I step out of my bed, and take a look in the mirror. I am tired. I soon remember that my sister and I have had a disagreement the night before.
I am in my school uniform still, I don't know why or what happened that has caused me to stay in my uniform, but I am in my uniform. Time is eleven fifty-eight at night, and so far there isn't a sound to be heard. Just the static, deafening, frightful sound of silence. I do not want to go back to sleep, I do not want to be haunted by that dream once more.
A dream in which every person you know has a reversed personality; if someone you know is an extremely gentle and kind person, they become wicked and horrifying, inhumane and immoral. Even the appearances are reversed, so much that you can't even recognize a person at times.
I sit in my desk chair. My stone cold eyes stare at the stone cold ceiling. Six hours... five hours... four hours... three hours... two hours... one hour. I lie here, waiting for the daylight. I have school, but I will not sleep. I will take this risk, I cannot sleep, I cannot relive that dream, and I cannot see those sights again.
Time is five fifty-eight in the morning, two minutes until the sleeping house is alive and busy with people; two minutes until the alarms go off, two minutes until... until I will have to at least see my sister. Going to the same school as her can be quite the problem.
I crawl out of bed, tired and weary and make my way downstairs to have something to eat. My sister looks at me and her eyes water as if she is about to cry. After everything that must have happened yesterday, comforting her could be futile. I cannot remember the details of the quarrel; I just know that we are not on good terms.
Shiro hesitantly walks up to me, holding a plate of fresh, roast potatoes. She looks away from me, places the plate on the coffee table and runs away without a word. I freeze. What could this mean? That was a dream. I'm very sure that was a dream. Anyhow, these potatoes shouldn't taste good if she's cooked them.
I take it upon myself to try the potatoes anyway. I nervously lift one to my mouth, as if it's poisoned. I take a small bite out of this starchy food and to my surprise, it actually tastes good. It tastes just like mother's roast potatoes, and just like...
Well I'm sure Shiro just learned how to cook, that's all, I mean she has been trying for years now, maybe her skills have improved. Yes, surely that's it. She learned how to cook. That dream couldn't be true, right?
My ears pick up the distant sound of a phone ringing; I steadily make my way to the source of the sound and lift the phone out of its holder.
"Hello?" I answer monotonously. (｡◝‿◜｡)
"Hello, dear. It's your mother, are you okay?" The voice on the other end speaks. (`⌒´)
"Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking. How have you been?" I reply as politely as I can. (｡◝‿◜｡)
I do not have a good relationship with my mother, I feel as though she is a complete stranger to me. She never seems to understand me and whenever I have a problem, she constantly dismisses me. She also doesn't live in the same house as me, she has left my sister and me to 'fend for ourselves' and so we grew up without a mother's love.
"I'm alright. Listen, I know I don't call you very often at all, but I'd like to hear your voice every so often and see how you're getting on." She speaks. (`⌒´)
"Why don't you come home?" I ask in a tormenting way. (｡◝‿◜｡)
"You know full well why I can't come home, I have to work so you two get a decent life, and I can't get any jobs close to home. Please stop asking me that." She replies, annoyed. (`⌒´)
"Okay, I apologize." (｡◝‿◜｡)
I do not want to create more problems for anyone else or myself. Apologizing is probably the best move I could have done at this point.
"You and Shiro have fallen out?" (`⌒´)
"How did you know? Do you call her every day or something?" I ask, slightly agitated. (｡◝‿◜｡)
I have always had this feeling of jealousy about my sister, as a child she seemed to get all the better things, all the love and care. I never used to be a good child, I was rather rebellious, but a parent should love a child regardless of behaviour, for it is the parents' fault that the child behaves badly that is, if the child behaves badly.
"Don't speak to your mother like that. I know you won't like it, but I do keep in contact with your sister regularly." she responds. (`⌒´)
"I don't want any more of this. I'm leaving." I say. (｡◝‿◜｡)
I am just about to hang up until my mother asks a mind provoking question.
"Have you heard the news? Our leader says he wants to declare war on the world." She asks then hangs up immediately. (`⌒´)