Undercooked
"I'M HOME."
My voice echoed off the walls. There was no answer. My parents weren't home. Relief washed over me as I walked into the kitchen. After placing my bag on the table, I walked over to the fridge. It was stocked to my luck. There was enough food to take some and have no one notice. Looking around, I noticed all the cabinets that were in the kitchen. Were they filled too?
I began opening them. There were four filled with glasses, plates, and bowls. The remaining six were filled with food. Non-perishable items. More faster than I thought I could move, my hands were filled with food and I was in my room, putting the food down, and going down to get more. Once finished with my mini raid, I moved the remaining cans and bags around so it looked as though nothing was taken out. Then hid the cans more carefully in my room, so my parents couldn't find them. It all took about ten minutes.
When I got back downstairs, it was time to do homework. Munching on crackers, I began. Deciding to go by my schedule, history was first. We had to write an outline on the first chapter. Then there was English, read a chapter of Hamlet. The book, thankfully enough, had been provided by the school. I decided to save that for later. Math was easy and science was simple.
The clock read five, and I knew my parents would be home soon. I gathered my books and went up to my room. Standing in the doorway, I took in what was around me. The room was painted a dull pink color, which was very unappealing to the eye. There was one window, and under the window laid a blanket. That was my poor excuse for a bed. There was one bedside lamp next to the blanket and a tall lamp over in the far corner. Next to the tall lamp there was a wooden chair. On the other side of the room, there were two cardboard boxes of clothes. The floor was a hard wood and it was worn.
I placed my bag down by the door and walked over to the window. The view was nice. You could see all the house tops, and the green yards below. Wooden fences separated the yards and in some backyards you could see swing sets. On one of the far off corners there was a playground. It had a jungle gym and many swings. Parents were taking their children there. Because it was so far away, their expressions could not be seen. My hands touched the wooden frame, my eyes following. When I found the lock, I saw if it was unlock able. It was. Slowly, I lifted the window and the sounds of laugher filled my room. My cheeks got warm from the children's happiness. At least they could be happy with their family, maybe the whole world wasn't bad.
The sound of a car engine cutting off pierced my ears. My head spun around to the front of the house. My parents were home. I slid the window down and locked it. Pressing my back to the wall, I crept down slowly until I was sitting on the floor. My breath caught up when the front door opened and slammed shut.
They were angry.
It was never good when they were angry. Throughout all my years of having them as parents, I had begun to realize their traits. If they came in and closed the door, they were in a good mood. They wont do much on nights like that. Then there was the casual door slam. It was moderately loud, but if you weren't listening then you'd never hear it. Those nights, they were moderately abusive. But nights like tonight, were the worse. They either used their brains to rack something that no one would ever think of, or just hit the whole night. Those nights, nights like these, I don't put up a fight. It doesn't help at all. It only makes things worse.
One thing I could appreciate though, was they were very clean. They didn't do anything that someone could blame them for. They were crafty in that way. That was probably why I excelled in arts.
They were in the kitchen now. The sounds of pots and pans clashing together gave them away. I nuzzled my body on the blanket and rested my head on the pillow. My eyes were facing the door to the hallway. My door was cracked. I would have shut and locked it, but my parents had gotten to the lock last night. It didn't work anymore. As I began falling asleep something caught my attention.
"Julia! Dinner is ready! Come down now!"
My mother was screaming at the top of her lungs for me to get downstairs to the kitchen. I couldn't understand. What were they going to do. I knew they were mad. But dinner didn't make sense. Slowly, I went to the stairs and took each step at a time.
"Mom?" I asked at the bottom of the stairs. My voice shaking.
"Your food is on the table. We're waiting for you." she said joyfully.
They were hiding something. I went to the kitchen and sat down at the table. Looking at the food, you could tell what was wrong with it. They were eating some kind of beef, but theirs were a totally different color than mine. The beef was a grayish color and looked cold. Like a rock.
"Well?" she began. "Aren't you going to eat?"
"Um. I'm not really hungry." I whispered out.
"Oh come now. It taste delicious."
I looked over to her meat. It was colored nicely. The right color it was supposed to be.
"No. Really. I'm not hungry."
My father's fist dropped down on the table.
"You'll eat, and like it. We paid for that food." he threatened.
"Right…" my voice trailed off.
There was no getting out of it. Now that I was down here, they wouldn't let me go until the plate was clean. I took the fork and placed it into the meat and brought up a bite. When it came close to my nose, the scent invaded me. It was the worst smelling thing that could ever be smelt and my sense of smell was weak. I had to get this over with, or each bite would be torture. I stuck the meat in my mouth. It was cold and hard just as I had imagined it to be. With out chewing, I swallowed and went to the next bite.
I ate quickly. But even so, my stomach was unsettled. It tossed with each un-chewed bite. When I was finished, a large smile was painted on each of their faces.
"Hope you sleep well." my mother dismissed me from the table.
My feet pushed the ground and the chair slid slowly on the floor. After taking a few steps, my stomach was beginning to take over. But I couldn't throw up right there, it would give them to much satisfaction. I placed my hand to my mouth, to calm my senses, then went upstairs. Once upstairs, I jolted to the bathroom. It came up fast, the remains leaving sour taste in my mouth. When the water was running, I place my mouth to the faucet and spat out what was left. Cupping my hands, they were filled with water that was splashed on my face. I was going to be sick. Food poisoning. I took a bath, and changed into some old pajamas.
After reading, I flung and old blanket over me. My face was close to the wall, and I could see the stars through the window. Laughter could be heard from downstairs. I knew I should hate them, but I couldn't. They never wanted me. It was like we had no connection at all. It would be wrong to hate them. I didn't know them and they didn't know me. I could have been some other person on the street to them. They gave me a home, shelter. They might not be the best hostesses, but it was better than living on the street.
Sleep wasn't coming easy tonight. My stomach was still turning. Then he was there. Not really there, but in my mind. I hadn't thought of him since school. But thinking of how my body felt right now, his cold touch came into my mind. That brought me rest. That, or the sickness was finally kicking into my mind.