The Ferris Wheel [hiatus]

|Found You Back|

 ❝Someday, I hope I find the kind of happiness I'm looking for.❞

|Found You Back|

Ace

            The sounds of successive drums and electric guitar woke me up, and I slammed the square thing where the annoying music was coming from.

            Hearing a crack, I slowly picked my head and show the dead body of my clock, laying on the floor, its battery rolling away.

            Darn, it's the fifth one, I thought, and grunted.

            “Ace, wake up!” yelled my mom from downstairs.

            “I am...” I said, but not loud enough for her to hear.

            “Breakfast is ready, Ace, come on! Stop gluing yourself from your bed!”

            I murmured indistinct words and rolled to my wall, keeping the blanket on me, while the stomping steps of my mom came up the stairs. Soon the door broke open, and I heard her hopeless sigh.

            “Ace! Wake. Up,” she said menacingly.

            “Why do I need to?!” I replied, opening fully my eyes and rolling to face her.

          “Or else you'll be a couch potato! Go out, and breathe a bit!” she begged.

            “Yeah, as if.”

~

        “Son, when will you bring me your wife?” asked suddenly my dad, while sipping his coffee.

        Almost choking in my milk, I forced out a cough and yelled, “What are you talking about, dad?!”

        “He's right, Ace,” affirmed my mom, and I bitterly thought; for you, he's always right.

        “You know I don't want one.”

            Because I still remember those light brown hair and magnificent turquoise eyes, I thought, gritting my teeth. I still thought about her, sometimes dreamed about her, and guessed what she was doing, thinking about her life with her boyfriend.

            “Ace, you're twenty years old, even our neighbor got a fiancée!” pleased my mom, washing the dish I handed to her.

            “I already said no.” I breathed, my eyes shooting daggers. I brushed away my crow colored hair, grabbed my dark purple sweater and pulled it over my white camisole.

           

            I turned the doorknob, and got hit by a cold breeze, reminding me I was alone, even thought my parents were still supporting me. Soon, they couldn't anymore, though, my mom was soon 50, and my dad, 57. I stared upstairs, where there were two rooms with closed doors. Two of my cousins, a boy and a girl who were twins, were living with us, but I rarely saw them out of their rooms or in our house. If I didn’t had them as substitute for my siblings, I would be an only child.