I whimper as I sit there in the dark closet. My mother had sat me in here to hide me from my father, his friend, and his brother. They were outside our house with guns, trying to get in. My mother had quickly given me her cell phone, the screen showed an ongoing call. She told me to tell the nice woman on the line everything that I could hear and see. I nodded and she left, leaving me to explain everything to the woman, Katerina. I told her that I could hear gunshots downstairs, a lot of yelling, a lot of swearing, and screaming, too. The last thing I hear my mother's voice yell is, "I love you, Cayla!" before a gunshot, a lot louder than the rest begins creating a ringing sound in my ears. Blood begins to seep under the door and turning the white carpet floor of the walk-in closet a deep and scary red color. The smell of rust and salt fills my nose as the door of the closet whips open, the shadows it creates hiding me as I see -
I jerk awake from my dream, my memory when I hear my alarm play a random Panic! At The Disco song. The music is loud and full of sudden noises that help to pull me out of any complex sleeping state I had fallen into. I honestly have no choice but to wake when that music gives me a heart attack every morning. I glare at the Californian sunlight entering my room through the balcony connected to my bedroom that faces the ocean. Sitting up, I turn my head to look at my bedside table., and tap at my phone screen a few times to try and effectively get the music to stop. When I finally manage to do so, I check the time and see I have plenty of time to get ready for my first day of the school year, despite having had a nightmare.
Usually, when I have the nightmares of my childhood when I still lived in Australia, I am unable to get a good night's rest and become more of a zombie rather than my usual well rested wallflower persona.
My laptop, across the room and on my desk, comes to life with a light sound as an IM comes through. It's my only friend, Leo Calicchio.
What are you wearing today? He sends.
Don't know yet. I just woke up and I still need to shower. I reply.
Nightmares?
Yeah. BRB.
I step away from my desk and walk to my personal bathroom to start my shower. While the water runs, turning from freezing cold to a perfectly warm, I go to my long closet. It's not long at length, by the way, it's long in width. As I examine my clothes, I feel happy that I love in this part of California. See, it's almost always hot in this part of the state, so the school dress codes aren't strict, if existent at all. This leaves me a lot of options.
I tap my foot lightly on my Santos mahogany floors as I view my options in my closet. I decide on a white T-shirt, a camo-green skirt, black ankle boots, and an elastic black belt to make the shirt and skirt look more like a dress. I lay the clothes on my bed and slip out of my pajamas and walk into my shower. I shower as quick as I can while still taking the time to make sure I smell like mimosa and orange blossoms. After drying my body and blow drying my hair, I tie my champagne blonde hair up in a bun atop my head, allowing some strands to stay loose and frame my heart shaped face.
Ahem! Clothes?! Leo types impatiently. I chuckle even though he cannot hear me.
White tee, camo green skirt, black elastic belt, black ankle boots.
Which boots?
The ones that don't have a 2-inch heel, and not the ones that are suede.
Good choice. Good choice, grasshopper.
Freak. Your feminism is showing.
Wallflower.
At least I acknowledge it!
I acknowledge my gayness!
Whatever, I need to go see if Adeline is awake. TTYL @ school
Kk
And with that, I close my laptop. I sigh and walk downstairs. I'm 17 now, and Adeline is the woman who adopted me 4 years ago after being her foster child for 4 months. I smile when I see her in the kitchen making French toast for breakfast. I think the thing I am most thankful for when it comes to Adeline, it's that she's young. In her late 20's, so she still understands my high school struggles. Also, we look really similar. So, most simply assume she's my sister who has custody over me. She and I are so similar in height, looks, and just, in general, are...similar.
"Hey, good morning," she greets with a happy smile.
"'morning, Adeline," I greet, happy that my Australian accent makes me different than Adeline in my own unique way. I give her a similar smile. "How long have you been up?"
"Not long," she assures me and hands me a plate with two slices of French toast drenched in homemade syrup.
One of the ways Adeline and I bonded in those 4 months before my adoption was by her teaching me all she knew about cooking and baking, which was a lot. She also had to home school me to get me back on track with other kids my age.
I accept the plate and walk over to the circular kitchen table we always eat at. There are 5 seats at the table, but usually it's only me and Adeline. On Mondays and Thursdays, Leo and his parents come to eat dinner with Adeline and I. Whether is be out at a restaurant or at our house. Sometimes their home.
As I eat, I notice that Adeline is dress in a maroon pencil skirt with a matching maroon blazer, a black blouse, and black pumps. "Work today?" I ask.
She nods and comes to sit at the table with me and eat her own French toast. She pushes a tubaware container my way with some French toast in it. "We both know that Leo somehow manages to leave home without eating so give that to him for me, alright?" She asks, and I nod. I take her plate and mine when we both finish to the sink for us to wash later.
Adeline teaches at the local junior high school, so she leaves for work around the time I need to be leaving for the high school so she taxis me to and from school due to the short distance between the junior high school and the high school. So, as soon as we are both ready to leave and have everything we'll need for tomorrow, we're off. I do my best to push the memories of my biological mother doing these same things with me out of my head.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
