at night and marveled at what God could do. How could my dad ever forsaken that? His mother died yes, but my mom told me that his mother was one of those people who almost definitely went to heaven. I'm pretty sure thats why she installed the lights in my room...to make sure I was reminded everyday that everything had a purpose, even me.
I then eyed my closet. It wasn't really a closet at all, it was a giant room that mom and I made when I was eight. It had tents set up, with different types of clothes in each one. There was a small tattered tent held up by sticks and stones and that held my best clothes. When we made the room, my mom smiled saying that it was to remind me that everything had a price. If I lived in that tent I would learn a lesson about self value and worth. I would learn that clothes and money don't define us, our nature, effort and souls do.
My mom was richer than most people yes, but she works hard to earn the money, and any extra money she has is given to charities. We only spend it on necessary things.
My whole life has revolved around my mom, she was there when I fell off my bike for the first time, when I broke my leg at a kid's summer boot camp, she was there for me when my first and only friend abandoned me to become popular, she was there for me even when I couldn't have been farther away from her. But never was there the word "dad" in any of my childhood memories. I had always wondered what it would be like to have a dad. My mom never forgot him, she always spoke kindly of him too. She almost always sounded sad for him though. Which made me happy for her because she could move on. But she still remembered him kindly for what he had been and even what he became. I always looked to her for answers and questions.
But now, I might have a dad soon. I always imagined how I would meet "the one". Mom and I would go to the mall, pulling into to a parallel parking position perfectly. As he saw her he would completely fall head over heels and ask her out, or I imagined he would invite me to one of their dates so I would have the chance to afterward play wrestle with him like dads do with their kids. It sounds sort of silly I know. But never in my lifetime could I have imagined that the guy I have a crush on might be my step-brother, or that I would even have a brother at all for that matter. I mean since when did humans date their siblings... NEVER!
I was suddenly interrupted from my thoughts as I heard a noise downstairs. It sounded like someone had broken into the house. Where the heck was mom?!?! Man, I was starting to panic. I grabbed my lucky machete and made sure my glock was in its holster. I gradually eased my weight from my bed, while pressing my hand down on it to ensure that it wouldn't creak. I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding in a slow stuttering way. If there was a robber brave enough to break into this house, he has to be either a total idiot or a mass murdering serial killer with tons of experience behind his back. But it's best not to think about this right now when I'm about to open up the door to my room and expose my compromising position. I reach for the door handle and ever so gently push down. Then, following the steps drilled into my memory from hours of practice, I grip my gun and swing the door wide open. Nothing. I peer down the hallway looking from side to side. Still clear. I then search each of the rooms on the floor, making sure that no one decided to take up residency here. The next two rooms I search are empty but when I go to inspect the third I hear another loud crash and a string of curses following soon after. Mom! She was here! Everything was alright.
I race down the stairs, all the while being careful my gun didn't misfire at a random picture hanging on the walls. Third floor.....second floor....first. Finally! I descend off of the last step and race into the kitchen where the loud clashing took place. Suddenly I see five things at once happening at the same time.
One: I look over and see the sliding glass door has been broken into.
Two: Mom is standing in the middle of the kitchen looking like she has just had a heart attack.
Three: Holy shoot! She looks like she's in her twenties again!
Four: She is armed with her favorite M16
Five: She's pointing it straight at my head.

---•---
Alexander

We flew Home late last night. How do I know? The last thing I remember is falling asleep on the plane and now I'm in my bed. I yawn and stretch and suddenly I'm falling off my bed and hitting the hard floor. Ugh.