Throw Away The Key {ON HOLD}

Revenge is Sweet

Knock knock knock.

Groan.

Knock knock knock.

"Go away."

More knocking.

Okay, whoever is interrupting my beauty sleep is going to get their neck broken. I somehow managed to pry myself from the curtain of sleep around my mind. I groaned in irritation and opened my eyes. I turned my head to the left to spot my guitar lying haphazardly across my bed. I guess I had fallen asleep while I was playing. I covered my eyes with my forearm. Why do fan lights have to be so bright? It's like their sole reason for being created is to burn out your eyeballs. I blew out a half-hearted raspberry to the ceiling and heard my dad's voice sound out behind my closed bedroom door.

"Bear? Can I come in?" His gruff voice was slightly muffled.

"Yeah."

I heard a soft click as my door opened, and my eyes glanced to my unpacked bags. I groaned in frustration. Guess I have to look up to unpacking before my first day of junior year tomorrow. Both such amazing things to look forward to. Not. I sat up on my bed as by dad stepped into my room. He was in his usual crisp suit and tie, an attire I almost always see him in. His chocolate brown hair was slightly tousled and he had bags under his chestnut brown eyes that used to be so vibrant. He had a questioning look in them.  I smiled, and the look was replaced with relief. He gave a brief smile of his own. "Feeling better?" I nodded. "Good. I made some sandwiches in the kitchen if your hungry."

   Awesome. Well seeing as dinosaurs have come back from extinction in my stomach and are roaring for food, I answered thanks and that I'll be right there once I unpack (Which might not be for another hour, seeing as I am the world champion of procrastination). He nodded, closed the door and I listened for his retreating footsteps down the spiral staircase.I eventually got around to unpacking my bulging suitcases that looked like they were going to explode after moaning and groaning for a good five minutes. They're mocking me, I'm sure of it. You won this time, suitcases.

I might have overpacked when I went to England, but that was because I didn't expect to be coming back so soon. I begrudgingly accepted my fate and took the mountain of things out of my multiple suitcases and put them away. I kicked off my flip flops and picked up my last bag, a beige makeup bag filled with a serious lack of makeup, and set it in the bathroom. The sink and toilet were all white ceramic but the walls and shower curtain were a light gray. The marble flooring felt cool under my bare feet. I glanced up at the silver-framed mirror. My rich brown hair cascaded down my shoulders in waves- a trait I got from my dad. My crystal blue-green eyes- a trait I got from my mom- peeked out from behind my curtain of hair.

I looked extremely tired. I don't usually wear makeup, not because I'm one of those "You don't need makeup to look beautiful, blah-blah" kinda person, I'm just honestly wayyy to lazy to spend 30 minutes of my morning putting on a full face of makeup. And it's not like I could put it on like some other girls who put on a full face everyday. My choices were to look slightly like a zombie or a caked clown.

But seeing as I look like a zombie-slash-crazed-murderer, I finally settled to just putting concealer around my eyes. Earlier I had decided that I would go out and see the town, and maybe go shopping. After all, I had been gone for a whole year. Besides, I always loved the beautiful downtown area. I grabbed my curler from off the kitchen sink and plugged it in. I clipped the top layers of my hair up and curled the lower layers. Once that was done, I unclipped my top layers and started on them. Once I was done, I leaned back and away from the mirror, checking to see if I missed any strands. Satisfied, I made my way downstairs and into the kitchen.