My Sweateeeeeeeeer!

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by puddlesilver

by puddlesilver

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

I woke to the sound of my alarm clock. My mind was fuzzy, only registering the steady staticy beeping. I stumbled out of bed to turn it off. It was on the opposite side of the room. I kept it there so that I would have to get up. After that was out of the way, I stretched. I almost walked back to bed until I remembered Jacob. A bolt of adrenaline shot across my body. I need to check on him. What if he wakes up early? What if he falls down the stares? What if he has a melt down? AAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!! I gotta go check on him! I through off my night shirt, and got dressed. I slid on a pair of jeans, and a black tank top. then I put on my grey sweater. I loved that sweater. My clothes hung loosely on my thin frame. I slid on my slippers, and tied my long brown hair into a pony tail as I tiptoed down the hall, and up the stares.

The morning was quiet. It always was at this hour, I got up earlier than everyone else. The boards on the stares creaked and squeaked. There was a draft somewhere, and I was glad for my sweater. Although, I liked the cold. It was refreshing, and for some reason, I could tolerate it better than most people. No, I mean I can walk Two miles through an ice storm in a hoodie, and come back slightly flushed... And I liked the way the cold bit through my sweater.

I tapped quietly up to the room marked 303. Thunk, thunk, thunk. I knocked softly on the door. No answer. I waited. No answer. I slowly turned to door knob. Opening the door, and breathed a sigh of relief. He. Was still. Asleep. I closed the door. What now? I turned to weigh my options. I could leave, but what if Jacob wakes up while I'm gone, and something bad happens? I could stay here, but when he does wake up, he'll think I'm some sort of creep. I reassured myself that he was blind, and probably wouldn't get out of bed, let alone come out and find me hanging around his door.

I stood by the door, back pressed to the wall. I felt for the locket at my chest, but didn't find it. must've left it in the rush. The image of my mother danced in my mind. Who was the other person in the photo. My mind turned it over a few times. The man in the photo was taller than my mother. The thought of my mom brought back the image of the charred house, and the scattered belongings around it. the windows where smoke stained if not broken, and in the few remaining windows were crosses in white spray paint. The air stank of chemicals and smoke.

I was walking around the corner of the block, holding two ice creams. One was half eaten, and the other was for my mom. I spotted the police cars and fire trucks, and my stomach lurched. My heart started pounding. I ran to the house to find it a disaster. widows smashed and burnt, smoke rising from the walls, and the chemical smell suffocating. I almost walked passed it thinking it wasn't my house. But if that were the case, where was my house? I walked up to a police officer, and bombarded him with questions. where is my mom? What happened? Why is the house burning? is my mother okay? The worry and the smoke where making my eyes watery. They stung.

My eyes burned. My gut was heavy. My head pounded. I tried to shove the image from my mind. It hurt. It felt like a part of me, and some part of my mind didn't want to let it go. A tear streaked down my cheek. I brushed my hand across my face. The tears felt warm, and didn't cool down. I looked at my hand. The water from my eyes shone in the dark hall. crap. I sped down the hall into the woman's restroom to use the mirror. My eyes were red and puffy. The tears brimming in them were white and glittered softly. My eyes glittered on the brink of changing color. I took a deep breath, pushing it down as best I could. The shimmer died. I wiped my eyes on my sleeve, took another breath, and walked out.

I slipped to Jacob's door again, just in time to hear- clonk! I hesitated a few seconds, then knocked on the door. There was a pause, and then "Hel-lo?" "You alright in there?" I asked. "Um. uh. n-no." he answered. "can I come in?" "um... yea."