Syndicate Origins: Persona [NaNoWriMo2014, 2015]

CHAPTER ONE: THE BROTHER

CHAPTER ONE

I used to love breakfast. It was the meal I could count on to get me stumbling out of bed and into the kitchen to where delicious food awaited. The salted scrambled eggs, the crispy strips of greasy bacon, the occasional stack of pancakes, and the tall glass of milk or orange juice. My chair would feel cold and unwelcoming, but I wouldn't care. I would sit down in my official spot and watch my mom sit down next to me, helping me fill my plate. My eyes would flicker towards my father, but would see only a newspaper.

It was enjoyable. My mom would talk to me about school and make sure I had everything ready for school. My father, on the other hand, wouldn't take as much of an interest in my life, but would converse with my mom if she spoke to him. The meal would continue until I finished and my mom would then follow me to my room. She would straighten out my school uniform and fiddle with my raven hair, fixing the tiniest of problems that seemed to dwell in my hair. I would pout and mess it up as she tried to fix it. After my mom would give up, she would hand my school bag and hold my hand as we made our way out of our house and into the limo. We would chat on the way to my private elementary school and when it came time for me to get out, she would hug me and kiss my forehead.

That's how my mornings used to go eight years ago.

Now they go like this.

After quietly getting out of my warm sheets, I tried to not stumble as I grabbed the hanger that my uniform hangs on. I allowed myself to momentarily close my eyes as I pulled my uniform off the hanger, letting myself remember the smells that use to fill the air at this time.

Then I remembered why the house doesn't have those mouth-watering smells pervading the house. That's when the daydream ends and a kind of numbness swiftly washes over my arms and legs. I shook my head back and forth as I pushed my bathroom door open and enter, flicking a switch as I did so.

Grow up, grow up, grow up.

That's the thought that goes round and round inside my head as I silently get out of my pajamas and into my school clothes. Father has said this to me again and again over the years, apparently irritated that I hadn't gotten over the accident yet. Years have pass, he'll say when we happen to run into one another, and it's high time you grow up. His voice would be firm yet cold, like he wasn't seeing me when he said it.

How would I get over it when it was clear to me that he couldn't either?

Of course, I couldn't say that to his face. Not if I wanted to keep the already fragile peace in this house.

". . . later . . . giggling. . . . hear you."

My eyes slipped closed for the second time this morning. It seemed that my father's bed partner hadn't slipped out of the house in the middle of the night like the others did. Perhaps this one thought she could sleep her way into a wedding ring, preferably my father's. Heaven knows that there have been a few others that thought the same.

But at least the others didn't have an annoying giggle.

". . . a daughter?"

Ah, so this woman was a new one. Father must have ditched his last one. I should have anticipated it because his previous "girlfriend" had become too friendly with his wallet and credit cards. When women started down the road, or developed feelings, Father would immediately kick them out of his bed and his life before things became too messy. After all, he didn't need a woman to claim she was pregnant or try to get pregnant with his child.

I was enough.

". . . wife . . ."

I instantly turned on the faucet and continued to get ready for the day, ignoring the rest of my father's response. I didn't need to hear anymore to know that he was telling the tragic tale of his deceased wife and the condition of his heart, claiming to not have the strength to love again. It was his way of pushing women away and crushing their dreams of becoming Mrs. Daysfield. I don't know why he just didn't tell these women the terms of their relationship, but Father seemed to enjoy his bed partner's reactions when they learned he would not marry again ever.