Good Morning, Good Evening, And Good Night

Chapter 1

Alex
I open my eyes to see the morning sun, hovering gracefully above the meadow trees. Shining, brightly into my bedroom window. I haul myself up into a sitting position and examine my clock so my eyes can adjust. 6:30a.m. I have another half an hour until I get up for the big day ahead.
I blink a few times for my eyes to finally merge everything into focus, roll back my covers and stretch. I can't wait for the day to come, I really can't. I ignore the fact that I'm not supposed to get up for another half an hour, dress myself in a neat, blue checkered blouse and my brand new black jodhpurs that my mother got me from the Horse shop, down the road. Brushing my lengthy, silky, cinnamon hair, I notice a pair of riding boots in the corner of my room, just sitting there, lonely. Maybe they're a surprise? Well, not anymore. I'll have to fake my smile of delight and eyes bulging with excitement. I slip on a pair of white trainer socks, and creep downstairs for breakfast.
"What are you doing down here?" My sister says with a subtle smirk on her face.
"What's so funny?" I ask, nervously. I have to wait about 10 seconds before actually receiving a reply.
"Those silly leggings. You look like one of them stupid popular girls in P.E." She gave a small choke as if to stop herself from laughing out loud.
"They're jodhpurs!" I snap back. Lindsey has a habit of making fun of me. She bosses me around and shouts at me when the smallest thing doesn't go her way. We continue this hostile conversation for another 5 minutes before we hear a loud creek in the floorboards upstairs. That's when we realise it's our mother. We've woken her up once again with our morning squabble. Trying to act as normal as possible, I slide to the tea pot and Lindsey sits at the breakfast table with her sloppy, 'AllOaty' porridge, as we listen to the dreaded footsteps of a very angry woman.
"What's going on down here?" She screeches, deafeningly. Neither me, nor Lindsey give an answer. We stare, waiting for the next blow.
"You expect me to read your mind?" She continues. "This needs to stop! I don't care what you're arguing about, you two need some quality bonding time. You will learn to get on, otherwise what am I going to do with you?". Now, I will warn you, this is where it gets personal. Every time we argue, she drones on about the same thing.
"You know if your father was here, you'd be in your rooms." 'But Dad's not here' I think to myself. I feel the need to say this, but I don't want to take any chances, not with the opportunities coming to me in a few hours.
"Ever since Dad left for that Verica-"
"Shut up Mum!" My mother and I turn to stare at Lindsey in shock. Tears start trickling down her face. "All you ever do is go on, and on, and on about Dad! He's gone! He left 2 years ago now, just leave it! It's in the past!" My mother inhales to speak again but instead lets out a steady sigh.
There's silence for a while. I sip the last of my tea and make myself some cereal. The magnificent flavour of freshly picked blueberries explode in my mouth, sweet and sour swarming over my tongue. It's been years since I last had blueberries like these. I nuzzle my nose into the sweet-smelling Autumn bread baked in the bakery next door, take a bite and mush the luxurious, fluffy bread in my mouth. I imagine clouds being parted by a racing Pegasus, striving to reach the finish line and do its owner proud. I walk over to the window to feel the April breeze stroke my face and glide through my hair like pond skaters on a beautiful Summer's lake. The clouds seem more fragile but peaceful today. I get a whiff of next doors morning croissants and the sugar icing they top it off with, the perfect smell to go with the luscious green blades of grass, blended with red and orange smudges of the fallen leaves from the magnificent hazelnut trees. Flash backs of when I was young, my father lifting me up to pick hazelnuts, me delicately snapping small twigs of 3 or 4 hazelnuts at a time, getting a row from my father for picking the green ones and not the brown. The green ones, though not ripe always looked pretty to me. Pure, light green has always been my favourite colour, since I can remember. After 4 of these incidents I couldn't be trusted, so of course Lindsey took my place.
There's always been a slight sense in the back of my mind that Lindsey was Dad's favourite, it's always just made sense. All the things he did with her and not me. Mexico, dance championships, even just take my dog Ashton over the park. This thought brought a tear to my eye. Ashton was mine, he was given to me on my 9th birthday. Not Dad, not Lindsey, not Mum, Ashton was mine. Dad seemed to think he could just take, take, take and leave nothing for us. Including Ashton. Ashton was my other half, a vital organ needed to keep me going. Gone forever. I'll never be mended. I can move on, forget, but not mend. I'll always have that gaping hole, waiting to be re-patched. Unless I find another therapist, another organ. Today is my one and only chance to patch this gateway to sorrow and misery. My only chance to get myself a shoulder to cry on.