I guess I should start at the beginning. And the beginning would be my sixteenth birthday.
I was digging around in the dumpsters behind the public library. I know what you're thinking'Why the in hell is this girl digging through the trash? She must be a mental case or something right?'
Well, you're wrong if thats what you thought. I was digging in the dumpster because i hadn't eaten in three days, and had nowhere else to go. Yes, you heard that right. I was sixteen and homeless. And no I was not a 'runaway'. I was kicked out of my house. 'Why?' you may ask. Well, I would rather not go into that, but i will tell you it is pretty much your typical 'Evil Stepmother Situation".
Anyways, back to the dumpster. There wasn't anything very useful in there. So, crossing my fingers I walked over to the back library exit. It was so dark back there. The only light there was, was the dim orange glow above the back door, which is probably the reason i couldn't find anything in the dumpster. Damn thing was all the way on the other side of the back wall.
The bell from the tower on top of the library goes off. It is offically my birthday, happy friggin' birthday to me. My stomach growls. Its been days since my last meal. As I close my eyes to open the door, the thought of my favorite diner comes into my head. I haven't been there since my mother died five years ago. She use to take me there as a special treat, or if it was a special event.
I turn the handle and push. The door opens, but the smell of coffee and burgers and fries hits me. I open my eyes to see that I'm standing in the diner. What the hell? The neon light shine from the "Open" sign behind me, the old red torn leather booths, the smell of fresh coffee. No, this can't be happening. I was just outside of the library, how in the hell did I end up here? I must be sleeping, that's it! I pasted out due to my hunger, and now I'm just dreaming all of this.
"Lucy? Is that you?" I look up to see the diner owner, Joe. He was a dear friend of my mothers. He's an older guy, bald head, big belly, and if I remember correctly he could cook a mean scrambled egg. Taking a breath, I blinked a few times realizing it couldn't possibly be a dream. But if it is not a dream, how could this happen? I know i use to have minor memory loss as a child, but it stopped after my mother died. I snap back to reality.
"Joe!" I smile warmly at him as he makes his way arpund the counter to embrace me in a tight hug.
"It's been a while kiddo," he says looking at me,"And by that i mean years."
I looked down. "I know. I'm sorry, after mom died i just..." I didn't know how to finish that sentence. So I just look at my old beat up Vanns I have on.
"Hey now, dont say sorry, I know how ruff it was on you." He gives me a half smile, but there is a hint of confusion on his face.
"What is it, Joe?" I asked concerned by the look on his face.
"Sweetheart, don't take this the wrong way, but you look," he looks around searching for the words to say, "Well, you dont look your best dollface." I try to smile but fail miserably.
"Well I have been better." I eventually manage to choke out. He walks me over to the counter and sits me on a barstool.
"You sit here and I'll make your favorite. If i remember right its; scrambled eggs, two peices of bacon, and one pancake." Joe says walking back behind the counter.
"That's nice of you, Joe. But I don't really hav-" He cuts me off.
"It's on the house, don't worry about it. Maureen, get the girl a cup of coffee will ya?" He smiles at the middle-aged red headed woman down the counter. She rolls her eyes playfully at him. Then softly smiles at me.
"Here ya go little lady." She has a twang in her voice. Must be from the south.
The bell dings. "Order up!" Joe yells from the kitchen, handing Maureen my plate. She sets it down in front of me, and walks away.
"Eat up, Lucy." He says vanishing into the kitchen somewhere. I wouldn't've guessed that would actually be the last time I see Joe alive.
I down my food, and two cups of coffee. I tell Maureen goodbye and get up to leave. Being here reminds me of my mom. And thinking of her makes me think of my dad. My old dad, not the spineless coward Caroline turned him into. I think of my house too, well what use to be my house. The old tree house in the backyard that dad and i built together when I was six. I grab the handle to leave and think of my old room. I close my eyes and I can see it. My lavender colored walls, black dressers, and black and lavender bed set to match. All my posters on the walls; The Frey, Little Mix, Coldplay, Of Monsters and Men, and a bunch of famous people who use to mean the world to me. Then I picture my bookcase, the one thing I miss the most about home, other than my stereo. I rememeber most of the titles; The Great Gatsby, Great Expectation, The Perks Of Being A Wallflower, Its A Kind Of Funny Story. The list goes on really. I twist the knob in my hand, push, and open my eyes. Holy hell. I'm in my room.
What the hell? Again? I really must be dreaming now. There is no possible way i could be in my room. Even if I wasn't dreaming, how could I be here? She would never let me in, and dad wouldn't dare go against her. There's only one way to know for sure.
I walk down the fimliar, yet somehow strange hallway, to the room with yellow light peering from around the egdes of the door. I knock three times and wait for something to happen. I hear voices coming from the other side of the door, and movement.
"Who's there? I have a gun." Bullshit, my dad doesn't own a gun. Plus his voice cracked, it only does that when he's lying. "I said, who is there? I will shoot you." Cracked again. Damb dad, you really have to practice this in the mirror or something, jeez.
I take a deep breath. "Its me dad." I wait for a response. I wait for what feels like hours, days, weeks. Finally, the door opens.
