❝Trust me to get involved with you, the worst werewolf ever.❞
A green light catches my eye, the glow peeking over the top of a bookshelf like a sun slowly rising over the distant hills. I sprint to the place the glow was originating, weav...
My hand gripped the metal red bar tightly, using my little upper body strength to launch myself up into the air, dirty white converses leaving the polished grocery story ground as my untied laces trail behind me. The trolly smoothly glides down the empty aisle before I decided to rejoin the dust on the floor, stopping the large metal helper as I looked over all the different cereal options.
We had absolutely no food at home, the only thing occupying the cupboards was dust and cobwebs. We probably should have brought some food with us, but luckily we've had a shit ton of takeaway for the past three days we've been here, much to both Tram and I's pleasure.
"Cheerios have always been your favourite." My mums' familiar voice announced. I don't jump at their sudden appearances anymore, it's almost comforting like she never left me. I turn to her as she stands up straight, lifting her cheek from my shoulder as she gazed over the vibrant colours with a smile, turning to me with an even bigger one. "Lucky Charms are still your brothers, right?"
"No, he's changed it to fruit loops. He can never make a decision," I laugh silently, to others I was laughing to myself, but to me, I was laughing with my mum. I let go of the red handle, standing on my tip toes with my arms stretched as far as they will go in hopes of reaching the Cheerios and fruit loops. Curse these small legs.
"Gracie, the trolly is running away," Mum told me, her eyes focused behind me to where the trolly full of veggies—to cancel out the takeaway—was casually rolling away from me.
"Shit." I curse, abandoning my sad attempt at reaching my favourite cereal to run after the healthy alternative trying to escape me. The squeaky, oil seeking wheels came to a stop when my slender hands gripped the metal bar, putting it's journey to an end but not before it slammed into a red heads hip, knocking her back an inch. "Oh my god, I am so sorry."
She laughed, looking upwards from her metal attacker to me. The edges of her plump lips were pulled upwards in a closed-lip smile, hiding what I assume to be a full set of pearly whites. Her long fiery hair was swept up into one of those rare perfect messy buns, a few loose hairs shadowing her flawless features like a thin curtain. Her bun was paired with her black pyjama shorts and a plain white t-shirt, a pink and fluffy dressing gown hiding her shoulders from any eyes that may try to sneak a peak, accompanied by her beige ugg boots. She made me feel somehow underdressed in my Care Bears button-up shirt and shorts, completely mismatched with my dirty converses. Not even to mention my 'bun' that is really just a huge knot in my hair.
God, I hate her already.
"It's fine. Completely my fault, I should have looked where I was going instead of being on my phone." She announced, letting her teeth peak through the gap in her lips as she held up her phone. I wish I had her smile.
"Kayla, you don't need to be in contact with Oliver every minute of every day." I hear a thick Australian accent curse the girl out. Her eyes roll almost completely into her head, craning her neck around to face the approaching person. The male quickly came into view, confusing the absolute hell out of me when I matched their face to my memories. "Oh, hi."
"You're bastard," I mumble to myself, lifting an accusing finger to point it towards him, my plain nail and simple silver ring turning back to my side with my eyebrows still furrowed intensely. "Why do you have an accent?"
But, before he could answer me, and confirm his nationality, my brother so rudely decided to scream out to me, his booming voice bouncing back and forth through the empty aisles.
"Gracie, you're taking forever. I've already finished my half of the list!" I hear Tram call out to me, his deep voice echoing throughout the empty store. Not many people were here at five minutes till closing, yet in front of me stood the guy I bumped into a few nights ago. Tram finally came into view, appearing out of nowhere from behind me with a confused expression taking over his features. "What's going on?"
"When I was shamefully reaching for the cereal, the trolly decided to almost break one of her ribs." I sum up the current situation to my brother, watching as he snickered at me as I said I wasn't able to even gaze the cereal box against my fingertips. Luckily I wasn't facing the two models behind me and I screwed my face up at my freakishly tall brother. "Go get your fucking fruit loops."
"Hurry up, the shop's closing in, like, two minutes." Tram sang, spinning on his heels to go get my awaited cereal. Not before an overdramatic eye roll, of course.
"Well, I must go and make sure he actually gets what I want and doesn't play god. I'll be off, goodbye." I ramble awkwardly, standing still for a minute–just adding to the crushing atmosphere–before quickly spinning around like a ballerina on crack and darting off in the direction of my annoying brother, who was currently holding the cheerio box up above his head, laughing when I couldn't reach it despite jumping up as high as I could.
The tips of my converse connect with his knee, causing a moment of weakness where he doubled over. I took this opportunity to knock the box out of his hand and into the trolly, sticking my tongue out at him before sprinting away from him.
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"I'm just saying, if you kick me again I'll tape you to a treadmill, turn it all the way up and watch your skin burn off." Tram shrugged off his statement as he dropped the bags in his hands onto the kitchen table, pulling the licorice rope from between his teeth. I cringe at him, always hating the taste of the stupid tree jizz that he adored.
"Ha-ha. Your imagination should not be wasted on empty threats, dear brother." I mock, grabbing my container of salt and vinegar Pringles from one of the plastic bags. We weren't meant to get any sort of treat from the supermarket, but what dad doesn't know won't hurt him. What did he expect, sending us to go shopping alone, he knew this would happen. "I hope you choke on your obesity noose."
"Have fun with your type two diabetes in a can." He called after me as I make my way to my room, flipping him the bird before shutting my bedroom door. I was welcomed by my blanket and pillow messily thrown on my bare floor–or as I now call it, bed.
Those moving trucks cannot come soon enough, I'm even starting to miss my ratty mattress despite its many stains and rips. I miss anything that reminds me of home, reminds me of when things weren't so fucked up and I had my Mum around, waking me up at ungodly hours and always watching seasons upon seasons of friends with me because both dad and Tram couldn't stand the show.
But nothing will really feel like home without her. It's hard to miss someone that you're terrified of remembering, because closing my eyes won't hide me from the monster standing at the end of my bed, waiting for me to take the blanket from my eyes and stare into its empty sockets. So I stay shaking in the dark, light at my fingers if only I was brave enough to sneak a glance, waiting for the monster to grow impatient. Hoping it grows inpatient.
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this is a very short and boring chapter but I've gained intense writers' block whoops
I hope it's still enjoyable as the next chapter probably won't be that great either but we always have the first chapter and prologue that was the bomb.com
let me know what you think !
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