My Lord

Chapter five

"Fuck!" I scream as my alarm goes off. I wanted to sleep in today but no. I lift my head up and repeatedly hit it against the pillow over and over. I roll over onto my back and stretch out my arms so far that my body starts to shake.

I roll off of my bed and hit the floor with a loud thump. Shit, that really hurt. I attempt to drag myself up from the covers but they end up coming off onto of me. I turn over on all fours and push myself off the ground and throw my cover onto the bed. 

I go to Isha's room to wake her up only to be greeted by an empty bed. Great, she's probably out telling the cops how we kidnapped a child and sold drugs. I then make my way to Jasmines room. I softly pick her up so she doesn't wake and carry her to the elevator. 

When I walk into the kitchen Isha is at the stove cooking pancakes. I set Jasmine in a chair before waking her up.

"You would make a good mother." Isha states as she turns around to face us.

"No, I wouldn't," I reply out of reflex. I don't want children, ever; I have my car and they don't annoy the hell out of you.

"Mmhmm, " she gives me a look that indicates she thinks I'm lying. We finish eating our breakfast in silence. I wash the dishes while Isha and Jasmine watch TV. I join them when I'm done, and end up falling asleep. 

***

Isha wakes me up for lunch around one in the afternoon.

Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are sprawled out amongst the table; Jasmine is sitting in the place Mother usually sits stuffing a sandwich into her mouth. I take my usual spot and follow her actions. Isha joins us minutes later, and we start discussing our plans for today.

We decided not to make deliveries today because the child will be in our way. The only task we have is watching the creature and waiting until sundown. I have no clue what the outcome of the trade will be tonight; all I can do is pray that it will go smoothly.

I lie on the couch, toddler in the arm, watching the Kardashian's when Isha bust into the room.

"It's 8:30 pm and my phone says that the sun goes down at nine. Look! Look outside you can already see the pink rising from the grass. You need to get ready, now!" The animal in my hands starts to cry, and I shoot a nasty glare at Isha. God, I wonder what her problem is. She is already dressed in her black high heels, ripped skinny jeans, and a George Strait t-shirt. I hand her the toddler and rush upstairs.

I wander into my closet and come out with my knee high black heels, a pair of high waisted skinny jeans, and a tight, off-the-shoulder black shirt. It doesn't take me long to change, and I rush to the elevator. Through these last few days, I have gotten used to going up and down it. I hit the first-floor button and slowly float down, listening to one of my favorite songs.

Isha is standing at the door holding the child with an impatient look on her face.

"The child has to use the bathroom." Her voice has a hint of disgust in it as she speaks.

"Well, did you take her?"

"Eww, no. That's nasty."

"Well, I'm not taking her."

"Neither am I."

"Yes, you are."

"It was your genius plan to take her in the first place."

"You helped me take her."

"Yeah, because I wanted you to get your parents back."

"My house, my rules."

"It's your parent's house, so it's their rules."

"Fine, I'll take her, but you owe me."

"Fine."

"Fine."

After the mongrel is done using the bathroom, we load up in my car.

We sing along to every song that comes on the radio and Isha dances the best she can in the space she has.

"Your destination is on the right in 1.3 miles," my GPS says over the radio stopping one of Taylor Swift's old songs. We arrive at a cabin that is really well kept.

"Are we at the right place?" I ask in disbelief.

"I have no clue."

"I thought it would look more like the stereotype, creepy cabin in the woods with vines climbing up the walls and dead grass everywhere, place."

"Same."