Artist Unknown

5.

Luke

Twisting myself free of the covers, I opened my eyes with difficulty. The light hung low in the room creating tall, elongated shadows out of the tiniest objects. The mornings were taking longer to arrive, something my cat, Charlie, didn't seem to understand. I called her Charlie because she took a liking to Prince Charles when she saw on the TV. Couldn't get her away from the screen.

She bounded on top of me, making biscuits on my abdomen while simultaneously staring at me with I'm sure were adorable eyes, but in this light, he looked like he'd been at the catnip a little too much.

"Mmm" I groaned, rubbing my eyes to see through the fog. Charlie didn't take to kindly to not being seen, head butting my chin with his head. It's softness almost pushing back into sleep.

"I-I'm not ignoring you, buddy. How could I ignore that Bastet like face?" I tickled under his chin as his purring grew louder.

I sleepily reached for my water on my bedside cabinet, feeling around blindly as I was too lazy to fully open my eyes. The glass was warm, but I sipped it anyway, only to spit it out and scare Charlie away in the process. I sat up swiftly in bed; now I was fully awake. Why did it taste so awful?

Looking down I realised it was the glass that I used to clean my paint brushes in. Delicious!

Once I was up, I dressed for work before heading for the door. Hesitantly I looked back.

I sighed before seeing the carnage that was my room. Papers and paint strewn about the floor, a window that only had one curtain, mould on the skirting boards, clothes slumped on my sofa bed in what I'm assuming Charlie called his bed last night. Did I live like this? Did everything on this room contribute to my entire life?

This attic room was what I'd always had, grown up in. I imagined that if these walls could talk, they wouldn't say much. Not anything happy, anyway. Just sorrowful words relating to the painful, agonising moments that played out here. Either that or a protracted silence with me at the centre. No friends; no fun; no midnight chats; no giggling at movies; no botched kisses with girls. The precious years of my life, I'd spent alone. To tell you the truth, the only laughter I recall hearing in here was that of my sister whenever she'd play with me after school or my parents coming to see what I was painting. Whether or not Kerry had been told to play with me by my parents, or if she genuinely wanted to, I'm not sure.

I walked into the kitchen, Charlie behind me where the kids were up eating breakfast, unusually early for a Saturday. Kerry fed Tony, while Connor sat patiently eating his toast. Stephy, as was expected was circling the table twirling a long piece of ribbon high above her head. Charlie seeming to prefer the ribbon to breakfast.

"Morning, everyone" I walked in exceptionally slowly, quietly opening the cupboard for a mug.

"Good morning" Connor beamed, brandishing his toast at me "Mummy said I would have chips again wext weekend if I eat my Bweakfast all up today. Wook, I'm almost finished!" He grinned.

"Good job. B-but you also have e-eat your tea at Nan Nans, tonight" I stated, pouring water from the kettle. Connors face contorted into one of horror. On weekends the kids usually spend it with Ian's parents. A jovial woman with a pale blue knitted cardigan, who frequently smelt of cotton wool.

"Not Gweens! I hate Gween food!! Billy says that they're snot fwom a dogs nose! They poison you!!"

"They aren't made from dog snot. Not a-all green food tastes as bad a-as it looks. You like green pop rocks, don't you?" I asked him, stirring my tea. He nodded slowly, arguably suspicious of where I was going with this.