Just Another Generation

Ch 6

ANGIE's POV:

I stared up at the ceiling and blinked. I looked around at the walls and everything around the room.

I couldn't sleep. I tried for the first half hour of being up here but it was one in the morning and I was still awake, scared to fall into another dream that would give me an even bigger bruise.

I couldn't risk waking up to rush downstairs to show my mom a black eye that I didn't have yesterday.

I raised my hand and picked at my fingernails.

For the past five hours I've been doing the same thing over and over.

I doze off, then I quickly jolt awake before I end up anywhere. Then I stare at the ceiling for a while until I get bored, pick or gnaw on my nails, then go on my phone to Twitter to do something to try to stay awake.

And the cycle repeats itself.

I picked up my phone from it's designated place beside my pillow and I hopped onto Twitter.

Clicking the little ink feather symbol in the top right corner of the app, I found my eyes slowly closing.

I jolted awake as my phone came crashing on my face.

I take it and place it back in it's spot. Guess Twitter still isn't working for me.

I stared back up at the ceiling, then at the walls around me.

Covering my face with my hands, I rubbed my tiredness from my eyes and groaned.

I sat up in bed and turned so my feet grazed the floor.

I hopped off my bed and that's when my sleepy mind gave in.

Pressing my hand to my head, I swayed to the right and I hit the floor with a thud and a desperation to let sleep win this war I was fighting with it.

~~~~~~~~~~~

I awoke in a bed, not my bed. In fact, bed isn't the right term for what I woke up in. It was more like a torn-up mattress that lay in a messy room full of old clothes and dust bunnies.

Sniffing the air, I finally began to accept that I had fallen asleep and that I was now in my father's world instead of my own.

I sat up on the mattress and carefully stood. I tip-toed across the creaky wood floor and stopped behind the cracked-open door of this familiar room.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, I opened the door a tad more so that my tiny body could fit through the crack.

I flexed through the small doorway and found myself in the hallway leading to my parent's old master bedroom.

I heard a loud obnoxious yell coming from downstairs.

Again, I tip-toed towards and down the stairs.

The yelling was more clear now.

And it wasn't just my dad yelling.

"Why can't you just get yourself together, Austin?!"

Aunt Trish!

"Because, I am a hopeless drunkie! You've said so yourself!"

"Well, you could get better if you tried to get better!"

My dad laughed maniacally. "I don't think that's what hopeless means."

Trish groaned. "Listen up, Dofus! I keep checking on you because your wife and your kids are worried about you! Angela has been dreaming about you, she sees you and she knows how bad you're doing! Wouldn't you like to show her that you're doing better?"

"But hopeless means--"

"I know what it means! I know what I said! But I was wrong! A week ago, you wouldn't talk to me! Two weeks ago, you'd even slap me every time I walked through this cursed door! Now, look at you! You haven't changed much, but you've changed!"

I had to get closer! I need to see them.

"There's hope now. I don't know what's happened the last few days, but whatever you're doing, keep doing it!"

I took one step down the stairs and though I could now see them, a loud creak burst through the house.

Trish didn't seem to notice. But my dad was alert! He turned towards me and his eyes met mine!

He picked up his hand and pointed straight at me. "That's what been happening! Her!"

Trish looked confused. "What the hell are you talking about?!"

My dad's gaze never left mine. "She says she's my daughter! Is that true?"

Trish hesitated. "I don't--"

"Is she my daughter?!"

Trish gulped. "I can't see her, Austin. But I don't doubt it."

My dad turned to look at her again. "Get out," he said quietly.

"Excuse me?"

"I said get out!! This is my house and I need you to get out!!"

Trish backed away from my father and taking hold of the doorknob without looking, she ran out the door, shutting it behind her.

My father looked to me. "Are you my guardian angel," he asked me. "Or are you really my daughter?"

"You could say I'm both."

He walked up to me. "I'm about to die," he said so surely. "I can feel it in my veins. Any day now, I could crash. And no one would care."

"I would," I said positively.

My dad took my hand. "Can I ask you something?"

~~~~~~~~~

"Angela, are you okay?"

I couldn't exactly process what was going on but I just woke up from the best dream in a while and someone was helping me up off the ground.

"What-what happened," I asked.

"You fell off your bed is what I assume."

I blinked back my tiredness and a clear vision of the other Angie holding my arm, pulling me up, came into view.

She carefully brought me to my feet and when my legs couldn't support me, she sat me down on my bed.

"What time is it?"

She looked at the watch on her wrist. "Ten Thirty. You overslept. Your mom said you can stay home from school today, as long as I supervise."

I yawned. "Man, why am I in so much pain?"

She sighed. "I don't know. You're mom didn't tell me cuz you wouldn't tell her."

Angie studied my face. "She was right. You really are bruised up!"

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks for pointing that out."

She laughed. "Oh, don't worry! It's nothing a little concealer won't fix.