I stuck my rusty house key in the lock and quietly opened the door. I peered inside, and once I concluded the coast was clear, I hurriedly walked up the stairs.
I locked my bedroom door behind me. Looking in my mirror, I saw faint tears on the corners of my eyes. My face felt sticky, and I cringed. I splashed my face with lukewarm water. When I finished up, I flung myself on my bed.
I considered ringing Stella, my cousin. She seems to be the only person who well and truly tolerates me right now. Then I remembered her telling me she was going shopping with her girlfriend. That rules her out.
I also thought of going outside and actually meeting some friends. Considering I simply don't do people, that could only end in disaster. After a few minutes of pure nothing, I sighed.
My mind wandered over to the man in the park. Zayn. He didn't seem like a Zayn, he seemed more like a Zachary when I first saw him, but thinking now, it's not exotic enough.
Before my mind could fully catch up, I grabbed my art supplies: a notepad and a few pencils. Even though everything I touch normally ends up in flames, there did happen to be two things I did to escape, writing and drawing.
My tongue poked out in concentration. My fingers gripped harder around the small pencil, and my hand rushed across the crisp paper. I erased a part of the drawing for effect and then dropped the rubber. My lips curved into a slight grin.
The picture was imperfectly perfect. Obviously, I could only draw what I remembered of him, but it was enough to go by. I carefully closed my notepad, not wanting to smudge or damage the drawing. it had to be my favourite so far.
" Donna! Could you please come down and help me?" My mother called, and I nodded, even though she couldn't see me. I silently trudged downstairs, and in a daze, came to the kitchen.
" Donna! Did you hear me?" my mother called again, she musn't of heard me. I walked up behind her.
" Here."
She jumped and dropped whatever she was holding, and gripped her finger. I gasped when I saw a small, but bloody knife on the draining board.
" I'm sorry, I didn't think I would scare you," I told her. She nodded, and faced me. My eyes darted to her finger, and saw a flap of skin hanging off. She wasn't in dire danger, she just needed maybe a few stitches.
" Could you take me to the doctors, honey?" she asked. I nodded, knowing her she wouldn't go to the hospital unless her head was hanging by a thread. She would still put up a fight.
We got into her Honda Civic and I drove to the hospital. She kept glancing around, looking more confused by the minute.
" Dear, this isn't the way to the doctor clinic, it's in the other direction."
" I know."
We pulled into the hospital, and I lead her in. She got very panicky, and it almost made me forget I was dealing with a forty year old, and not a four year old.
I told the kind receptionist and luckily for us, a doctor was just coming back from his lunch. My mother requested I stay outside the door, and I waited. After five minutes, I curiously opened the door quietly, to see what was taking so long.
Looking though the ting crack, my eyes scanned the room. I was confused to see nobody, but I could hear something. I walked in and closed the door behind me.
It was a large, dull room. There were many pictures on the wall, posters for children on how to keep healthy and safe. I walked up to a skeleton model, when I heard a moan. I froze. What if he was hurting her? Where were they?
I saw another door in the corner of the room. Must be the supply closet, I thought. I tip-toed towards it, and heard a quieter, but noticeable moan. I stifled a gasp. There was a small window on the door.
I peeked through the dirty window, and saw my mother, naked and backed up against the wall. Was she alright? Then I saw the doctor, also naked, leaning in front of my mother. His hands were on her hips, and her eyes were screwed shut in pleasure.
I backed away from the door, horrified. My nose scrunched up, and I began to sneeze. One thing you should know, is I don't 'kitten sneeze'. My sneezes were one of the loudest you might hear, and I was worried that my mother would hear. I saw the door open, and my mother shamelessly stepped out, covering herself with her sweater. Her wide eyes met mine, and she gasped.
" Donna, dear. What are you doing in here? I told you to wait outside," she said nervously, checking behind her shoulder.
" What were you doing?" I asked her, dodging her question.
" Getting my finger stitched up!" she hissed.
" Stark naked?" I retorted.
" Listen, nothing happened. Doctor Smith accidental cut my blouse, that's all. But, don't mention this to your father. This between you and I, correct?" she stated.
" Fine." My mother smiled, and the man appeared from behind her, fully dressed. He smirked at me, and I frowned. After getting a closer look at him, he looked less than half my mothers age.
" Hello, Donna. You can call me Simon," he introduced himself. I cringed away from his hand. He awkwardly coughed, and then wrapped his arm around my mother's waist., and she giggled.
She actually giggled like a school girl.
I looked away as he stitched up her finger, and slipped a note into her back pocket of her jeans.(She had copped on and put her clothes back on.)As she walked past me, Simon leaned down and his breath fanned on my ear.
" You'll be seeing more of me." As he pulled away, he smirked.
