Andrew watched my mother's picture of me closely, then set it down, looking over at me. "You had really pretty hair." His tone was a bit disappointed and he looked over at the picture again, wondering what happened to cause me to be the way I am.
I wanted to yell so badly in his ears and say that my mother and father caused all this shit, but I kept my mouth close, shrugging effortlessly. Then, I got up and said in a nonchaluant voice, "Im making dinner, what would you like to eat?" Popping open the fridge, to my surprise the fridge was actually full instead of empty, like it usually was. Mom must have gone shopping.
"Would it be alright if you just made me breakfast? I know it is dinner time, but I really want breakfast." He stood there, not even wanting to sit down apparently, always staring at different points of the room. Sometimes his eyes would carefully lock with mine, but then he would look away, and I would have to be extra carefully not to drop any eggs.
The sizzle of the eggs made me sigh. It always felt good to cook a little now and then, to actually know how the cooking process works. Heat will make its way to the pan, through heat transfer, then to the egg, making it cooked. As I did that, I asked, "So how old are you?" I wanted to punch myself for saying that, but he stood calmly, waiting for a little bit.
Andrew sighed and said, "To be honest? Twenty Four." He then sat down on the couch, turning on the tv so that there would be no conversation between us. Shaking my head, I made the bacon, the eggs, and the sausage before I put it on a nice plate, then walked over to where he was.
I usually never wear approns or we dont have trays to eat in the living because everyone eithers eats in hte kitchen, or in the rooms, with my mom. Finally, I got there, and put his plate on the coffee table, saying, "Sorry we dont have a tray for you to eat on it." I sat down, so that I could see waht he was watching. Of coarse, it had to be football. I rolled my eyes.
There was a light chuckle produced from the other side of the living room, and my eyes adverted to him. Andrew sat there, looking at me with sudden intrest. He suddenly said, "How old are you?" Andrew's eyes didnt look interested in that, so he must already knew, just was curious to see how old I say I am.
"Sixteen." My voice sounded off and I wanted to grunt with fustration, but Andrew was there and he watched me with sudden interest. I didnt know what was in his eyes, but he looked calm, calculating...peaceful.
Suddenly, there was a voice in my head telling me not to say anything anymore. You possibly cant tell a stranger everything, or they might know too much. Just dont trust him. I bit my lip, not really listening to my voice and shoving it as far as possible away from my thoughts right now.
He smiled, and lightly moved his fingers on his lap, giving it a tap tap everytime he stroked the down beat. "Does your mom do this often?" Andrew didnt smile, but pure worry was on his face. "Does...Does anyone hurt you?" Now he was bitting his lip, scared to death as he turned whiter than white.
At the first question, I nodded quietly, saying, "Every night, I suppose. You get used to it, after a while. Its how we get to live here, and have food." I cocked my head on the second question, confusion written on my face. I smiled a little and said, "If anyone tries to touch me, my mom will kill them. After she gets their money, of coarse." I was a little nervous on the way he was acting, and he twitched a little as I basically said no. He made me a little worried, and I gulped. It wasnt so hard talking about my mom, but when it came to talking about what she was doing, that was the hard part for me.
There was silence in the living room for a while, the tv turned off when we started to talk. I was kind of happy that at least Andrew was here, just in case something happened. Unless he was the one to do bad things to me. Is he the good guy? Or is he the bad guy? He looked worried enough, enough for it to be just true. But people know how to act really well, and for all I know, he might be a really good actor.
Andrew's voice was steady, as he said calmly, "That's good. Then I shouldnt be worried. I just thought that the guys...." He trailed off, because I held up my hand, stopping him from talking.
"Look, I know my mom is like the most horrible person in the world, but she is my mom, and she would never do that to me." Defending my mom felt awful, and I wanted to take all the words back, just to say that she does horrible things to me, and not that she protects me. My heart was beating, but I just wanted to scream. Maybe I could cut myself when Andrew's asleep.
For a couple of moments, he sat there, watching me carefully and clasping his hands together. "Then do you mind if I go to bed now? I have had a long day, and I need my rest for tomorrow." He got up, and I got up clumisly, trying to perfect how he got up, but not doing so well. Andrew held out my hand, and I shook it without any gentleness, or hardness, just a regular shake.
I shook my head and said, "Well, let me show you your room first." There was a guest bedroom at the end of the hall, because all the bedrooms close to me were used for junk, games, computers, and other crap that my mom has. I climbed the stairs, trying to make my feet light and not let them creak. On the other side of me, Andrew was trying, but failing and I smiled, finding a flaw in him. Then, I realized that I just smiled, and frowned again, not really accepting that I was happy with him.
Once we got to his room, I bid him a farewell and good night, watching as he closed the door. i heard the click of the lock, and sighed, going to my room and leaving the door open. I had no worries of anyone seeing me naked at all. Well...at least I thought so.
I pulled off my shirt, checking the time. 9 pm. Knowing my mom, she was probably still down there, and would be for two whole days after this. I sighed, and rumaged through my closet, taking off my tank top. Then, I heard the last thing Ive ever wanted to hear in my whole life.
"Hello there pretty."
