I awoke to my sister projectile vomiting all over the bathroom. Of course I had to clean it. You know, I feel like Cinderella sometimes.
Mama died five years ago and ever since it's just been the three of us, Father, Rosa , and I. I usually do the cleaning and cooking. Father is 62 years old and I have to help him with some activities, like everything.
Rosa was finally finished barfing all over and I assumed I would make eggs and bacon for breakfast. Nobody could have a nightmare as realistic as this one, my actual life.
Father was bound to smell the alcohol on Rosa's breath. Who knows what he would do. I decided to serve Rosa breakfast in our room because she "wasn't feeling well."
He knew something was up,but he's too lazy to inspect it. "Good morning Father" ,I said as I served him his platter of food.
"Why good morning darling, where is your sister?"he called across the kitchen.
"She's on the room, she's not feeling her finest this morning." I lied.
"Okay then."
"I'm going to serve her breakfast."
"Don't over work yourself." He yelled as I walked down the hall to our room.
(Sorry for the short chapters.)
