*NOT EDITED*
Waking up at 4:30, I yawn and stretch my cold limbs out and rub my Cupid's bow, and find flakiness; to then attempt to sniff my stuffy nose. Great I am coming down with a cold. Honestly I love feeling like shit!
Writing down the last answer to my Chem homework, I slowly put it away as it is only 5:13 in the morning. I throw on some old light beige - brown if you want - slippers that used to be light purple so I don't have to walk across my cold hardwood floor. Feeling goosebumps rise on my pale skin, I creep outside my bedroom door to check if the man, and my mother are still here. Bending my aching muscles as I slowly but surely go down the stairs, as to not wake anyone up if they are sleeping.
Not because I want to be polite; because I know what it's like to wake somebody up who still has drugs running through their veins and has a massive hangover. I just turned 11 when I accidentally woke my mom up in the late afternoon during summer. I just got back from my new friend Shawn's house, and my father was gone to work. I came running in expecting my mom to be awake and cooking lunch, but instead found her on the couch; eyes closed, mouth open, arm hanging off the edge. I was confused as it was almost 2:30. I looked at the coffee table and found two white pills and a glass of water with a note beside it saying: "Here. Gone to work. -James". Thinking mommy was sick and had to take her grown-up medicine I tried to wake her up to remind her. Shaking her I spoke gently, taking into consideration that her head might hurt. "Mommy, wake up you have to take you medicine." she groaned and started to move around. Eventually she opened her eyes and I was the first thing she saw. She started to grumble and mumble some things, so I asked her what she said, "Mommy wha-"... I didn't know if the red mark on my cheek was from me blushing or her hard back hand. I hated whenever I felt like crying I blushed. Or just felt like crying. I didn't like being upset or worse my mom causing it.
You know that feeling that you get when someone says, or does something that upsets you? That feeling of your cheeks tingling, and heating up. Like little stab wounds of what they did to hurt you, reminding you of it inside-out by the second. You know the way you pull your quivering bottom lip between you teeth, so they don't see it. The way you blink multiple times, just so none of your salty tears come streaming down your face, because if you let one lonely tear fall, it won't be lonely for long. The way you swallow to try to get the lump in your throat down so you can speak again, and your voice doesn't crack like you heart did. The way you put your shaking hands together between your thighs, because your out of luck when they notice then ask you what's wrong and you haven't quite swallowed that lump yet just to tell them 'I'm just cold' with a little laugh.
I looked at her once again sleeping body, horrified with the fact that my own mother hit me. Tears streaming down my face for reasons of physical hurt and emotional hurt, I walk out the house and sit on my cracked concrete steps.
Peeking into the living room from the bottom of the wood step, I conclude that they are not here. Worried thoughts start to swim in my head surrounding my mom and her whereabouts. I brush my worries to the side as I walk into the kitchen with the intent of writing down what I need for groceries. I thank god that I am getting my checks today and I can pay the rent, electricity, gas, and water, it really is a wonder on how I can get groceries. Although I get paid very generously working valet service at a very expensive county club, the tips are especially great, since it is mostly wealthy people coming there. All I have to do is crack a joke and batt my lashes. Men. Rich men. Old rich men. Sighing I think about this one man I don't mind. He is very sweet and very generous, his name is Greg, but he told me to call him G. I just smiled and said okay, but when he walked into the club entrance I started laughing uncontrollably. Speaking of him, I will see him today. He comes every Sunday morning to play some golf, 'It's like my cigarette before church' he said to me once.
In my bathroom, only in my panties I search for a song to shower to on YouTube, once I find a soothing song I take my panties off then hop in the shower. After singing in the shower and deep thinking, I choose to put on a black long-sleeve turtleneck sweater and black dress pants the club provided me with. I put my hair in a French-braid and left out the door at 6:30.
YOU ARE READING
We Got That Honeymoon Love
General Fiction'What word would you describe yourself with?' That question has always left me silent. What word would I use to describe myself? It wouldn't be something I could say out loud and expect my friends not to pry. Empty. That's what I would use to descri...
