Of Sinners & Saints

ABEL (EDITED)

Abel finished getting dressed and made his way to the bathroom. He desperately had to relieve himself first. It felt like he had a gallon reserved in his bladder. He held the bag of MD in his sweaty hand and then reluctantly emptied the contents, all that white gold, blending in with the ceramic rim of the toilet bowl. A gram of MD wasted into the sea. Maybe the fishes will get high, he half-heartedly joked. At least Nikita will be pleased, he thought.

When he went downstairs, he was greeted by the twins in the living room. The fire was lit, as it was all the time, and the room was nice and warm. "Morning you two," Abel greeted them in a groggy manner. "Hope you're feeling better than me?" He rhetorically asked them all hoarsely. His head was splitting. It was as though he had many jackhammers drilling deep into his limbic system. He so desperately needed a beverage too for he was as dry as a nun's tit.

The twins looked fine. Wide awake at least. They were sitting at the foot of the television. Mary and Jane just snickered when they saw Abel. At first, he failed to grasp the joke. "You were quiet in bed last night," they both informed him.

Rumbled.

The twins must have heard every sordid moment, he and Nikita shared together. This might just be the most awkward way to start the day, especially if Bob knew. Abel trusted the twins wouldn't say anything to their father, or so he hoped. No, instead Abel acted ignorantly and took the childish taunts on the chin like a champ. "Hilarious you two," he scratched the side of his head and continued. "Very mature, nothing happened," he affirmed.

"Sure," they both said with a mischievous glint in their grey eyes. Their heads turned to look at the television. Abel left the twins to continue viewing some terrible tabloid talk show that was on. There was no better way to feel good about your own miserable life than to see someone else's miserable life unfold on television, for viewers to behold. Abel didn't get it one bit.

The scent of a full fry-up then lured Abel into the kitchen. His keen nose as ever was right. He noticed Nikita was just finishing his breakfast. "Morning," Abel said again as he took a seat. He twisted his frame around and leaned on the back of the chair. His keen eyes were watching her at work.

Nikita cracked an egg to fry. She did not turn around to acknowledge him. "Did you get rid of it?" She put the question to him. She had a spatula in hand.

Abel knew if he said something to clever, he might get a whack. "Aye," he answered casually. "I did."

"Good," she answered.

Abel felt like he had made the right decision.

Whilst he waited for his breakfast to be served, he turned around and looked at the table before him, he noticed it had everything one could ever want. On a blue and white chequered mat sat an assortment of cereal, a rather plain fruit bowl which contained a vibrant array of fruits. There was brown and white bread. There was orange juice, sweet precious orange juice. Abel immediately poured himself a glass and downed it in one go. "Argh," he pleasantly gloated. "Now that's refreshing," he pointed out as he began rubbing the remnants of juice from his lips. Then he poured himself another glass, this time he filled it to the brim.

"A good breakfast is just what you need to start a long day," Nikita admitted. "None of your auld pop-tarts." Abel could not have agreed more. For once he was glad it wasn't a pop-tart he was having for breakfast. Nikita placed a plate before him, a full fry up indeed, done.

"Brilliant," an elated Abel said. On the plate were two chunky sausages, two rashers covered in grease, beans, mushroom and a fried egg.

It looked delicious. He licked his lips and had already eaten with his eyes now he had to devour with his mouth. He picked up the heavy cutlery and wasted no time in digging in the fork into the plump sausage and cut into it with the knife, but before he took a bite, fortunately, he remembered his good etiquettes. "Thanks, Kitty."