A Broken Road

A Broken Road- 6

After a long shower, I got dressed in the first outfit I found in my suitcase. It was just a pair of jean shorts and a black tank top. I didn't feel like messing with my mess of brown waves so I pulled it into a loose pony tail down my back and trotted down the stairs, hoping that I was the only one awake. It was already ten, but maybe Charlie was a late sleeper.

Just in case he was awake, I placed my ear buds into my ears and played music from my phone so that I wouldn't be able to hear him. I didn't want to talk to him, or anybody else.

I quietly tiptoed into the kitchen in search of something to eat, hoping that Charlie stocked his kitchen, even though I highly doubted it. I felt relieved when I saw a pack of bacon in the fridge and decided to have bacon and toast. Dancing along the kitchen to my music, I got the bacon sizzling on a pan and the toast into the toaster.

I liked to listen to upbeat music in the morning as a way to help wake me up and get me feeling productive for the day ahead. I needed as much energy as I could get for what the day had in store for me.

I didn't actually sing, I just mouthed the words, not wanting anybody to hear me or wake up, but I delicately twirled around the cupboards and moved my hips with the beat as I flipped the bacon and the toast popped up. A few songs into my morning playlist and my plate was finished, covered in bacon and buttered toast.

It's been a week since I've had a home cooked meal. I've been ordering takeout all week, not having the energy to even lift a pinky around the house that I painfully miss already. But last night, that dream. It was just so real to me. I knew that she wouldn't want me to be mopey just because she wasn't here. My mom would want me to enjoy this 'life change' and enjoy the beaches, the balcony view, she wants me to be happy, even if she isn't here to help me through everything. So I'll do my best and I'll try to move on. The first step- making bacon.

"I didn't know prostitutes made breakfast now," somebody piped from behind me when my took my ear buds out. I turned around and saw that guy from last night looking at me with a smirk on his face. He was sitting at the island that had two bar stools behind it. I wondered when he got there and why he had been silently watching me make bacon without getting my attention, but I didn't really care that much, so I let it pass.

"It costs extra," I told him sarcastically as I started walking away from the kitchen and towards the living room to get back upstairs.

"What? You can't stay and talk to me?" The guy, whose name I seemed to have forgotten, taunted me. He didn't bother me as much as I think that he wanted to, and I wasn't even sure why he wanted to bother me at all. I didn't do anything to him, so I couldn't figure out why he was so upset with me.

"I could," I countered. "But I have much better things to do. Like read the dictionary, or stab myself with a rusty knife."

"Good morning," Charlie's gruff voice interrupted, stopping me from leaving the room. "Are you two getting along?"

"No," I snapped at the same time that the boy said "Oh, yeah."

"Paisley, your luggage is still in the living room, I'm sure Alex wouldn't mind taking it upstairs for you," Charlie said, sitting on the other bar stool. Oh right, Alex, that's his name.

"That's okay," I said quickly. "I can do it myself."

"Alright."

"I don't mind helping," Alex assured me in a sickly sweet voice, even though I knew he absolutely did mind helping.

I feigned a sweet smile. "That's okay, I don't want you to rub off your diseases. But thanks," even as I said it, I knew that it was a cheap shot and I've always been against slut shaming, but it's the only insult that I could think of.