THE PICTURE OF YOU -rafe cameron-

030; milkshakes

Birdsong, rustling from the kitchen and creaking floorboards. Myra awoke in her room the very next day, the sun shining brightly though the blinds of her dusty windows. She groaned, rolling around as to try and block it out. The brightness of the nice warm summer day was making her eyes burn. She barely remembered how she had gotten into bed last night, only that she had walked home during the sunrise, her worn out shoes against the pavement. The light then hadn't been as excruciating as it was now.

Myra rolled onto her back again, slowly dragging her hands across her face. She was hungover for sure, a feeling which she hated. It made everything feel sticky and unbearable. The birdsong outside of her window annoyed her and she could hear someone rustling around in the kitchen in a rush. It was either her older brother or her dad, she wasn't sure. The two of them would rustle around the house in a very similar way.

Another few minutes past until Myra managed to pull the covers off of her bare legs and swing them over the edge of her bed. She placed her feet on the old worn out wooden floor, groaning as she felt the cold surface sting against the bottom of her feet. With another groan she stood up, slowly getting dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of shorts that laid on her desk chair. She left the blinds as they were, not needing her headache to further evolve. Myra dragged her feet to the door of her room, opening it as gently as she could before she peered out. She didn't want to startle whoever was awake and roaming around in the small house. Both her brother and her dad had a habit of starting unnecessary arguments, and she didn't want to be yelled at. She was too hungover for that right now.

At first she didn't see anyone, so she left her room, closing the door behind her. She turned a corner, seeing her dad sitting down on the couch before their old television. Usually he would've had some old cowboy show on, but their power still hadn't returned. The whole cut hadn't had any luck in that division, even if the hurricane was long gone. He had a dry ham sandwich in his hand and on the coffee table stood a open bottle of beer. It wasn't even half empty, so Myra immediately knew that he had just opened it.

Luke looked up as he heard the old floorboards of the living room creak, seeing his daughter emerging from the hallway. "Good morning sweetheart" he greeted her with a raspy voice, catching her off guard slightly. He didn't sound angry or drunk this time, Myra thought. "Good morning dad" she spoke back, not sure that it was actually morning time. Her dad wasn't one to keep track of that. She glanced at a clock that hung on the wall further down the room. It was old and collecting dust, but it still did it's job. It showed 12:34, meaning it wasn't exactly morning at all. "Still no power?" Myra asked, flipping a nearby switch on the wall. "Nope" her dad spoke before taking a big bite of his sandwich. "Right" Myra muttered, combing her fingers through her knotted up hair, "well I'm gonna get ready and head to work"

"Good on you sweetheart"

Myra felt disgusting to say the least. She needed a shower and two or three Advils to morph back into some kind of human form. She looked around the house as she slowly made her way back towards her room, curious as to see her brother. "Dad, is JJ home?" she called out from the hallway. It was unusually quiet in the house so she assumed him to be out causing a ruckus somewhere else. It didn't take long for her dad to answer, the tone of his voice a little pissed off, "no, I don't know where that bastard is"

Myra nodded to herself as she opened the door to her room, slipping in to gather her things. About ten minutes later she was sat on her old bicycle peddling towards figure eight, leaving her home on the cut behind just for a little while. Her backpack bounced gently against her back and her sunglasses rested on the bridge of her nose. It was a hot day, as most days on Kildare island were. The sun danced over every inch of land, stinging with its burning rays. Not a cloud could be seen upon the clear blue sky.