Fat Chance

Sibling Love

It was raining hard as hell outside, the wind smacking the trees against the side of the house; just like in some creepy horror film.

I was under my favorite fuzzy blanket laying on the air mattress, breathing machine strapped to my face. It sucks being so morbidly obese that you can't even breathe on your own when you're sleeping.

The last few days have been the best days for Alecia and the worst for Quinn. Wyatt now thinks that I'm all down for being sexual at the drop of a hat, but in reality, I (Quinn) am super uncomfortable with it. Alecia, on the other hand, is a slut and doesn't care, which puts Quinn in a very awkward position.

This is the 4th night since the first night him and I first had "phone sex" that I was unable to sleep. It made me sick to think of what I was doing. I mean, Wyatt isn't the worst person in the entire world to have phone sex with. But that doesn't change the fact that I still find the male species very sexually repulsive.

Then again, Wyatt would probably feel the same way if he saw Quinn.

I pulled my breathing mask off of my face and sat up. Instinctively, I grabbed my iPod to check the time.

4 am

Looks like it will be another sleepless night.

I lay back down and rolled over onto my left side, pulling my blanket up to my chin and tucking it under my head. The bus came in 3.5 hours, and I knew neither of my parents would be down to giving me a ride to school if I over slept and missed the bus, so I needed to get to sleep.

The sounds of the branches scraping across the outside of the house and the howling of the wind sounded ten times the sound of how it should've sounded. Every sound echoed in my head and gave me a migraine. 

I pulled a pillow over my head, trying to block out the noise. A half hour passed, then one before I finally got up and decided It wasn't of any use to try to get anymore sleep tonight.

The concrete floor of my basement dungeon felt like ice against the bottoms of my bare feet as I slowly inched my way upstairs, careful not to make any noise. 

As always, the only light on was in the dining room, and even that was just a small lamp, on just in case Alex had troubles or something. I walked through the living room with our extremely expensive looking leather couch and flatscreen TV into the dining room with the big oak table that never gets used and a crystal chandelier hanging above it into the kitchen.

The kitchen, like every other room in our house, looks like the fucking Kardashians designed it. There's a huge marble topped island in the middle with barstools and fancy liquor bottles arranged around it, even though neither my mom or dad ever drank anything heavier then beer. The cabinets are made of an expensive looking wood, the insides filled with the most delicate looking china, even though we only ever usually ate our meals on paper plates with disposable silverware.

Basically, our whole house was a lie.

We lived like the average upper middle class family,  but our belongings conveyed the image of wealth and prosperity.  Which, by the way, couldn't have been farther from the truth. Just look at the way my parents and Alex dress, and you'd know they were just average people with average paying jobs. But for some reason, even though we very rarely had guests, my parents felt the need to splash expensive material possessions around our house, just to make us seem wealthy. In all honesty, I think my parents are putting this show on to make themselves feel special and worthy, which is totally stupid. But hey, whatever floats their boats. Not my money their wasting.

I walked over to one of the way-to-fancy-for-our-family cabinets and pulled down three packets of cocoa and my favorite hot cocoa mug. I then walked over to the way-to-expensive-for-our-own-good fridge, pulled out the milk, and mixed that and the cocoa mixture together.

While that was in the microwave, I slowly crept down the hall and into the bathroom. I flicked on the light and took a good look at myself in the mirror. The only attractive thing I could see in my reflection was my hair, so black it looked like dolls hair. My hair was also beginning to grow a bit longer, which was very good. But as far as my face and body goes, I still wanted to puke when I looked at them. 

I sighed, went pee, washed my hands, and walked back to the kitchen to drink my cocoa. 

Sitting on the short barstool my mom had bought exclusively for Alex, was Alex himself, holding onto his stuffed frog. 

"Hey there, bud." I walked into the kitchen and ruffled his hair while walking past him to the microwave. 

"Hello, Quinn," Alex cheerfully replied. He always used full words and names, no abbreviations, which was very weird for anyone, let alone a 2 year old. 

"What are you doing up so early?," I asked as I stirred my cocoa.

Alex shrugged and looked down at the floor. This is what happened whenever me and Alex had any kind of extended reaction: he gets shy. AND I'M HIS GODDAMN SISTER! But in all fairness, the kid doesn't really know me that well, and I have no idea what he's overheard about me. 

I shut the microwave door and walked over to him. "You should probably go back to sleep before Mom goes in to check on you and discovers your gone." With my luck, she would probably think it's my fault he's out of bed. Which might be a bit true since I WAS kind of noisy, but that's besides the point. 

He looked up at me for a minute and then quickly redirected his gaze down to the floor. 

I sighed. "Well I'm gonna go finish my cocoa and try to get a bit more rest. Maybe I'll see you before I leave?"

Alex looked up at me. "What happened to your hair?"

I touched my head self consciously. "What do you mean?" 

"It used to be yellow and now it's black. How?"

I tried to search for the words I could use to make him understand. "Well, buddy," I said. "I colored it."

"Why?" he asked. 

"Because I thought it would look nicer"

Alex nodded. "It does." 

Then something happened that blew my mind. 

He got up from his stool and ran over to me. I looked down to see his brown eyes staring up at me.

"I love you", he said as he wrapped his arms around my legs, hugging me.

I stood there, totally shocked. "I love you too, Alex," I said. 

He finally let go and ran off to his bedroom, probably not wanting to get caught. I understood how he felt. If Mom found put I had allowed him to hug me, she'd go ballistic. 

Carrying my hot cocoa, I walked downstairs to my dungeon and shut the door. 

I lay on my air mattress, sipping my drink until I began to feel sleepy. I rest my head on the pillow next to me as I drifted off, not thinking about how much I hated myself for the first time in a long time.