Inconspicuously Obvious

Chapter 7

Peeking at the time from beneath my eyelids I see the clocks light fill a small part of my room.

04:43

Awkwardly I raise from the uncomfortable spot. Realisation hits me as I notice my untouched bed, I fell asleep on the floor. Rubbing my sore neck, I rise from the floor; ignoring the agonizing pain flaring through my body from the painful position I slept in.  My bones creak as I greet the early morning atmosphere with outstretched arms. My fingers caressing the air, my mouth hung unattractively open catching flies. My rugged knuckles attempt to dust the invisible sleep from of my eyes, failing miserably

Gradually I reach my bathroom after almost stumbling over the many boxes which swarm my plain room. I swiftly brush my teeth and hair before I step into the legs of my tattered grey jogging bottoms and throw on a comfortable oversized t-shirt. The scent of Jace momentarily surprises my nostrils, but they recover swiftly as I slide out of my room, preparing myself for the substantial amount of clutter waiting for me.

As expected piles of dishes await upon a filthy counter top, surrounded by piles of wrappers and unwanted food that had clearly been place there on purpose just to teach me a lesson. Scattering the floor is pieces of unwanted food from god knows when, and other unidentifiable things which I fear to clean up.

I dive straight in to tackle this catastrophe of a kitchen. Beginning with the stack of dirty dishes which practically beg for me to free them from the filth that clings on. Next, I scrub the counters bare of any traces of bacteria; even the unharmful ones. Grabbing the broom, I begin to sweep the floor clean of every speck of unwanted waste making the room begin to look acceptable, but still it is far from immaculate. Happy that the kitchen looks fine I move on to my next task. Breakfast. I decide to make father's favourite, sausage, and egg roll, hoping that it might get me in his good books.

Terrifying things can happen when you get on his bad side. I would know.

I shiver from the thoughts and memories which explode in my mind, I distract myself from the destruction and proceed with the task at hand.

Silently my parents enter the kitchen, tension rockets through the room the moment my father's sets foot in the room. Unwillingly my body stiffens protectively, fear brews inside of me as it slowly seeps into the tense atmosphere. Not a word is said, creating a deafening silence, the quite escalates from tolerable to unbearable. I regain my composer and assemble the food, attempting to construct it hastily without messing up. Soundlessly, I place the plates in front my parents before I try to escape the suffocating atmosphere only to be stopped by the firm grip on my wrist.

"Where do you think you are going?" 

"To college." My voice comes out fragile and shaky. The fear evident in my voice.

"I don't think so."

What? One thing we agreed on was my education. He will not take this away from me.

"Why not?" I answered, this time my voice sounds more confident, even though underneath I am far from it.

"Because you have work here."

"B-but-"

"Don't you but me," now he's shouting, "You have a job to do! The house is a pigsty, your slacking, you will not return to school until this house looks acceptable."

"Please." I begged, even though I knew it was no use. He slammed his fist onto the table, making the whole house quiver slightly from the impact, his grip on my wrist tightened. Narrowing his eyes which now held the flicker of uncontainable rage. Knowing if I angered him any further he will lash out, so I press my lips in a straight line; trapping the words which dance on the tip of my tongue.

"It's final! You, Isabel Medina Reyes, will obey my commands. You are on lock down until this house looks acceptable. Understood?!" He spits, the fire in his voice palpable, forcing me to cower away from the flames deepening within his eyes.

"Yes father."

The previously prominent fire dies down, returning to a flicker of hatred. Grunting he turns his back on me, freeing my wrist from his tough grip. Without hesitation, I dart out of the kitchen, scramble up the stairs and into my room, collapsing to my floor the second I am shielded from the man who roams my nightmares.

Sometimes even my dreams.