The Dream

Chapter 6

The smell of burning bacon fills my nose as I wake up to the dim light flowing through the small basement window right above the couch. I sit up and yawn, stretching out all of my muscles. I flop out of bed, slip on my fuzzy cat slippers and start to head upstairs when I remember about Trent. I quickly glance back to the extra bed but the bed is empty. I rush upstairs and grab my sweater on my way up.

When I make it to the kitchen, I see Trent making bacon and flipping pancakes. The bacon smells burnt and the pancakes look soggy.

"Have you ever cooked before?" I ask him jokingly.

"This may or may not be my first time preparing a meal," he says eyeing me with a wink and a cute smirk.

I laugh as I drop down onto one of the chairs by the kitchen table. I watch him as he finishes flipping pancakes. His hair flops in every direction when he moves, his back is so muscular. What am I thinking? I am such a creep!

He drops the plate of bacon and pancakes onto the wooden kitchen table as he slides over to the fridge and grabs a couple bottles of orange juice.

"Here you are, my lady," he says as he hands me a bottle.

"Why, thank you very much," I say, mocking a British accent.

Once I finish eating the crisp black bacon, I let out a sigh and look at his beautiful face.

"So, will you give me an explanation, or will you just never tell me," I say.

"Later. Right now, let's enjoy our day together," he replies.

Once we finish devouring our chocolate chip pancakes, I wash off the dishes as he loads them in to the dishwasher. Once I am finished clearing the dishes, I glance over to check his work. There are dishes hanging perfectly on their spots, and cups right where they need to be. I am really OCD about these kinds of things.

"Wow, you met the expectations of my OCD mind," I say with a laugh.

He smirks at me as he says, "Well, I'm sure our OCD minds will get along just fine, then."

He grabs my hand and pulls me out to the backyard. It had rained last night and the air is muggy, the grass is soaking, and the mud is soggy. It sticks to my feet like a sponge while Trent pulls me along. He leads me over to the blue and white swingset that my parents bought with the house.

He releases his grip on my hand as he swoops over to the swings. I run along as I sit beside him. We swing until the swingset almost tips over. I let out a scream and a little laugh as we settle down.

"So, will you please explain now?" I plead.

A look of sadness washes over his face as he stares at the small, blooming petunia flowers on my back porch.

"I, my dad, he, isn't the nicest guy you will ever meet. He drinks and smokes way more than his body can handle, and he is usually in the hospital. He got back a couple of days ago, and since he can't drink anymore, he has been very very irritable. And the thing is, that he let's out his anger on me," he says.

"And my mom, well, she left my father and I when I was very young. That's what started most of my dads over excessive drinking and smoking habits. I myself have been battling depression and anxiety for quite a while now. And with no friends to talk to, and no medicine to take, I am just a waste of space. I can sit for hours on end in the basement just staring. Wishing, for another life, another family," he says.

He looks over to see my response. My face is covered in tears and my cheeks are probably flushed and burning red. I tell him to finish his story.

"Well, yesterday, he got mad at me for skipping school because I was too depressed to even get out of bed. He hit me, punched me, kicked me, and I told him that I had enough. I said I wished mom would have taken me with her. That's when he pulled a pistol out of his pocket and put it to my head, his fingers resting on the trigger. After that, I ran. I just kept running. That's when I remembered I had your number. You're pretty much all I have left now. If anything."

He glances over at me. I instantly start bawling and cover my face with my hands. I never would've guessed this boy had gone through so much.

He jumps out of his swing and pulls me to my feet. He wraps me in his arms and holds me tight. I can feel his heart beat in my chest. He pulls me away just enough so that he can see my face. He looks me in the eyes.

There are tears trickling down his face.

"Don't cry. Its ok. Don't cry," he says in a calm and reassuring tone.

He picks me up in his arms, cradling me like a baby. He smiles at me and starts to tickle my belly. I jolt out, my stomach is really ticklish, and burst into laughter. He continues to tickle me as he carries me inside. Once we reach the living room, he gently lays me on the sofa and wraps a blue fleece blanket around my shivering body. He searches for the remote and clicks through the channels until he gets to MTV.

"You like this show?" he asks.

"Yup," I reply with a sniffle.

He crawls over to where I lie and wipes two tears off my cheeks with his thumbs. He looks into my eyes a few second before he climbs on the couch behind me and lays with me.

I couldnt have asked for a better morning.