Purely White

Dex

There's a certain point in time when all you want to do is hide in a hole and stuff your face with the most fattening foods you can find. I'm feeling that way right now.

I scan over the titles on my bookshelf, looking for something to read and coming out with nothing but an empty stomach and a bored conscious.

I lay back and groan out, thinking maybe a small trip to the kitchen won't be that bad. Boy, was I wrong.

I head downstairs to the back entrance to the kitchen and peek around the corner, pressed up against the wall. I don't see my mom so I'm hoping that it's all clear.

I walk quietly into the kitchen and lean down by the cabinets that hold all of my precious food, chips, sweets, pretzels, candy. I have no idea what to choose so I take a little bit of everything. It's only to satisfy my hunger for the night.

I turn back around after shutting the cabinet door quietly and come face to face with my mother, whose eyes could send anyone for the hills, whose intense, unfaltering gaze could send you digging your own grave, whose harsh words and punishments could make anyone cower below her.

Groundings in this house work simply; no leaving your room and no making contact with the outside world. I've just broke both of the rules- sort of. I left my room and made contact with my mom. My arms drop and I have to position them in a certain way so the food doesn't fall everywhere and I get sent to work for Satan.

I stare at my mom's nose, not being able to find the courage to look up into her deep, blue eyes that could murder.

"Dex. Timothy. Ross," she whispers, making me finally look up to watch her eyes narrow so much I thought they'd turn into little slices of salami.

"Uhm," I murmur, looking at the situation I'm in. I'm smuggling food from my kitchen when I'm supposed to be grounded and my mom is about to slap me so hard I go six feet under.

"I can explain." I shouldn't have said that, definitely not. She'll make me explain so far in depth that I won't be able to talk for hours.

"Enlighten me," my mom says, crossing her arms yet keeping the same pissed off look on her face. I gulp and look around at all the detail of the kitchen. The small vases balanced so delicately on top of the cabinets, yet even if someone were to slam a cabinet door shut the vase wouldn't fall off. The little black swirls of paint lining the top, middle, and bottom sections of the walls. The white cabinets advertising small carving around the edges with shapes I can't bring myself to try to identify the name of.

"I was hungry," I say after realizing I had been stalling a minute too long.

"Go upstairs, now," my mom says, not looking away from me as I hold on to my food tightly and turn to run upstairs.

"I better not see you until tomorrow morning!" she yells after me and I run into my room, slam the door shut and lean up against it, breathing deeply.

I think about how much worse that could've gone, how bad it had gone in the past. I can't bring myself to think about the reason for my mother letting me off the hook so easily. She must be plotting something to make my life miserable, surely.

My stomach growls, interrupting my thoughts, and I look down at the armful of food I'm holding up against my chest. Oh right.