Blythemus

Chapter 1

(A/N- So this is really new for me.  I've tried to do my best and I hope y'all like it :) Chapter 5 is important to I hope you guys read till there.)

 

 

CHAPTER ONE

Lynette knocked on Caroline’s door. The loud music had easily swallowed the knock. She knocked again, “Caroline?” The thumping metal music still continued and Lynette was grateful that the walls hadn’t succumbed to it and that they still managed to keep the better part of the noise inside Caroline’s room. The bass though could be felt from the other side of the street. She knocked again, rapidly this time. “Caroline?” she called louder. This was sick, why was she even bothering?

  Right as she was about to knock for, what seemed like, the hundredth time; the door swung open just enough to have Caroline’s face right into Lynette’s. She flinched an inch away. “WHAT?” her voice was aggravated, “I asked you- WHAT? Are you deaf?”

   Wow. So now she was deaf?

  “I’m sorry,” Lynette blinked “I couldn’t hear it over all the silence.” Caroline rolled her eyes. “What do you want?” “Your laundry” Lynette answered. Momentarily, the door shut and it opened again with the girl- who had dyed her hair black and red, worn about fifty dresses from her closet in the past hour and woken the neighbourhood with her “calming morning music”- holding a light blue sock in her hand.

  Yes- One.

  Lynette held the piece of cloth in her hand. “Are you kidding?” She asked, tired of the same drama every day.

 “What?” Caroline widened her eyes mockingly.

  “You don’t even want to bother to give me the other one?”

  “No”

  “Caroline, you know Patricia is going to be really mad at me if she finds out I haven’t taken any clothes from your room”

  “Well, I can’t find the other one” her voice was scornful, “come and help me look for it.” With that her door swung wide open. Lynette let out a sharp breath. She had to get this over with. As she entered the room, she felt like the music would pop her ear drums along with the loud thumping vibrations that throbbed inside her. The floor of the room was covered with dirty clothes- t-shirts, shirts, mini’s, tube tops, skirts and brassieres- scattered all over the place. Lynette looked around- she was sure there had been a sofa under that pile of clothes. So apparently Caroline had had a hard time looking for one dirty t-shirt in this beautiful stack. Lynette looked at her. From under the dark fringe that covered almost her entire face, Caroline smirked and her mock defensive tone was on. “I told you I couldn’t find it!”

  Lynette sighed and bent down. Crawling around the room, she picked up the clothes and stuffed them in the basket. Why was she doing this… just because her Aunt allowed her a roof to live under?

Yes.

  Lynette shook her head at her own helplessness. Caroline was a brat, spoilt by her mother and even though Lynette was busy picking up her clothes, a part of her was secretly plotting to punch Caroline in the face. She stopped for a brief second. What was wrong with her? She wasn’t the aggressive kind. Even thinking aggressive was not really her nature. But she was human after all. And some people were quite capable of awakening things inside her that she never knew she had.

After she had inched all over the floor collecting every garment that she saw, she got to her feet. The scoundrel had a vile smile on her pig face, “Bye!” Caroline said, holding the door open for her. As she passed her, Lynette gulped down her exasperation. She left the pig sty and went downstairs to a quieter place- the laundry room- which had always been her refuge and given her solace when her own room was too claustrophobic. After she had put the clothes in the washing machine and muttered a series of almost inaudible offensive words to every garment that she had collected from the room above her, she made her way to her room. This room- unlike the laundry room- ended as soon as it started. She went and sat on the bed that her “generous” Aunt had so “lovingly” given, which creaked multiple times like a badly oiled almost rusted hinge of a door, every time you moved.

  She took out her diary from under the bed- the hiding places hadn’t really gotten more creative- and wrote:

Dear Diary,

                  This is so typical. I mean it’s like a scene of a fairy-tale- wicked-step- mother- kind- of- aunt and an evil cousin. It’s just so… classic. The only difference is that this story doesn’t really have a happy part. So it can’t really be called a fairy-tale, it’s a nightmare.

                I’m so tired of all this. My desire to earn twenty dollars a week at the pizza shack is the beginning and the end of the interest my existence generates. I don’t know why I’m whining or self-pitying. I really shouldn’t. These people were kind enough to keep me here with them.

                And maybe I should try and understand Aunt Patricia too. I mean, after Gerry left, I’m sure she’s going through a rough phase- emotionally and financially. And to add to it, she has to take care of me too. So I think I can make an effort to understand her problem.  Maybe Caroline is going through something like that too. That could explain her converting into a total emo. I should talk to her sometime. Mrs. Mallory, our school counselor, told me that she hadn’t shown up for her appointment for the past few weeks. Maybe she isn’t comfortable with the counselor. That’s why I think I should talk to her… It will be good for both of us. A little bonding can help.

                This reminds me so much of mom. The way I could talk to her about anything and everything- the way I could come and hug her when I felt sad or the times when we laughed at Carter Reign’s Commercial. It’s been more than two months since she’s dead and I still can’t help but think about her. It doesn’t matter how far the topic is from her, I always end up thinking about it. Every time I think about the times we argued, I feel so guilty. I wish I could have spent it telling her how much I love her.

  Lynette paused, picking her pen from the paper. If she wrote anything more, she would end up spoiling the paper by blotting the ink with her tears. She blinked them back and shut her diary. Lynette couldn’t sit in her room anymore. Doing nothing encouraged her mind to bring back old and painful memories. Staying busy- stopped her from doing so. So she got off the bed, which obviously had to announce she was getting off by screeching loudly, and stepped out of the room. Her shift at ‘The Shack’ was about to start and she would be late if she wasted another minute. Taking the coat off the rack, she buttoned it and left the house.