Don't Forget

☪ Chapter 1| The Jelly Doughnut ☪

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I woke up to the sound of burning.

That couldn't be good.

Normally, I would love to hear the sound of failed cooking, smoke arising from the food that was meant to be eaten. It harvests good memories from my childhood.

But I lived alone, in an apartment and the only reason I love to hear the sound of sizzling food is because of the woman who died ten years ago.

I took a moment to sniff the air, making sure it wasn't just my imagination. It wasn't, which frightened me even more. I didn't want an intruder in here. When I was a kid, I remember loads of people trying to break into my parents' house, partially in an attempt to assassinate my father.

I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes. The cool morning breeze hit me, making me want to burrow back under the covers.

But I had an intruder to deal with.

I must seem a little too calm about this? Trust me, I wasn't but if there was one thing I learned from my father it was to never show emotion.

I peered at the living room from my bedroom door. I looked left, then right, then left again, closing my eyes and letting out a sigh of relief. The coast was clear.

I scolded myself for thinking someone might have entered the apartment. It was next to impossible to be able to do such a thing. My father had lined up at least ten well-armed guards at the doors, and a high tech security that wasn't in the market yet. It must have cost a fortune.

Of course, paying for a fortune has never been difficult in my family.

I slinked into the kitchen, scanning the place with my half-closed eyes. There was still no one there and I couldn't smell anything anything, must have been my imagination...

I smiled ruefully at the empty kitchen. There was no one at the stove, like there used to be ten years ago. There was no one shaking me awake to get out of bed and go to school. No one kissed my cheek, or ruffled the gold hair I had inherited from her.

It was amazing that even after an entire decade I couldn't let go. It was amazing that I still thought of her till this day, still having flashbacks.

Someone kept on tickling my ten year old nose.

I stirred in my sleep, scrunching up my nose, sleepily trying to swat away whatever was the source of the tickling. I heard faint giggles, as I brought my hand up to my nose and- splat!

I shot up awake, noticing I had a fluffy white beard, only it wasn't a beard. It was whip cream. I grimaced, as I tried to wipe it off.

I could only hear laughter.

"Mom! That's not funny!" I cried, but couldn't help the small smile that stretched across my face.

Mom snorted, her vivacious green eyes brimming with happiness. "Kind of was."

"What is wrong with you? Why can't you just wake me up normally?"

She feigned hurt, putting her hand over her heart, like she had just been shot with a bullet. "Something wrong with little old me?" She pouted sadly.

I rolled my eyes, as she continued to laugh. Falling back into the pillows. Once my mom was done laughing, she shook me.

"I don't want to go to school..." I complained, half opening my closed eyes.

I could see her frown at that. The frown looked so unnatural on her, so different. I wanted her to stop.

"Why, Mikey?" She asked. Sometimes I would find her nickname for me incredibly embarrassing, but she looked so happy saying it, the name simply rolling off her tongue.