Lost In Time

A Shared Hatred

Thanks to everyone who has read this so far, I'm just...thanks! :) Love you guys/gals!

I woke up feeling refreshed and for once, not tired. I had slept through the night without going on any trips. A feeling of personal victory came over me as I stretched and smiled to myself. Yawning, I walked over to the window by the vacant bed of my non-existent roommate and pulled back the curtains, enjoying the view of the sun just barely cresting the school rooftops. Greenvale from this angle looked like an old castle. If that castle was made of old stone brick and had gardeners with mowers out whistling as they worked. I smiled faintly, feeling optimistic about the day, something I haven't felt in a long time. It was a new day. Tomorrow, I would be starting my chosen classes. It was a new phase of my life. Sure, it was change, but it might be a good change, right? Sighing, I appreciated the morning sun once more before leaving the window in lieu of a shower. Every room had a nice bathroom attached to every room for the tenants, and since I wasn't sharing my room (or so it seemed) it looked like the bathroom was all mine as well. I hummed to myself as I got ready, braiding my glossy brown hair for a change. I put on some nice tan capris and a tank top with flip flops. Finally, I put on some lip gloss, and grinned at my reflection in the mirror. I used to wear this sort of stuff all the time back in California, it was nice to remember the good old times.

I delicately pushed my bangs behind my ear before going out to the kitchen to make some coffee. It was just barely seven a.m., and the entire floor was as silent as a ghost town. I laughed softly to myself, exploring the shelves stocked with food, and oh yes, coffee. Simon had given me the next two days off again, but I probably was going to go in anyway. Working was better than having everyone stare at you. I idly wondered if anyone would roust themselves from their slumber when the delicious smell of coffee and the bacon I was putting in a pan hit them. I usually was out of the house before any of them were up, so this was going to be a fun little experiment for me. I put in my earphones and started singing Stand By You. It was such a good song, Rachel Platten did a good job with it. I started to sing the chorus, ignoring that little thought in the back of my head that I would wake someone up, and cracked some eggs into the frying pan.

A few minutes later, I had a steaming cup of fresh coffee with eggs, bacon, and toast. It smelled like heaven, and still no one was here. Hm...that told me everything I needed to know about my dorm mates. They preferred their sleep to food. I was the exact opposite. Shrugging to myself, I finished my breakfast, rinsed off my dishes, and finished my coffee. Rinsing out my mug, I did the responsible thing and put my dishes into the empty dishwasher. I have always tried to do this, otherwise I get a bittersweet flashback to lectures from my grandfather Michael...Eli, we all work hard in this family. No one is above the rest. So we all do our chores. Our rooms are our responsibility. Our laundry is our responsibility. As is our own dishes. If you do this, you will find life isn't as bad as everyone says it is. The key is to keep your home life clean and tidy, and then you will always have somewhere to go that won't change on you.

I never knew what he meant at that time, so I just smiled and did my chores without complaint from then on out, simply to avoid the lecture that would come. Now, I missed those lectures more than anything. I frowned, wiping down the counter. He promised he would sent postcards, or letters, but none have come. Did he even know his son was dead? That I had been sent to live with the woman that he said nothing about because he didn't want to taint my young, innocent ears with army crudeness? That was the only thing Dad and he argued about, was my mother. Gramps never thought that I should have to go to those stupid meetings forced by the social worker. He always argued that my mother never showed up, so why have me set up for false hope? It only hurt me in the end. Dad always had more faith in Mom than she deserved. I wondered what he thought of her now, wherever he was. Would he say the same things about her? He never stopped loving her. I used to think she loved him to, in her own special way, until I moved into the Brownstone. I knew better now. That childhood fantasy had left me two years ago.