Storm Clouds

Chapter Five

The house was eerily quiet when I unlocked the door at 3:45 pm that afternoon. The only sound the house emitted was the lull sound of the television in the living room, and the stench of alcohol floating around the house was unbearable; I, on the other hand, was used to the smell. I pulled my keys from the door and closed it gently.

Who's there?" I stopped in my tracks at the sound of my father's voice; he wasn't supposed to be at home, but at the bar. Although it was fairly early, my parents were almost always at the bar.

"It's m-me, dad," I said. I could hear him coming closer, and with each step he took, the old house emitted a creak, adding onto my fear. The sound grew louder and louder as he approached, until he towered over me. His face was littered with liver spots due to an upcoming liver failure. He had wrinkles and bags beneath his dark brown eyes. He had male pattern baldness, which left the top of his head bald, and the roots of his remaining brown hair had begun to turn grey. He was, in a sense, an ugly man; both inside and out. I could remember a time where I thought my dad was beautiful. He used to take care of us; but the man in front of me was no longer my father.

"Good evening, sir," I said, attempting to keep the peace. He glowered at me.

"Why are you home so late?" The question came out as more of a command, and the alcohol on his breath made itself known. He'd been drinking straight whiskey today. I kept my eyes trained on my shoes.

"I-I'm always h-home at this hour, s-sir." This was no home, I thought bitterly. He glared at me with his eyes squinted once more before returning back to the living room. As he left, the smell of alcohol hit me once more. I turned and walked towards the back of the house. Once I got to Connie and I's shared room, I opened the door immediately, and shut it quickly behind me just as the smell of weed floated in. The smell of my dad's new drug habit creeping in from underneath the door forced me to open the tiny window in the corner of the room.

The room was like a jail cell; it had plain white walls with an eggshell finish, and a single small window. I sat down in my bed and attempted to bring my knees to my chest, but failed due to my four-month bump. I let out a sigh and opted to stretch out my legs instead. I stared at Connie's bed as my thoughts as my thoughts took over. Connie's bed was opposite to mine - a simple twin bed with teal comforters and a matching pillow case set. I tried to spoil Connie as much as I could with my minimum wage income. It was a wonder we still lived here, in the house with how little I made. I wouldn't be surprised if foreclosure was in the near future. I took out my phone and checked for any messages, before I eventually drifted off to sleep before the night shift.

* * *

"Mallory, my sweetness," my mother said as she patted me on the head lightly, letting me know that the time had come for me to wake up. I opened my eyes to see her warm smile - a smile warmer than the sun itself - as I did each day.

As I sat up in bed, she held me in her arms, stroking my head. This is nice, I thought as I watched a small, 18 month old Connie approached us with open arms, doing her best to request a hug for herself. We were in my old room. The walls were blue and the furniture was black. We were sat on my bed which was placed by the wall closest to the door. I watched as my mother picked Connie up and held her in her arms as well, and stroked our heads lightly. I then pulled Connie in my arms after gaining my mom's approval. My mom was a very beautiful woman. There was beauty within every fibre of her being. From her wavy brown hair to her hazel eyes, down to her thin frame and down to the very soles of her feet. I had always expected that Connie would grow up to be just as pretty as her, and seeing as how she'd already gotten a good start on cuteness, she probably would. They both had hazel eyes and fair skin, and it seemed as though Connie had my mother's hair. As I held Connie in my arms, she poked her head out and pouted out her lips, attempting to kiss my cheek. I allow her too as her baby saliva catches my face as a result of her little peck. I kiss her forehead before Mom motions for me to give up Connie.

"Alright now," she said picking up Connie and standing up. "You'd better start getting ready for school, Mal." I smiled softly at the endearing nickname. She walked towards the door of my room with Connie on her hip. "The School's not gonna teach itself." My mother leaves the room, and leaves the door open. She then walks with Connie to the kitchen to feed her breakfast.

I grabbed the clothes I planned the previous night and -
* * *

I woke up in a cold sweat. What was that? I thought as I wiped the sweat off of my forehead with the collar of my tee shirt. It seemed too good to be true. I checked the time. 5:30 pm. Shaking off the dream, I sighed and tossed back the blanket, which I don't remember even putting on. Time to get ready for work, I thought with a sigh. I got up and took a quick shower, and then got dressed. As I emerged from the back of the house, Connie held out a small brown baggie for me.

"Snacks," she said simply, and turned away to the back of the house. I mumbled a meek thanks and quietly moved to put on my shoes. I ran to our room.

"I'm leaving," I said quietly to avoid any attention from my parents. She nodded and waved. I smiled a small smile in return and quietly left the house.

* * *

Working the night shift at a run down department store was most definitely something. It was ridiculous to have a store open until 12:00 am, if you ask me. I was especially wary about leaving Connie at home alone. It was always pretty quiet, except for the occasional party-goer that stumbled in for a quick buy. Just then, my co-worker, Amber came from the back.

"Oh, hey, Mallory!" She smiled. "I didn't hear you come in." I smiled in return.

"Yeah, I've been here for about 20 minutes." She laughed.

"Oops," she shrugged and returned to the back of the store.

Must be her shift for inventory, I thought to myself.

As I was left alone once more, I couldn't help but spend the remainder of the night worrying for Connie, just 10 years old, dealing with a load no one should ever have to carry. At just 10 years old, left alone in the grasps of our very own makeshift hell.

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HEY! This was turned into a collab chapter cuz I, Chunkymonkeywitcream , had writers block... So yeah thanks cutie4ever for the help XD

Don't like that much drama? You can find less dramatic stories on Chunkymonkeywitcream and/or cutie4ever.

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