Mourning Star (Sequel to Unbroken)

Deep Within

(THE NEXT DAY)

“Boxers or briefs?” Bryan asked Uncle War and Uncle Ant.

“Boxers,” they said together, I giggled.

“Okay, ladies.  Thongs or bikinis?” Bryan asked with his eyebrow raised.

“Thongs,” Aunt Mee replied.

“Neither.  Boy shorts,” Mum replied. 

“What?” Bryan asked.

“You know, it’s like boxers for girls.  The girls that don’t like to have strings in their ass,” Mum said, poking Aunt Mee. 

I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“Watcha watchin?” Uncle Cee said as he came over and sat next to me.  He then started laughing.  “That has got to be the best one by far!” CC yelled as he pointed to my computer screen.  I was watching the last Bryan Starzz interview with Unbroken Outcasts.  In this one, Mum had her hair dyed strait black.

“Yup, but I don’t think any of them can beat the one with Mum, Uncle Andy, and Uncle Jayy,” I said.  Uncle Cee just nodded.  He got up and went somewhere.  I sighed and shut my laptop.

I walked back upstairs to the guest room that Dad and I were sharing.  I pulled out the dress I would be wearing tomorrow.  It wasn’t very fancy, just plain black and went down to about the middle of my calf.  There was a blood red rose on the side of the hip, though.

I set I ton the bed and reached around my neck.  I pulled the locket from under my shirt and opened it.  Aunt Mee had some more slots put in it.  I had a picture of Dad, a picture of Uncle Jayy and Uncle Dahvie, a picture of all of BVB, a picture of all of MIW, a picture of all of OM&M, a picture of all of PTV, a picture of Aunt Mee and Uncle Ash and their three kids, a picture of Mum and Ashley, a picture of Uncle War, Uncle Ant, and Snow, and then one empty slot. 

I looked at the picture of Mum and Ashley.  She looked so happy.  She had one arm wrapped around Ashley’s neck and Ashley was looking at her with the happiest smile on his face.  Mum looked like she was laughing.  Her hair had a blood red color at the tip of her bangs in this picture.  I felt tears start to come to my eyes. 

Everyone at school would ask why I didn’t have a mum.  I had to explain it so many times over the past eight years.  I actually went mute for a while, after the ten year anniversary of Mum’s death and my birthday.  It lasted about two years.  That was, until I met the only person I ever trusted besides my family.  Her name was Sydney, but everyone called her Syd.  One day she asked me why I didn’t speak, and I showed her my notebook, which had explanations for all kinds of questions I would be asked in it.  She didn’t just walk away like the others did though.  She would ask if I would hang out and we would just sit in a comfortable silence, her occasionally asking something, me writing down the answer.  Eventually I trusted her enough to talk.  Once I did, though, I instantly regretted it.  She stopped talking to me two weeks after I first spoke. 

I felt tears drip down my face.  I wiped them away and closed my locket.  I looked at the clock.  3:48.

I sighed and stood up.  I pulled on one of my ripped MIW shirts and ripped black skinny jeans.  I went to the connected bathroom and straitened my hair.  I applied a dark, heavy line of eyeliner around my eyes and put on some of my black lipstick. The only color on me that wasn’t black was the silver barbell in my eyebrow, Mum’s locket, the silver of my chain wallet, and my hair.

I walked out of the bedroom and accidently ran into someone.

“Sorry, Daddy,” I said as Dad helped me stand up.  I looked at him, my head slightly tilted down.  He was about two inches shorter than me right now because I was wearing my combat boots.