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Brm! Brm! Brm! Brm! Brm! Brm!
My hand slammed against my cell phone, and I didn’t know if I’d snoozed the alarm or turned it off. Either way, I rolled over, burying myself underneath the covers as I drifted back to sleep. I didn’t struggle with sleep, either. All my body wanted to do was sleep. Sleep, cry, and sleep some more. I didn’t want to do homework. I didn’t give a shit about classes. Day two of absolute misery, and it threatened to swallow the whole of my future.
Because I didn’t even give a shit about graphic design anymore.
I hadn’t drawn in days. Which was unheard of. There were no doodles in the margins of my notes and textbooks. Mostly because I wasn’t cracking open my textbooks or taking notes in class. There were no faint pen outlines on my arms of doodles I’d done before and after school. Because it took too much energy to pick up that pen. To trace those lines. To come up with an image I wanted to draw.
I was scared I’d end up drawing Clint’s face everywhere.
Brm! Brm! Brm! Brm! Brm! Brm!
“Fucking alarm.”
I slammed my hand against my phone again before a knock came at my door. I threw the covers off my head, my hair falling into my face. I blew at the tendrils, slowly working them out of my vision. And as I heaved a heavy sigh, I heard my mother’s voice through the door.
“It’s time to get up, honey. You have to leave in twenty minutes.”
I sighed. “Great.”
I threw the covers off my body and slowly eased myself out of bed. Every step I took, I groaned. Every time I lifted my arms, I grunted. I hadn’t even bothered to change into pajamas last night. I still wore the clothes I’d worn to that dumbass sushi dinner. And they stank. I wrinkled my nose as I tossed them into the hamper, knowing damn good and well I’d have to do laundry after school today.
Then I shuffled to the bathroom in nothing but my underwear.
I cleaned myself up and splashed water in my face. I washed myself down with a soapy washcloth at the sink before drying myself off. I’d be late to school, but I didn’t care. First time for everything, I guess. I slathered on the deodorant and threw my hair into a messy bun. I didn’t have time to do anything else with it. Like wash it.
“Rae?”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m coming, Mom.”
“Just making sure you’re up.”
I threw on some clothes and made my way downstairs, hoping beyond all hope I didn’t stink. I’d have to change my bedsheets, too. But that could be left for another time. The smell of breakfast wafted up my nose. Bacon and pancakes, which only meant one thing.
“Morning, tiger.”
Fucking D.J. “Morning.”
Mom smiled. “You sleep well?”
I snickered. “Sure.”
D.J. slid me a glass of orange juice. “Your mother asked you a question. You don’t have to cock such an attitude.”
I pushed the glass away. “When are you going to get it through your head that I’m not your daughter?”
“Rae.”
“I’m just trying to be a help to her. And I know she needs help with you sometimes.”
“D.J.!”
I scoffed. “Yeah, whatever.”
D.J. stabbed at his pancakes. “I care for your mother. I’ll be around f
or a while. We might as well both get used to it.”
“Oh, really? So, do you frequently beat on and bruise up things you care about?”
