Dreams Don't Come True (Being Rewritten)

Chapter One

(Disclaimer- I, Author-chan, did not draw the cover art. I repeat, DID NOT...draw it. Unfortunately, I don't really know who made it, but it's really nice. Anyway. Thanks for reading and enjoy!)

You jolted awake in you bed, your back and neck slick with nervous sweat. It was that stupid nightmare that woke you up again. On the bright side (kinda) you were used to waking up like this. Unlike the first few times when dreams like this came to you at night, you were calm after the initial waking up part.

With a sigh, you combed you hand through your (H/C) hair. The cool autumn air bit at your bare skin, raising goosebumps up and down your arm and legs. It was unfortunately getting close to winter. The time of the year when you'd need to steal some blankets from around to house to stay warm.

With an impatient huff, you snuggled further into the threadbare blanket. Pale morning light filtered in through the small window on the far wall, illuminating your empty room. A pile of clean clothes to one side of the room and a pile of dirty ones on the other. Sometimes there weren't any clean clothes for you to wear, but whatever. It wasn't like you were going anywhere.

You're mother didn't allow you to leave the house. Which in your opinion, was just fine. Other people around town would probably be horrified upon seeing you. You were a disgusting monster. That's what everyone you knew said. They told you that you were useless, ugly, a waste of air. Besides...you didn't have any warm clothes that fit anymore.

With it being November, you would freeze out there.

With a frown, you reluctantly threw the covers back, a fresh wave of cold air hitting you as you got up. The cold floor was a shock to your feet, but whatever. Everyone else was still asleep and it was getting to be time for you to make breakfast. Judging by the position of the sun, which was just peeking over the rolling hills, it was about 6 o'clock.

Your mom didn't wake up until roughly 8 o'clock, depending on how drunk she was, but your step-brother was a different story. Luckily, you'd heard him up late last night playing video games, so he shouldn't be up until late in the morning.

Spotting your favorite shirt, you quickly changed into the worn, and slightly blood stained shirt before opening the door to your room and walking upstairs. Thankfully, your room was in the basement, away from the rest of your family who lived on the top floor.

Like a mouse at night, you snuck quietly through the house. Well, not really snuck. You lived here, albeit, unwillingly, but still. After a minute of quietly making your way to the kitchen, you got the eggs and bacon out of the fridge and set it on the nearest counter. You turned to grab a pan out of the cupboard behind you and in the process, banged your wrist on the fridge.

You cursed quietly to yourself and cradled the sprang appendage with your other hand. You'd sprang it a few days ago when you tripped on your way down the basement stairs. No one heard (either that or no one cared), and on top of it, you were out of supplies to wrap it in. With any luck, you could sneak out soon to grab some bandages.

You hissed in pain as you let go of your wrist and tested it out. It wasn't hurting too much. Good.

Silently, you continued to work in the kitchen. Cooking a warm fluffy omelet for your brother and a couple of sunny-side-up eggs for your mom. A few pieces of bacon on the side for both of them as well as toast on each plate. In your opinion, they could pour their own drinks today, so you let that be for now and put the plates in the microwave to keep the food warm.

As you absently cleaned up the mess, you munched on a piece of bacon. Within minutes you'd wiped down the counters and had put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. With everything done, you snagged a leftover piece of toast that was smeared with butter and quickly ate it before starting with the other chores.

*Smol time-skip*

Within thirty minutes you were done cleaning up the first floor. Dusting, sweeping, polishing...the usual. With a condescending laugh to yourself you walked to the closet to put the cleaning supplies away. "I suppose it's a good thing I got this good at cleaning, huh?" You muttered.

In all honesty, you talked to yourself quite a lot. It wasn't like you laughed maniacally to yourself or plotted with the voices inside your head. You just got lonely and voicing your thoughts made you feel much better. Not better really, but less alone.

For a moment there, you contemplated going upstairs to clean the other rooms, but figured that your mom would get pretty pissed if you woke her up early. Quietly, you walked back to the kitchen and checked the time. 7:46. Still about fifteen minutes until people usually started waking up.

And so with nothing left to do, you tiptoed to the living room and sat on the floor, waiting silently for your mother to wake up as you did every morning. It was always best to get upstairs as soon as she came down for breakfast. That way, you could clean up there without worrying to much about her.

There you sat on the floor. Staring at the stairs as time slowly ticked away. At this point, you couldn't help but wonder what you were still doing here. Maybe it was some sort of hope that your mom would go back to the way she was before...before 'that' happened.

With a sigh, you leaned your head on your knees and waited.