OUT OF THE RED ↝ dave grohl

twenty-seven.

          [ hi! this is an insert chapter that is making up for what i've missed according to the storyline. if you remember my announcement from a few days ago, this is what i was talking about! so technically this isn't a new update, but i hope y'all enjoy it regardless! ]

REAGAN HAD NEVER felt so relieved to step foot inside of her house, closing the door and shielding herself from the gusts of winter air rattling her bones. She'd layered herself in a thick coat above her work uniform, but even then, her teeth chattered as she slipped inside and locked the front door.

By the sound of it, her family was already having dinner in the kitchen. She could hear their cacophony of babble and the scraping of silverware against plates, leading her to wonder (as well as hope) that Kimberly had perhaps set aside a dish for her.

"Who's there?" someone called, halting the evening conversation.

"Just me," Reagan replied, hanging her coat by the front door and prying pieces of wind blown hair out of her face.

She strode into the kitchen while still pulling auburn tendrils out of her eyes and stumbled upon her somewhat picturesque family, gathered around the table and helping themselves to a meal of pork chops and salad. Her stomach rumbled in response to the appetizing visual.

"Did you make any for me?" Reagan asked, walking towards the countertop that showcased a spread of pans and bowls.

"I thought you were working late tonight," Kimberly said, sipping her water and knitting her eyebrows in the mock sort of way that made Reagan angry enough to spit.

"You know my work hours. I was on the closing shift tonight," Reagan said tersely. If she had known that her mother was going to forget about her, she would have simply gone through a drive-thru for fast food.

"Reagan, do you know how many things I have to remember daily? You can't expect me to remember the hours you work all the time," Kimberly sighed.

Robbie, who had hardly touched his food, sat up straighter in his chair with perked ears. "Let's go to McDonalds" he suggested enthusiastically, looking towards Reagan.

"Sit down," Kimberly commanded her son. "There's leftover baked potato soup in the fridge that your sister can heat up."

Robbie frowned and slumped back dejectedly into his seat. "McDonald's would have been better than this."

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing, Mom!"

Reagan swallowed back the volley of what Kimberly would have called 'smart-aleck' comments lodging themselves between her lips. If she could help it, she refused to be at odds with her mother, at least outwardly. It was better for her to fume in silence. At least that way, Kimberly never had anything else to complain about when it came to Reagan.

She wrapped her hand around the handle of the refrigerator knowing that she didn't want baked potato soup for dinner. She wanted the hot meal that everyone else was eating, but it had been made clear that she wasn't meant to be included that night. It was an odd enough thing to make Reagan want to question just exactly what her mother expected out of her. To be an honorary member of the family, or to sit on the sidelines and watch them all play house together?

"Reagan, will you take the twins for a bath before you eat?" Kimberly asked, craning her neck over her shoulder to glimpse at Reagan, who still stood in front of the fridge.

Reagan hesitated, clutching her fingers tighter around the plastic handle. She felt her stomach growl with hunger again.

"Can I eat first?"