HUNTER
BEVERLY HILLS, CA
I stepped out of the shower and wrapped my towel around my waist. After I was done brushing my teeth I made my way out of the bathroom. I jumped when I saw Elizabeth laying on my bed.
"Yo, what the fuck?"
She chuckles, "I didn't even scare you that bad."
I walk to my walk-in closet, "Bro get out of my room."
That's the problem with being one of the only boys with all sisters. They all come into your room just to bother you and ask for shit.
"This is cute," She semi yells.
I furrow my brows. What the hell is she talking about? I turn around and see that she's holding up the picture my mom framed for me of me and Asiya in seventh grade.
"Yeah, I guess," I mutter.
"But put that shit down and get out of my room." I walk all the way into my closet and close its door.
After getting dressed I put on some deodorant and cologne. I put my grey new balances on and grab a pair of my football cleats. I grab some extra clothes and put them in my gym bag along with my cleats.
I walk out of my closet with my stuff only to see Lizzie still laying on my bed.
"Lizzie get out."
"Alright, jeez." She mumbles.
I walk over to my nightstand and open up my drawer to find my pills. I furrow my brows when they aren't in the first drawer I usually put them in. I slam the first one shut which catches Lizzie's attention and she sits up curious about what I'm doing.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, just please get out." I respond as I open the second drawer.
She kisses her teeth but gets up and leaves anyway. I aggressively move stuff around but I still can't find it.
It's not like I wanted to take them I just need to know that I had them with me and that I knew where they are at. My dad would probably try to slip that shit in my juice or something. He's done it before and he's adamant about me taking my pills.
He thinks pills are the answer to everything and I'm honestly surprised he's not a drug addict.
I pick my duffle bag back up and leave my room. I lock my room door before walking out. Once I was downstairs I was surprised to see both my mom and dad downstairs cooking breakfast.
"Hey, mom." I acknowledge her but ignore my dad's presence.
"Hey sweetie," she walks over and kisses my cheek. "You want some breakfast?"
"I'm good."
"You sure you don't want some orange juice or something?" Paul asks. He picks up a glass of orange juice and tried to hand it to me.
I eye it skeptically, "Nah, I'm fine."
Definitely don't trust him. He's definitely the type to drug me with my own pills. My mom's more sweet and innocent. She'd never hurt a fly so I doubt that she'd try to drug me.
