Swayed (A Before You Exit Fanfiction)

Chapter Three - Cold Feet

Copyright © 2013 BYEconnort  - All Rights Reserved

It has been exactly five days since we’ve gone back to Orlando and I was starting to feel at home again, like everything was back to normal, like I never spent years apart from this place. It was a blissful feeling, all in all.

But like I have learnt over the past few years, happiness often came with a price. And in my opinion, a rather expensive one at that.

The more I began to settle back in our home, the more anxious I also felt. The McDonough brothers have been home for at least two days now, and I was basically chickened out of my wits. A multitude of situations made it to my brain at random times and I grew more fretful of the possibilities as my day proceeded.  What if I run into them? What if they’ve noticed the presence of living people in the house next door? What if Joan already told them their old neighbors have moved back in? What if they decided to pay a little visit?

“Audrey!” my mother called for me from the bottom of the stairs as I predicted, based on the sound of her voice easily making its way past my closed door.

“What!” I yelled back over the music I was playing. I knew she never liked the post-hardcore music I listened to. That’s why she never comes into my room when I play them over my speakers. I got into these types of music even before we came to Maryland; even before, when I was still her obedient little daughter who never complained about anything; before, when I was still scared of being myself around people.

I used to keep a lot of personal things from my mother, just like the music I listened to, but now I put everything out in the open. It was up to them to have their own opinion about who I really I was. I was so sick of hiding.

My mom didn’t take it well, to say the least. But although she never approved of the things I did and the things I changed, she knew she still had to put up with me.

She didn’t respond after that, so I peaked outside my door, and like I thought, she was at the bottom of the staircase, with her arms crossed over her chest, obviously waiting for me.

“There you are,” she mutters when she finally sees my head poking out of the door. “And please, turn the radio off,” she adds.

It’s called an iPod, mother. I rolled my eyes but proceeded to unplug my gadget from its dock. The immediate silence left a ringing to my ears. I hate it when that happens. I shook my head a couple of times to make it go away.

When I got out of my room though, my mother had already left her position from downstairs. I looked for her in the study first, before proceeding to the dining area, where I didn’t see her either.  You can usually find her in those two rooms, but not today.

“Mom, where are you?” I called out, sighing in defeat.

“In here,” she responded and I realized it was coming from the kitchen.

That was weird. I fully took over the cooking duties when we got back. What was she doing in there? I knew for a fact that it was one of her least favorite places in the house.

“What are you...” I trailed off as I caught sight of our kitchen. To say it was a disaster was so trivialize the whole ordeal. Pans and pots were strewn everywhere, as if she wasn’t sure what to use, and I was betting she didn’t. The counter tops were full of spilled condiments and concoctions and whatnots, parts of the floor looked muddy and I can’t even conjure a reason as to why it would be that way, random cabinets were wide open, only a few were left closed, a lot of the food we shopped for just yesterday were all over the place, and the dirty dishes in need of washing were towering over the sink.