Outlasted (2.0) • Outlast | IN PROGRESS

Chapter One: Trager Meets Upshur

Monday, October 5th, 2014

6:51 A.M.

"Hello? Earth to sleepyhead! Wake up, Alyssa, you slept through your alarm!"

She has to say this twice before I actually hear and interpret it as human speech. Yawning, feeling groggy and completely unwilling to get out of this bed, I stretch my arms straight up in the air and hold them there extended for about five seconds. Everything is still hazy. The cloudiness of sleep is still enveloping me.

"Alyssa! Did you hear me?" my mom calls again. Her voice sounds close yet distant; she's probably at the foot of the stairs. "I have your and Jesse's breakfast ready, so get up, get dressed, and c'mon down!"

"Okay, okay, I'll be down!" I call back. Only now am I finally gathering the motivation to climb off my bed, and even that's a slow process. I trudge over to my closet, feeling like a zombie, and absentmindedly pull out the first shirt and pants I see.

"Hey, they even match. Nice," I mutter to myself. I quickly shed my PJs and change, then head to the bathroom to run a comb through my hair. It doesn't look great, but it doesn't look horrible, either. Mediocre will have to do for now.

About five minutes later, I've made my way downstairs and am greeted by my mom, who's surprisingly smiling, sitting at the other end of our small dining room table next to my three-year-old cousin, Jesse. I say small because, well, it just looks small because it used to seat four people. And now, of course, it only seats three.

"Morning, hun. I'm guessing you didn't sleep well last night?" my mom inquires, handing Jesse his sippy cup. "I had to call you three times before you heard me!"

In response, I just shrug. "I slept okay, I think. Getting up early is just...not easy."

"How easy do you think it is for me to get up a half hour before you, just to make sure you and Jesse're up?" she teases. "Earlybird life isn't easy, genie. But sadly, we have no choice."

I always smile when she calls me genie. It's not only my family nickname, but it's what Dad used to call me--he came up with it when I was around six. Why? Simple. I was obsessed with Aladdin as a kid, and it's still one of my all-time favorite movies. And, of course, the nickname still stands. I don't mind it.

"Maybe if school didn't always start at such a demented time," I say. "Like, seriously? How many kids are alert and ready to learn at eight in the morning? On a Monday, nonetheless?"

My mom laughs. "Well, what are you going to do."

"Complain" is my kurt response. I'm only half joking. "Maybe cry."

"All right, drama queen," my mom responds. "Just eat your breakfast, then complain after."

And this is why I love my mom.

Once I'm done, I gather all my school stuff sitting on the counter, shove it all in my backpack, then run back upstairs to put on concealer and pick out my shoes. It takes me less than five minutes to do both of those, but still, my mom calls me again and tells me to hurry. She also tells me not to fall back to sleep up there. I ignore that part.

"Wait, Lyss! While you're up there, could you grab my purse? It's on my dresser!" my mom calls, just as I reach the top of the stairs. I roll my eyes and groan, but of course I do it. I'm not that much of a brat.

Only once I get downstairs and we're heading out to the car do I act like we're running late all because I had to get her purse. I only meant it as a joke, but she seems to actually believe it. After she straps Jesse into his car seat, she gets the car running faster than I've ever seen her, and once we pull out of the driveway and start driving, I notice she's going almost ten miles above the speed limit. We don't talk much on the drive there, despite neither of us being in a crappy mood. Once my mom is determined, I figure it's best to just let her concentrate.