VEUX

Twelve

"My life is a stere—o," Saoirse hummed along lightly to the crackling radio. "Kind of cheaply made though."

The static was a sound Saoirse knew well when driving her beaten up Buick. She knew the sound from her childhood when the traffic got her family stuck under the bridges in the city, and the radio would cut out and be replaced with some horrendous white noise. Yet as she'd driven her little gold car for the past year, she'd gotten used to the constant crackling. No matter how many buttons she pressed or dials she fidgeted with, the radio was stuck with half music, half emptiness. She bet if she'd had one of her brothers around, they could fix it in a heart beat.

"How bad does it show whatever happened to my friends," Saoirse revved the engine up the good old hill that was slowly adding to the deterioration of the Buick. Curse the crazies for sending her to the city school as they lived in Tim Buck To. "Whatever happened to the likes of all of them..."

It was dark when she parked on the dirt lot, which meant she was in trouble. she hadn't meant to be out this late, but time had slipped away from her. In a hurry, Saoirse grabbed her school bag and dashed up the rickety old steps into the house. As soon as she'd done that, the police officer of the house grabbed her ear and sent her hurdling over in pain. She didn't go lightly, why would she? The house-coordinater hated Saoirse's guts.

"What have I told you time and time again, Saoirse?" Her voice came out like she smoked a pack of cigarettes an hour. Constantly in the kitchen, Saoirse would catch her yaking up her flem whilst cooking.

Saoirse's ear was burning hot now at her pinch, no amount of endorphins could numb her nails practically slicing through the cartilage. "Be home before dawn, I know Miss. I'm sorry, I was in—"

"Save it!" She snarled, like a wolf in Saoirse's ear. "I don't care. But you should. Them little runts of yours get no dinner tonight because of you."

When she let go of Saoirse's flaming ear, a wicked grin was plastered over he thin, cracked lips. The second she let go of Saoirse, she skedaddled as fast as she could down the hall. That evil woman only let Saoirse's family eat once a day, so when she screwed up, she knew how to make sure Saoirse know she had fucked up.

Finally reaching the wooden cupboard like door in the wall, Saoirse sunk to her knees and bent through the hobbit sized frame. Once inside the rickety and wooden scape, she sealed the door shut again. Inside of her 'room' she could sit normally without her head touching the ceiling, just not stand. The ceiling was on a slant due to the angles of the old house, and therefore her room was instantly cut into half a room. If you could even call it that.

Two naked mattresses sat opposite from each other in the room, only thin sheets and old flowered duvets to cover the stains over their cotton. Saoirse's bed only held one flat pillow, like a layer of cement, and though the other bed had the same, it was graced with two. The only flat upright wall of the room was along the headrests of the two beds, and it bore one shelf with a single drawer dresser beneath it. In the tallest corner of the room stood a coat rack, currently stacked with pretty much every article of clothing she owned. The night stand was too small to serve as a dresser, and so she saved it for something much more important. The burning lantern above the shelf wavered at her force against the door, stilling only when the waves of motion quit echoing through the walls.