Luminescent

Chapter 2

I shot up, once again. This time, however, I was in my bed at home. I groaned as I threw the covers back over my messy head. I could see why the light in my dreams kept giving me a pounding headache. My brain felt like it could explode from my ears at any second.

Pushing past the annoyance, I shifted my body, so that my feet hit the cold floor. I was a bit of a neat freak. My floor never has a single blemish. Even my laundry was always placed into the hamper. I knew this was not typical behavior for a teenager.

But I am not a typical teenager

The thought of it made my blood boil. Normal teenagers don't have to take care of their moms. Normal teenagers don't have to pay the rent. Normal teenagers don't have half as many responsibilities as I do.

I should be out at parties and pep rallies. It is my senior year, after all.

I sighed, knowing my complaints wouldn't change my situation. It was the weekend and I was going to do what I did every weekend. Work.

When I am eighteen I can move out. Just one more year and I don't have to worry about her. I could even go to college.

I stretched my arms out to relieve the sleep tension from my muscles. With a yawn, I looked over at my alarm clock. I didn't have to work until...

"I'm going to be late!" I realized. I jumped over to my closet and put on the ratty work shirt and my scuffed jeans. Money had been tight since my father died in the military. Mom had stopped working altogether, and any money we received from his death was spent on her cigarettes and booze. I thought about dad a lot. I missed him. I missed my mom. The woman in the other room is not the same one who birthed me. She's a monster.

I pushed my thoughts back and took a deep breath to not think about my father. I pulled on my shoes and headed towards the front door. As soon as I left my bedroom doorway, I was hit with the intense smell of smoke. Mother didn't seem to care about the smell of smoke invading our home. Why would she? She was the source. I looked over from the hallway to see her slumped onto the old brown couch. On her nightstand sat an empty six-pack of beers and the floor around her was just as messy. Older newspapers, food, and beer bottles were all strewn about the floor. No matter how many times I cleaned after her, it always ended up the same way by morning.

"Bye, mom," I called as I held the screen door open. I looked back over my shoulder as she made no attempt to look away from the TV, "Not that you care." I grumbled. I took the last few steps off the porch and let the door fall shut. The fresh spring air hit my nostrils. It was a vast difference to the stifling smoke in the house. I breathed it in gratefully and jumped on my bike. I worked about two miles away. I did the calculations in my head and I would make it there about ten minutes late if I pedal fast. I prepped my foot and took off with a thrust. I headed down the dusty dirt road.

I liked my job. My boss was kind of rude, but then again, everyone was rude to me. I wasn't mean, or bad looking. It felt like the world was always against me.

I would much rather be at work than school.

School was always rough. I loved learning, but I hated people. They were always so judgmental. Constant comments on my clothing or my apparent lack of hygiene. I couldn't help it that my mother's habits left a stench on my clothing. After a few minutes, I made it to my job: The Happy Troll. It was a bar and casino that was popular among the locals. I wasn't eighteen yet, so I legally couldn't work there. That also meant I was perfect for my boss. If I couldn't work there legally, then he didn't have to pay me legally either. I made what he wanted to pay me. If he was drunk that usually meant I would get an extra bonus, so I was okay with it. He would probably fire me the second I turn eighteen.

That's okay. I won't be here long after that.

I locked my bike up against the rack outside and made my way to the door. I opened the door and was hit with the familiar scent of booze and cigarettes once again. At least my boss never let anyone smoke inside. The smell was from the ashtray just to my right. I grimaced at the sand. Stepping inside I walked over behind the bar. I made sure to write down the time on my sign-in sheet. I was about to go around with my tray to start cleaning up the glasses and mess the bar-goers had created when I felt breath on my neck. I spun around to see my giant boss standing over me.

"You're late," he said in a gruff voice, "Don't expect to be paid for this first hour. You cut my time, I cut you." With that, he turned and walked into the back where his office was. I sighed.

What a perfect way to start my shift.

I made sure to be on my best behavior for the remainder of the night. I forgot to take some pain medicine for my splitting headache before leaving the house.

If I had woken up to my alarm it wouldn't be a problem.

I scolded myself mentally. Maybe I deserved it? I had no one to blame but myself. I went about my day cleaning up. I was all too aware of my head and my stomach. My head pounded with each step and the loud music agitated it even more. My stomach growled and demanded to have some sustenance. I would have to wait another hour before I could take a break.

As time went on, the pain kept on getting worse. I held my stomach as I tried to keep a smile on my face. No one wants to go to a bar with a grumpy attendant. I couldn't take it anymore. I dropped my tray down on the counter and rushed to the bathroom. I had just slammed the door when nausea made my knees buckle. I reached up and grabbed ahold of the sink. I lifted myself up with what little strength I had and looked at myself in the mirror.

What is happening?

I looked back at the pain engulfing my eyes. Their brown colors seem to turn black with the feeling. My face was pale as a ghost. I knew I should eat, but I couldn't move my body. My thick brown locks fell onto my face as I doubled over. I couldn't do anything to stop them. I let out a gasp as my stomach kicked back at me. I fell to the floor and curled into a fetal position.

I have to get back out there.

I took several deep breaths. My throat let out a whimper as I flipped over onto my knees. I used my hand to clumsily reach for the porcelain sink again. I pulled myself up with a grunt. The pain felt like it was slowly fading. I opened the door and tried to act normal. The pain twisted my face into a horrific sight. Suddenly, I couldn't breathe. My mouth opened to suck in air, but it would not come. I could eat after I got some fresh air. I stumbled over to the door. I was only able to get small amounts of air into my lungs as I walked. All of the people and noise swirled around me in a blur. I made it to the doors and practically jumped outside to escape. I still couldn't breathe. I walked over to the nearest car to try and ask for help. I repeatedly sucked in breath after breath to try and satisfy my lungs. Turning away from the car I looked back to the once vibrant bar to seek help there.

Surely someone has seen me suffocating.

There was no one there. The bar was covered in ivy and vines. Greenery had broken through the glass windows. The doors had a thick metal chain wrapped around them with a solid lock. The building looked as if it had aged hundreds of years in a second. My heart was slowing as my throat would not allow any air in. I felt my head get heavy and soon I was on the ground. A sharp pain hit my neck. I heard a voice cry out in the distance.

Was that me? What is going on? Someone, please help me.

As endless thoughts ran through my mind, I felt my vision slipping away from me. My peripheral was turning black and it was creeping to the center of my eyes. I could only see the smallest amount of light in my fading world. Then, a face appeared, and my vision went dark.

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