Mirror Images

Chapter 3: Bacon Thief

"Good morning" was the first thing I heard. 

I was in the living room of my house. I was home. But... what had I been doing? The living room looked exactly as it always had with its light blue carpet and white walls. Furniture in all shades of blue were arranged around the area. The bright orange fire crackled in the fire place and filled the room with the sweet smell of burning wood. There was a door on one wall that led to the kitchen and a hallway on the opposite wall that reached down the house to access the bedrooms. 

My grandpa had been the one to speak. He sat in a torquoise arm chair in the corner and ran a loose thread from his plaid green shirt in between his fingers. My family tree had always been odd, but I knew for sure that he was my mother's father. 

"Violet?", he asked and looked up at me. 

"Huh?", I answered idiotically.

He shook his head. "Nothing, dear, nothing. I was only saying good morning. I'm not surprised with how late you slept considering what time you got home last night."

I then noticed that he was already dressed and ready for the day and I stood in wrinkled clothes that looked days old. What time was it anyway? Why did I get home so late? Where did I go? I couldn't seem to remember anything about the last two days or so. 

"Um, Grandpa? May I ask where I went yesterday?"

"You never gave us any details. You only said you were going out for a while- something about Harley."

You could tell by his gaze that he knew something he wasn't telling me, but mother says that he does this often. His dark purple eyes seemed to gaze right through me and through the rest of the world. I wondered sometimes if he could see past this dimension into another one that we could only dream about. 

Harley. Ugh. I'd have to find him later. He always knows what's happening, whether it involves him or not. 

"Your mother is in the kitchen making brunch if you are hungry and if you're not I still suggest you go help. Trust me when I say she's not in a good mood today.

This wasn't new. She was usually aggravated most days, but it wasn't her to blame. There was so much stress put on her between being a parent and worrying about dad, who had a government job that caused him even more stress. They never stopped working. Ever. When I asked them why they put themselves through this they would reply: "Because we love you and want to do everything we possibly can to make a good life for you." I believed them, but most of the time I just wonder. 

With grandpa's gaze still staring forward, I walked to the door that led to the kitchen. When I pushed it open, I could immediately smell the greasy bacon cooking on the stove. 

The kitchen was probably the coziest room of the house, which has always been weird because we don't ever cook in there. It's used as more of a study and office for my parents who both have government jobs. Dad always says that we are a lucky family because of this. 

My mother was sitting at the bar behind a mountain of paper work while breakfast foods cooked on the stove. Mom was a kind a secretary for my dad. She answered all his messages, reviewed the paperwork, and other boring things such as that. I've always vowed to myself to never get stuck with a job like that. On the other hand, dad had it a little better off. He has a low position working for the Influence, the group of people that started up this community and ran the government. The only reason why he was allowed in was because my grandpa had such an important role in the Influence years ago before he retired. The system was kind of like a monarchy with nine families. When one member retired, which was rarely heard of, or died the son of the next generation of the family would take the spot. All the positions were held by men of course, but women were allowed to help with less important tasks such as my mother did. 

I could tell mom was trying to concentrate, so I didn't say anything and walked by the bar to sit at the table. It was a sturdy, wooden, medium-sized table that was used for eating. Though, the only people that ever sat down long enough to eat were grandpa and I. 

"Well then, no good morning or anything?", mom said as she turned around from her papers to face me. 

"So far I haven't been the best at greetings this morning, but good morning anyways.", I replied trying to hide the fact that I was annoyed. 

She let out an irritated huff and went back to studying her paperwork.

"Where's dad?", I asked.

There was a strange silence for a few moments before she answered.

 "Got called into work for an urgent meeting. Something very important."

"What about?"

"Nothing."

"What?"

"I told you. Something important."

"But-"

"Enough questions. I'm trying to focus."

Mom and I never did see eye to eye, but it was mainly because she always thought I couldn't understand certain things. You would think that she wouldn't still believe this now since I'm fourteen. 

I jerked the chair away from the table and went to the door that led into the living room. As I pushed it open, I turned to look at the food that was sizzling on the stove. The smell was too tempting too resist. 

"Mom, I think breakfast is burning.", I blurted out. 

This didn't even get her attention enough to make her look up. So all at once, I swooped over the bacon, grabbed about seven or eight pieces, and sprinted out the door. 

I ran straight past grandpa, who was still sitting in the turquoise arm chair and down the hall to my bedroom. The till blue door slammed against the wall behind me as I rushed to grab my bag and get out the window. Blackjack, my black cat, was laying on the unmade bed and clothes were scattered around the room. Normally, I wouldn't leave my room in this state, but I needed some time away from this place to think. 

Within twenty seconds I was out the window and running.