Miss_Ashliey_Blye
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Petals
Chapter One
Rose Point of View
I didn’t dream. I didn’t allow myself to. You could call me a wuss because I prohibited my mind to reach the realms of dreamland. Sorry if I don’t want wicked night terrors to loom over my conscious as I sleep, invading my time. I don’t sleep for very long and I’d rather it be a pit of darkness than taunting’s that end in me screaming bloody murder or the sweats that cover my body like ice cubes. I couldn’t stand it, so I put a stop to it. I was lucky I had the will power to put a stop to the night terrors while not many people could and were tortured every night.
I only vaguely remember the last terror I had, they all were so alike it burned me. They all were morbid reminders that my life was full of burdens. Like the fact that my mother was dead leaving me the woman in charge at only nine years old, which turned my father into a raging lunatic! But most of the time he drowns the anger with Jack Daniels, his new wife, leading him to not show up for work and pass out some place in our large cabin. Which is another reminder in itself, the looming obscure forest with its bulky trees that cover the green and brown speckled field. At night you can hear the wolves, they howl so loud you’d think they lost their best friend! Other than that their presence is just a reminder that we live in the middle of nowhere (forty-five minutes from town) in a cabin my mom and dad bought when they got straight out of high school. Naïve.
Before I could jump into my spiel about marrying too young and the consequences of doing such, my savior, my alarm clock beeped delightfully letting me know it was time to open my eyes and enter the world of grown-up land! Most people don’t like their alarm clock but I love mine, why not? I can count on it, (hee hee, get it, count? Because it tells time) it never lets me down! Unless I don’t set it, then I’m in horse crap!
Jumping out of bed I nicely hit the button that turns the alarm off until tomorrow. The thick quilt almost slips onto the dark wooden floor. Bending down picking it up I feel my joints pop at the discomfort. For only being nineteen my bones do ache a lot, must have something to do with the labor I do, well not tough labor like laying tile of anything, I waitress at a fancy restaurant called Matrices. I graciously had accepted my job as my best friend, Hope, worked there. Her father owned, and his father had built the place. In Renton Washington there wasn’t much city-life but we had the necessary things that people needed.
The bed creaked as I made my way around it tucking the corners of the sheet and blankets, puffy the pillow up as I went by. I liked to do things in order, and clean my messes up as I went, something my sister failed to comply with. Violet… I think almost on cue as I hear a loud crash coming from downstairs. Sighing I grab my thick cotton rob, not that I need it, its September and the last bit of summer is pouring into the house like it missed us or something. Trees circle us making our two story cabin look like a tiny mushroom top, I was soaking up the sun trying to get my alabaster skin some color. It was hopeless, the sun repelled me burning me with blistering red color, sending me back inside every time. I walked the planks of wood leading to the stairs case, which was the only way out of my room, which was half of the second floor, the rest was a tiny living room and bathroom separate to mine. My mom and dad didn’t want anyone to have to hold their bladder since there was five bathrooms total, each bedroom except the guest one had one, then one extra upstairs. I padded down barefoot to the main level waiting for an explanation for the noise. It could be anything really, my drunk dad though I don’t think he’d be up this early, or Violet… and with Violet it could be anything. I scanned the area not seeing anything out of place that still didn’t mean anything. I passed the sliding glass door briefly meeting its dark gaze as the sky was cluttered with clouds even in the early hours. I went to open the kitchen door but stopped my palm fully on the light wood door, I listened and heard the clicking of pots and pans, oh great she was trying to cook! Everyone knew that Violet (bless her heart) couldn’t make top ramen without busting our microwave or burning herself! Then I smelled something burning, pushing hard on the door I already wore my natural expression; tired mixed with accusation.
