Freakshow 〰 Miss Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children

Ch. 7 - Spring Cleaning

ᑕᕼ 7 - ᔕᑭᖇIᑎG ᑕᒪEᗩᑎIᑎG

This was going to be fucking awful.

Lately I'd been testing my powers. Nothing too serious, just like telling our dog to run into the glass door, or the neighbor lady with the saggy ass boobs to wear a bra, or Jacob to get me iced tea and give it to me while being a slave from the Egyptian era while seeing me as Cleopatra.

But lately it's taken a serious toll on me. After the bra incident, I sneezed into my arm for a thick coat of blood to come from my nose. I'm used to little nose bleeds, but not snorting out half my blood storage. I wanna thrive in this power, not die. I also became kind of a bitch- like I'm six days in my period and it hasn't slowed down and I ran out of ibuprofen and romance novels so I'm gonna be a cunt to you because you're in nearest proximity- but I can't help it. It's like I get this feeling of red hot anger and next thing I know I'm yelling at Ricky on our porch and saying it was all his fault after Jacob pulled a classic yet inappropriate "your-mom" joke about her blowing truckers at rest stops.

He left really fucking pissed.

So for the last few days, I've refrained from using my powers. Having them is pretty fucking cool, but I don't wanna bust a brain cell or something.

It also didn't help that Jacob now believed what that nutcase Dr. Golan described- the monster was a figment of imagination due to trauma. Yeah fucking right- if that thing was a lie than how did both of us see it? Our brains linked, Doctor?

And then my parents decided to put the horror crusted frosting on the already shitty fucking cake by making us have to go clean out Grandpa's house.

I wore the typical moving garb people wore in those old films papa would show me of him and grandma- my hair up in a bun with my bangs out under a red bandana that matched my flannel over a tank top and short shorts that only worked if you didn't have a ginormous ass- like me. I woke up and my eyes were green while my hair seemed extra curly, so I went with it, having no choice in the matter of my appearance. I quickly put on the work boots I put on the last time I went to grandpas with my backpack, being prepared to empty out his liquor cabinet first so I wouldn't have to deal with all the emotions that were gonna flow into me.

I already stuck a travel size tequila in my coffee, but I still got really fucking sad seeing his house.

The police tape was still on the bushes, flapping half heartedly in the breeze. The screen door remained clawed, and the dumpster we had rented laid on the curb menacingly. Like it was just going to take every year of grandpa in one go, not even giving any remorse.

I took another long swig of my coffee.

We went in and were assigned bags to throw stuff away with, but I ignored my Aunt Susie and her bitchy need to be all in my life, and went to granddads cupboard and began to fill my bag.

I know- why would you need anything from the fucking kitchen? A whisk to remember him by? Maybe a butter knife? No. In this kitchen held every gag April Fools Day mug, every zombie cup, every sarcastic apron that held a wildly inappropriate photo of a naked women that I'd make him wear whenever we baked, the old China I used to complain about because it looked like the ceramic maker was shit- it was all here. And I wasn't letting anyone grab this from me and put it in a fucking dumpster.

By the time I finished up packing my childhood- a cracked picture frame of me and grandpa with flour covered faces and my stupid pigtails on top of my overflowing bag- I looked to see the rest stolen from me. The eight foot stack of water damaged National Geographic magazines, the collection of vintage bowling shirts, his big band and swing '78's, the weapons from the goddamned cabinet he died trying to open- all were in separate spots, whether to give away or to throw away.

Jacob was no where to be found, but by the slam I heard three minutes earlier, I could assume he was in the bedroom I would live in when grandpa didn't feel like getting out of bed.

"Who in the everliving fuck threw away papa's Minkie?" When I turned six, I bought a mouse stuffed animal with wide, fake eyes and soft fur and gave it to my Grandpa. I tried to say Mickey, like the child raping Mouse from the clubhouse that's obviously an undercover strip club, but due to the fact that I'm a dumb fuck, it came out wrong. He let it sit by his bed since then, even though I told him to throw the damn thing away a thousand times, he never did.

I wanted him to throw it away, not them.

"Rosalina, language-" My aunt began, bewildered, but I cut her off.

"No, listen here Susie Q- Minkie was one of the only things I gave grandpa besides a headache and an occasional BB Gun bruise, and now that those are gone, this is one of the only things left. If you think that for one fucking second that I'm going to let you chuck this thing out because it has one eye and looks like it belongs in a child ward of an asylum, then you're dead fucking wrong." I snatch it from the pile in anger, pushing it into my chest in anger.

"Rose, listen-" My dad says, but I storm out of the house, going to the car and shrinking myself into the back seat before slamming the door.

This is all my grandpa's fault- if he hadn't been such an idiot and just stayed in the house, we could've found him being a nut job and he'd be in a home, where he needs to be. But he had to go all heroically yet ironically suicidal and get himself murdered. What I fucking prick. I hate him.

Slowly, my lip began to quiver as I ran my thumb over the fur of Minkie, laughing at my stupidity before closing my eyes and leaning back on my seat. I can't believe he still kept this.

Slowly my laughter stops, replaced by sobs as I hug the stupid stuffed animal a little harder, my body quivering.

Maybe I miss him a little bit- just like I maybe could of saved him. My sobs go a little louder.

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ᗰᗩᖇIETTᗩ

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Sorry about not updating last week, family shit. Thanks for 100, you guys are the best!

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Questions; How do you like Minkie?

How bitchy is Rosalina? How do you like her?