Desolate

Chapter Three

The next morning I woke to the smell of bacon. I normally take around an hour to get ready, but I was changed within a record of half an hour. My feet padded against the carpeted stairs to finally be met with the wooden floor.

"Dad." I breathed out, surprised to see him in the kitchen. He looked up from his newspaper at the sound of my voice and pushed the plate of bacon towards me with a smile.

"Hey kiddo, I made you some breakfast." He says looking back down at his newspaper and propping his feet up on the small stool.

I cast him a strange glance but sit and eat my bacon anyway. I study his face. He sort of looks like me, with dark brown hair and we have the same nose. He had always told me I looked a lot like my mother.

My mother left us when I was around 2 years old so I don't really remember her. My father had told me many stories about her though despite how much it pained him, how they had met in her hometown in Italy, how they had been the golden couple in high school and even how they had caused a lot of trouble around the town.

I've never really asked why she left but I had once seen a letter in his study from her. It had been sent from Italy so I'm guessing she had moved on with another family. "Are you okay, sweetie?" My father asked from across the table, a frown etched onto his aging, hurt features. He was eyeing the now crumpled, crispy bacon that I had lost my appetite for.

"Yeah I was just thinking." I offered him a small smile. "I have some homework to do, are you working tonight?"

He sighed and pushed his glasses back up his nose. "Yeah sweet, sorry. It's been very busy in the hospital recently." I shrugged in response and headed back up to my room to begin on my hours of needed revision.

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Thirty minutes later I was already sprawled out across my bed watching 'Gotham' on Netflix. "So much for revising." I thought. I had ditched my Physics homework about 5 minutes ago before Netflix had finally tempted me.

Out of my eye I saw a dark figure move across the street. I walked up to my window and peeped out, squinting at the bright reflection of the newly blanketed snow. I spotted a familiar but unfamiliar hoodie. It was the boy I had seen rushing out of class yesterday.

He had his head down and his hands hiding in his pockets. He seemed to be in a rush and I couldn't see his eyes because of his black hair drooping over his forehead. I gasped when he looked straight into my eyes, into my soul and quickly closed the curtains.

My heart was beating erratically and I was struggling to get my breathing steady again. It wasn't because he had caught me looking, I had the right to look out of my window. What shocked me was the sadness and the coldness of his eyes. What were once probably orbs of vibrant color were now empty vacuums of a cold grey. Grey or not, they still managed to make my heart stop momentarily.

I finally snapped out of my trance like state when "hips don't lie" by Shakira began to play and laughed at Dylan's choice of ringtone. I quickly answered and pressed the phone to my ear.

"Hey Ocean, get dressed. We're going out today."