An Eye For An Eye

•Chapter 3•

The next morning didn't feel right.

Chief woke me up by nosing my hand; like he always does. I took a shower and got shampoo in my eyes; like I always do. Then I fumbled through my closet for yet another dress. I usually wore dresses. Not because I was particularly girly, but because they were way easier for me to put on than pants and a shirt.

I swear I'm not lazy, I'm just blind.

I slipped whatever dress I had picked out over my head. I always knew it would look good because I had Shelby pick them out for me, and she was the epitome of a fashion queen.

I told myself the odd feeling I'd woken up with must just be stress. And even if it wasn't, I was determined to convince myself it was.

Even though I tried to ignore it, something still felt off, and it wasn't just because Casey was in the house. In the pit of my stomach, a hard knot was beginning to grow.

I grabbed my school bag from its rightful place on the hook to the right of my door. Chief led me down to the kitchen, and to my disgust, I found Casey was already up. I could feel the presence of another body in there; that, and he was crunching obnoxiously on a mouthful of cereal when I walked in. His form nearly blended into the chair he sat on.

I said nothing to him.

Chief sat patiently by his food dishes until I fed him, and then I slid my hands across the counter tops until they hit the cool metal of the fridge. I yanked it open.

"Didn't you say dad has been gone for two weeks?" Casey's words were muffled around the cereal in his mouth.

Without giving him an answer, I curled my fingers around an apple. They were always in the far left corner on the middle shelf. That was their place.

There was a small clinking sound. Casey's spoon against the cereal bowl. "How have you not run out of foo--"

"Shelby takes me to the grocery store."

Casey's spoon went quiet. He had stopped eating. "Do you need me to take you to scho--"

"Shelby takes me. She'll be here soon."

I reached up one shelf and grabbed a tub of yogurt from its place in front of the milk. I set the apple and yogurt on the counter, ripped a banana off of the bunch that sat in a bowl on the table, and returned to the knife block by the fridge. The second knife to the right in the middle row was the best for cutting fruit. I slid it out, poised it against the apple beneath my fingers, and--

"What are you doing?" Casey shoved his chair back, sending the wooden legs screeching across the floor.

"Writing poetry." My voice oozed sarcasm as I sunk the knife into the skin of the apple. I clenched my jaw. "I'm making breakfast, Casey, what does it look like I'm--"

His feet rushed over the stone tiles. "Stop, I'll do it."

"No." I snatched the apple and knife away from him as his shape flickered into my peripheral vision. Immediately, a small spot on my palm began to burn. I had cut myself. I knew right away it wasn't anything serious, but I still didn't want Casey to see. I made a tight fist. "I can do it myself."

"You just cut your hand."

Fuck.

"Yeah. Because you made me jump." I threw the apple and knife back onto the counter and washed my hands off in the sink. I called Chief over, grabbed his leash, and told him, "Bathroom."