Slaves of the Night

Chapter 4 - With Or Without You

Slaves of the Night

Chapter 4: With Or Without You:

  I couldn’t help but think that the dress I was wearing was ridiculous. It shrunk wrapped to my body uncomfortably, and I fidgeted the whole time I was curling my hair. Getting into the darn thing had been worse, I had even contemplated going in my underwear instead of going through the hassle of wrangling the stupid thing on me. I mean no one would actually see me right? I would be under a graduation robe; they wouldn’t be able to tell me if I was wearing sweat pants or a Vera Wang ten-thousand dollar gown. Just deal with it—I would yell at myself as I bit my lip from shrieking from repeatedly burning my ear with the curling iron—it’s just one night. One night and you can go back to being an unkempt slob.

  That was the bargain I made with myself and I was going to see through it if it killed me. At the rate it was going I might not live to see twenty, but I wasn’t left much time to dwell on it. Sneaking out of the Everdeen household hadn’t been an easy task, but I had managed it at six thirty in the morning. I fired up my car and booked it to my house, which was growing more distant and unfamiliar by the day. My dad wouldn’t wake up until eight and I still had another half hour to finish up my hair curling and make him breakfast. I assumed—hopefully—that he had been too tired returning last night to notice I wasn’t in my own bedroom when he got home. But even if he did check in on me, a good home-cooked eggs and bacon wouldn’t keep him mad for long. Chewing and ranting just didn’t go together in his book.

  I hissed as I released the last curl out of the iron, before yanking the plug out of the wall so it could cool and piling the hair on top of my head to cascade down in a high ponytail. There, everything was done; I could release the breath I was holding. While I had allowed Quinn to pick out the dress months ago, I had gone against her wishes on the shoes, opting for sensible flats instead of the heels slash lethal weapons proposed. Standing up, I was thankful for sticking to my resolves because I didn’t wobble on my feet. The mirror showed me back myself, except improved, eyes enhanced with a little mascara and lip gloss swept across normally pale pink lips. The dress was not going to win me any favors with the sun, being as black as it was and long sleeves, but it did look better in the mirror than when I had been attempting to force it on myself.

  Shuffling aroused from the bedroom near mine, and I hurried out of the room and down the stairs to make breakfast. The fridge and cupboards were stocked with only what I had bought before coming here that morning, and I didn’t need to take much time before having whipped a successful batch of eggs, bacon and toast to please the eyes. When I had gone to the grocery store I hadn’t really known what my father liked to eat anymore; being that he probably ate every night out at fancy restaurants with all his lawyer buddies. Flustered, I had searched for the most simple and standard of meals to make to stay on the safe side, my only risk was choosing fruit to complement the dish. Cutting that up before I made my nails presentable, it went straight from the fridge to the table.

  The shower had stopped and I was left to shift and stir a little longer in the kitchen uncomfortably as I waited. And during the time if anything was left to sit too long, like the flowers in the vase or the silverware on the table, I had to meticulously rearrange them to look not only proper, but perfect. The eggs and bacon were probably already cold by the time he would be done getting dressed, and I pondered whether I had enough time to just whip up a whole new batch instead of microwaving them. God, I swear the man took more time to primp in the morning that Quinn did; it didn’t take all that much time to shave and brush your teeth did it?