A/N: Hello, hello, my lovely, lovelies!
Like I promised, this is Chapter five - the longest chapter I have yet to write and Jesus was it tiring. I'm sorry if it seems strained - I'm likely to go over it on future dates to revise it - but I hope the length makes up for it. A lot of stuff happens, and many of you will better understand what's wrong with Willow, or come to realize that there is something wrong with her fundamentally.
As always, thank you for reading!
I wake to sunlight pouring into my window. The sun is almost blindingly bright, of that I can see through the tangled mat of hair haloed around my face. The light is too bright for early in the day, so I gather that I must have slept through the morning and probably some of the afternoon. I can't remember when I had ever preformed such a feat.
Somewhere during the night, I had tangled my legs within the quilt. I try to ease my lower body out of its blanketed captors, but give up and flop on my stomach in laziness. I stare at my window, enjoying the morning (afternoon?) lighting. Waking up before and after the sun is present during the day, I normally don't pay the window that much attention, and as I'm starring at it, a sudden streak of white and black hit the glass. Bird shit. What a wonderful way to start the day.
I sit up on the back on my calves, starring at the headboard when I realize just how sticky I am from sweating during the night previous. My hair sticks to my neck from the natural adhesive, though it stands vertically on the top layer. When I try to smooth it down, it reforms back into its original shape. I probably look like I have a lion's mane. With a sudden and almost painfully loud roar from my stomach, I finally have motivation to remove myself from the bed and actually be productive.
Once I pull my hair into a band, I go downstairs to look for food when the overwhelming scent of lemon cleaning solution overcomes by nose. My eyes start to water from its pungency. At the foot of the stairs, I turn to look through the living room to the kitchen and see - counters. I rub my eyes to make sure that its not just a fabrication of my tears. Normally covered with plates, cooking books, or literally anything else, today the ugly green counters are absolutely and delightfully clean. There is surely a god who can perform such miracles.
I walk off the last stair and towards the kitchen. Tom is sitting in the living room on a magnificently clean recliner, chewing on some tobacco and spitting it into a Coke can. He turns his head from the television to give me a grimace.
Caroline, dressed in a nice green dress that is ill-fitting with her hair, is scrubbing dishes at the sink, curses spewing unfalteringly from her mouth. She turns around upon my arrival with a curled lip, then goes back to scrubbing and cursing. I go to the lead-lined blue refrigerator to find something edible. All that I find are few tomatoes, a block of cheese on a platter, and a half drunk gallon of milk. I don't take anything.
I slowly turn towards her large figure. "Was there any meatloaf leftover?" I ask as politely as I can muster.
She stops her scrubbing abruptly and turns her head towards me with a scowl on her face. "So, now you wan' my damned meatloaf? Wha', can you only ea' my food on Mondays now? And no, there isn' any left. I don' cater to your needs." She returns to her dishes. "Jesus, Lordy, help me," I hear her pray.
I roll my eyes and turn behind me to look inside the pantry. There's not much more food in there, either, besides old Campbell's soups, a batch of onions, and stale cereals. I grab a mushroom soup with a grimace then go to pour it into a bowl to microwave.
YOU ARE READING
Black Eyed (Original)
Paranormal[1st draft of the Black Eyed series. Permanently retired] Willow's life has never been the personification of 'normal,' and recent events just seem to keep proving that. She's never had loving parents or a friend to talk to, but when a new family...
