Chapter Seven

I woke up to the sound of eggs being battered. The clunking of the spoon against the metal bowl was unbearable. It’s too early for this. The sun hasn’t even fully come up yet. I groan and pull the sheets over my head in attempt to go back to dream land.

Mom only wakes up this early when she gets a call in. She waitresses at the local diner for some extra cash. She will usually start at six in the morning and wont get home until two in the afternoon.

“Lindsey! Breakfast!” Mom shouts from the kitchen as the coffee maker beeps like a time bomb.

I pull the covers off my head. I prop myself up on my arms. Wait, I’m dead. I can’t eat. Mom’s footsteps are present as she makes her way to my room. Her footsteps are hard and heavy as if she were wearing steel boots. If I had a heart, it would be racing right now.

I feel like I’m in a horror movie. Her footsteps stop at the door. She stands there for what feels like a whole minute. What is she doing? She gently presses on my door. It inches open. Her head swings around the door.

“Way to freak me out, Mom.” I roll my eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t know if you were awake. Are you feeling okay? You’re as white as my albino brother, Sam.” She comes over and presses her hand against my forehead.

I think of a way to get out of breakfast, “My stomach isn’t feeling right.  Just leave my plate in the kitchen and I’ll eat it later.” I say while rubbing my stomach.

She looks at me funny. I think she knows I’m lying, “Well, okay. Feel better, honey.” She leans over and kisses my forehead. The bed squeaks as she gets up and leaves my room.

What if I did eat something? I’m not hungry, but what would happen? I go over to my mirror. My face has become a shade of white. My skin, thin and rough. My eyes , serious and a shade darker than usual. I apply a coating of liquid foundation to my face. That solves the pale problem.

Ernest. I run to my window. I search the driveway but there’s no sign of his green jeep. A smile runs across my face. I guess he wont be controlling my dead life now! 

I go into the kitchen. There, a plater of scrambled eggs with bacon and buttered toast is sitting on the table. A coffee cup awaits on the counter for me. It all doesn’t tempt me as it would if I were alive. I pick up a strip of bacon. I place it to my lips.

“Knock, knock, knock.”

I go over to the front door with the piece of bacon in my hand. It’s Ernest. Great, I think. I swing the door open. I stand with hand on hip. I give him a “What do you want look.”

His eyes widen as he looks at the bacon in my hand. “What’s wrong with you? You can’t eat!” He attempts to swat the bacon from my hand.

“I can and I will.” I say. The bacon enters my mouth.

Ernest tackles me to the ground. He’s now straddled on top of me. He plunges his fingers into my mouth and tries to get the bacon out. I bite him. Hard.

“F**k.” He looks at his fingers which are red and covered in salvia. I feel the bacon go down my throat. My eyebrows furry together and I use all my might to push him off of me. I’m now on top of him. I hold his arms on the floor.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You think you can control my life. Well, you can’t!” I snap. 

I see a shadow out of the corner of my eye. I turn my head. It’s Wil. He’s standing in my doorway with eyes wide open, “Am I interrupting you two?”

I get off Ernest. “It’s not what you think, Wil...Why are you here so early?” Concern rises in my voice.

Before Wil can answer, vomit projects from my mouth. My stomach is churning. I let out a painful cry. I bend over and clench my stomach. It feels like my stomach is burning. Wil rushes to get a garbage. I look at Ernest. He doesn’t say anything. Wil’s shaking. I know he hates throw up. He pats my back and holds my hair back as I continue to vomit. I begin shaking. I fall to the floor.

Ernest runs out the door. I close my eyes. I want the pain to leave. It’s unbearable. I continue shaking. All I can hear is ringing in my ears. Someone tilts up my head. An awful liquid enters my mouth. It taste like burning acid.

The ringing in my ears stop. I’m able to open my eyes but I decide to keep them shut.

Someone pats my back and brushes my hair. “It’s going to be all right.” A voice whispers. I can’t distinguish whose talking. Then, someone’s soft lips kisses my check.