After rolling out of bed, I cleaned myself while Cole is in the bathroom, either taking a shower, or brushing her teeth.
The sunlight brightens the room as I quietly smooth the wrinkles off of her pillows, folded the blanket, and adjusted the bedsheets.
Other than the wooden floor, almost everything is blue: blue walls, blue bedcovers, and blue curtains.
The room consisted two dark brown bookshelves, a purple double door closet, a drawers, and a desk covered in sheets of old homework.
Next to the table legs is a dark purple bulky backpack.
As soon as Cole walked out of the bathroom, she ask if she could make me breakfast.
"Do you want chocolate chip pancakes or blueberry?"
"Blueberry," I answered.
"Do you want me to help?"
Cole shakes her head no as I stretch my arms.
"Let me do something nice for my boyfriend," she insisted.
I pouted as she wraps her arms around my neck.
"Well, let me do something nice for my girlfriend." I pleaded.
To me, it feels wrong to let Cole do everything.
"I'm not a damsel in distress," she replied, kissing my lips.
"You can use my bathroom."
While Cole leaves her bedroom again, I went over to the bathroom, where a spare red toothbrush sat next to the minty toothpaste tube, and a brand-new styrofoam cup filled with water.
On the mirror is a yellow sticky note, scribbled in Cole's handwriting.
"Mint makes bad breath away," I read under my breath.
She is such a Mom sometimes.
Nevertheless, I squeezed the green paste onto the toothbrush and continued brushing my teeth, until blood appeared on the bristles.
After I rinsed and spit into the metal sink bowl, I cleaned out my brush, dried the white marble sink counter, and head downstairs to see Cole cooking breakfast.
The frying pan handle clenched in her grasp, as Cole flips a light brown pancake, embedded in blueberry pieces.
On her left are two plates of bananas, scrambled eggs, and strips of mouthwatering bacon.
She slid the cooked pancake on the first plate and pushed it towards me.
"Here you go," Cole beamed.
I thanked her politely then took my plate over to the dining table.
Her house is gigantic compared to mine: the kitchen included a shiny silver refrigerator, a granite kitchen sink counter, and a closet full of unfrozen food.
The kitchen walls are slicked in gray paint, whereas the living room walls are light blue. It had a flat screen television, comfortable living room black couches, and glass furniture.
After Cole is finished making her own breakfast, she sits right next to me and ate quietly.
As I bit into my fruit, she notice something dark purple across my arms.
"Ben," she began sternly. "Are you still cutting yourself?"
I shook my head no, then scratched the bruise vigorously.
It came from my neglective foster father, all because I refused to go to the store, in the middle of the night, to get his pack of stupid cigarettes.
YOU ARE READING
Trapped In The Rabbit Hole
Mystery / ThrillerAfter solving another case, Cole's mother decides to celebrate by inviting her female classmates over for a slumber party, much to her daughter's embarrassment. Meanwhile, Ben and Seth investigates the murder of an eight year old boy who is found s...
