Let Me In!

Chapter 17

Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep.

I reach over to to my annoying alarm clock and  fall off my super comfy bed.

Kidding.

If I had an alarm clock, I'd actually get up on time. I've gotta save money to get one. Note it.

I roll over on the cold cement floor and wiggle out of my blanket.

Agghhh.

I walk to the living room to greet my dad.

"Morning da-"

There's silence in the living room. I go to the kitchen to see if he's left a note anywhere. Sure enough, there's one on the fridge that doesn't have any food.

Hey sweetheart. I've got an early shift today, I'll be home at 12 today. Be careful out there!
Love Dad.

It's everyday that I see his sloppy dad writing on the fridge.

I sigh, thinking about the last time dad and I have ever had one night where we just, talk.

I sigh and rub my grumbling stomach.

I walk over to an old rusty fridge and open it. Nothing.

Another day of no breakfast.

I didn't mind it, it's just, sometimes I wished we had something to eat. Eggs, bacon, toast. Anything really.

I lazily walk into the restroom and see Weston's clothes hung on a hanger.

I'll have to return that to him.

Dammit.

                               -----

Thank god it was Saturday.

Friday was my usual day off. For all my jobs.

Today I had a shift from 9am-2pm at the mall.

I go to my, I mean our, room and pick out my clothes.

I really just have 2 shirts, 3 pairs of jeans, and 1 jacket.

I pick out my dad's jacket (which I wear a lot), a stained white shirt, and some ripped jeans. Not the purposely ripped jeans, it was an accident when I rolled off a flight of stairs.

I still cringe at the memory.

I get dressed and grab my keys and wallet full of coupons and my bus pass off the shelf that we found outside this house.

I check my wallet for some money. I don't know, maybe a leprechaun slipped some money in.

Nope.

Nothing.

I close all the lights and do a last check in the mirror. My light brown hair is long and wavy. My dark eye bags are hanging low on my face. I've never been the prettiest, so when I see models, I can't help but be jealous.

I shake my head out of my thoughts and walk out the door.

I freeze at my door and see that someone's super nice car was parked outside our old house.

Who?

"Hey there," a voice greets.

A voice I recognize too well.