Your Fine

Bacon and Eggs

I sprint down the dark hallway at full speed. I don't know what I'm running from, or why, but I am. I run and run, but the hallway never ends. The torn wallpaper that blankets the sides of this corridor wiz by me as I continue moving. Whatever is behind me is trying to take me. To stop me. I can't let it catch up.

I can hear my feet stomp against the floor like a stick beating on a drum. I can feel my heart pounding out of my chest. The fear that is flowing through me is painful. It's just me, against, it.

I don't think it's a person. I would hear it's steps. It's silent. But it's also very loud. It's so loud in my head, but I can't actually hear anything.

It's getting harder to run. My legs are getting harder and harder to move. They are turning into rubber. It's as if gravity is slowly depleting. I'm running through an endless hallway on the moon. I can feel it getting closer to me.

And then, nothing.

I jolt awake in a cold sweat. I can feel my hands shaking and my heart pounding throughout my body. I stare down at the floor where my phone is. The time is 5:54 A.M. I sigh, and slump against my pillow. Relax. It was just another one of those dreams. I hate those dreams. I have them a lot. A lot more than I used to, at least.

I might as well start getting ready for school. It's only about five minutes to 6:00, which is when I would usually wake up.

I sluggishly trot over to my desk which has my books and bag. After putting my few notebooks and binder in a too small backpack, I throw on an oversized hoodie, a pair of shorts. I walk over to my closet to retrieve a pair of black converse from inside. My closet makes me feel, sad, in a way. It emits this cold, dark and lonely pain. I don't sleep well when it's open. Not because I'm scared of what's inside it, but because I'm scared of what's inside me. I'm scared of what I might do if I stay inside for too long. I quickly swing open the door, snatch my shoes, and close the doors immediately after. It's done, I'm done. 

Out my door, down the small hallway, across the creaky floor, is the kitchen. the aroma of freshly made eggs and bacon fill the house. My mom is cooking. The smell of the greasy food makes me cringe. That stench alone makes my mouth taste gross, and my face feel slick with grease and fat. This tends to happen with a lot of foods. Anything cooked in grease, any fast food, pasta. Stuff like that just makes me uncomfortable. It makes me feel disgusting. But I could never tell my family that. They would think I'm crazy. I wouldn't be surprised if they don't already think that. I'm super picky with food, and they can't seem to see why. But that's why. I just can't be a normal person with food.

Food. My whole life, I just shoved any processed garbage people called food into my mouth. Not real food, I now know, but back then, I didn't know any better. I wasn't a skinny kid. Far from it, actually. I was a big girl. Back in my middle school days, kids would call me names. There were too many to count, but my personal favorites were The Fat Girl, tub o' lard, fat frick. They weren't very creative or well thought out, but they sure did hurt. A lot. So much so that I would go back home and just shovel more in. I'd stuff myself like a turkey on Thanksgiving.

I would never do something like that now. A few years ago, I would be so happy to find out that they were making Eggs and Bacon for breakfast. But now, I'd feel like a pig for the rest of the day if I had so much as a nibble.

I greet my mother who was standing at the stove with a pan full of sizzling bacon in front of her. She smiles and says goodmorning. I just smile back, and grab a banana from the fruit bowl next to her.

"That's all your having?" She concerns.

I wince at her words. That's all you're going to eat? Your not going to have anymore? You have nothing on your plate! I hate when people say those things to me, cause yes, this is all I am going to eat, thanks for asking.

"Yep. Not that hungry."

I haven't been hungry in the mornings in such a long time, but I know if I don't eat something, I will regret it later by third period when my stomach is growling loud enough for the entire class to hear.

I peek at my phone in my hand. Still no word from him. Damn.

I step back to the hallway and stare down it. Ugh. And of course, Danny isn't up yet. I will be very late without him.

I stomp down the hallway and stop in front of his door. I consider the best way to go about waking him up. Perhaps, I violently bang on the door, or maybe, I go in there and jump right on top of him. But the banging will likely wake my dad, and the jumping requires too much effort, so I settle for quietly walking in and awaking him with a shake.

"Ughhrhhhrgh." He groans. "why-"

"Wakey wakey eggs and bakey. Rise and shine. Upsy daisy." I lazily pull on his arm and drag him out of his bed. His hands shoot forward and stop him from falling face first onto the wood floor. He huffs and bestows upon me a look. A look that simply and clearly says, 'why'. I smile deviously.

"Oh my I'm so sorry. Did I disturb your slumber, oh great one?"

He picks himself up and stares at me. When he actually stands up straight, he is about 6'2, so I have to look up to see him. I'm not very tall. 

"School time, asshat." I declare. "Not about to be late cuz' you overslept." I pat his arm.

"It's only six o'clock?! We have an hour!"

"May be so, but you take for fucking ever." I grin, and trot out of the room in  a triumph of victory. Standing in the hallway, I peer back into his dim lit room. He notices, and gives me the finger. I laugh. 

Maybe today will be a good day.