Trails

Chapter 1: The Big Bang

I woke up to the sound of the alarm clock buzzing on my top drawer.

"Ugh," I groaned, covering my ears with my pillow.

"Shut up, you stupid clock!"

The noise echoed through the blue walls of my bedroom. With a swing of my arm, I punched the Off button with my fist and squeezed my eyes shut.

Without any warning, Mom's voice appeared like a school announcement.

"Cole," Mom called. "Come downstairs, breakfast is ready!"

Moaning, I crawled out of bed and took a good look at my mirror. My ombre hair is messy, drool peeked out of the corner of my mouth, and I was covered in sweat.

Brushing the creases off of my red pajamas, I walked over to the bathroom. Turning the water on, I squirted a glob of minty green toothpaste across my brush and scrubbed it across my opaque teeth.

"Cole!" Mom called again.

I spat out the toothpaste into the sink and quickly washed my face.

"I'm coming!" I yelled. "Just give me a minute!"

Sighing, I dried my head with a towel and raced downstairs. As soon as I came across the kitchen, I saw Mom in the kitchen, putting final touches on her pancake.

She had blond hair, buttermilk skin, and baby blue eyes. Green paint slathered on her pink nails. She wore a frilly yellow blouse, black slacks, and black high heels.

"You look beautiful, Mom." I complimented, "So, where are you off to this early?"

Mom turned off the fire and glanced at me. "Emergency meeting in San Francisco Chronicle." she says, putting the frying pan in the sink.

"Let's hurry and eat before it gets cold. I had already set the table for you."

I nodded slowly then headed over to the dining room, which was just behind the kitchen walls.

The table had light brown skin, like mine, except the fact that it didn't have my freckles, olive brown eyes, and black Chinese tattoos on the left side of its back.

The table was draped in silky white cloth, where plates of food, drinks, and silverware rested against it. I was just about to sit down, until I noticed a third plate sitting across from Mom's.

"Mom," I began. "Why did you make another plate of breakfast? Is someone coming here to visit?"

Just then, someone pounded on the door. Mom stopped lingering in the kitchen and hurried to answer it.

Her eyebrows rose in a shocking way then allowed the visitor to come inside.

"Hello Cole," said a familiar voice. "Long time, no see."

I looked up to see my father, wearing tattered prison orange clothes, handcuffs, and white tennis sneakers.

He had light brown skin, dark hair sprouting on his face, and dirt clinging under his fingernails.

The minute I saw him, I grabbed the knife sitting next to the fork, shoved Dad against the door, and lowered the blade under his neck.

Mom looked at me as if I was insane.

"Young lady!" she cried. "What are you doing to your father?"

"Stay back, Mom!" I instructed. "Call the police!"

Dad gave me a calm smile and tells me to lower the knife.

"Why?" I shrieked. "So you can attack me again?"

"Cole, I am a changed man." Dad insisted. "Really, these charades you're playing are getting on my nerves."

"Like your secret poker games?" I teased. "How's Dennis these days? Have you found another slut to lie, cheat, and steal from?"

Dad gave me a stern look, before my mother grabbed my arm and urge me to stop acting like a stubborn child.

"But Mom-" I began. "Why are you doing this?"

"You hate Dad as much as me-"

"I could see why your father is right," Mom sighed, shaking her head.

"You really are the most ignorant freak I have ever had."

I swallowed a gulp and blinked my watery eyes at her.

"He is not my father!" I screamed. "He is a criminal."

"And yet you let Zack kill himself," Mom insisted. "You put yourself first instead of me. What kind of daughter are you?"

"Hell, I shouldn't even call you my daughter."

I bit my lip then stared at the hardwood floor. Suddenly, there was another doorbell echoed against the dining room.

"There is another guest, Willow." Dad said. "Should we answer it?"

Mom gave him a warm smile, rudely pushed me out of her way, and answered the door.

"Am I late for breakfast?" another reminiscent voice ask.

Mom shook her head and allowed the stranger to come inside. The man had a dark suit, black shoes, and red handkerchief stuffed inside his breastpocket.

The stranger's brown hair was combed to the side, haunting dark eyes, and a handsome smile. The most creepiest thing about him is that there was a huge bullet hole in the center of his forehead.

"Oh my gosh," I breathed. "Zack, is that you?" The boy stepped inside the house and gave me a vindictive smile.

"Hello Beautiful," he greeted. "I missed you from Hell. Did you miss me?"

Scared, I literally jumped out of my bed and gazed into the brink of darkness. My heart let out an aching pound as I begin to take deep breaths.

My excitement turn into anxiety, looking down at my silky purple bed covers, at my arms to see if I was bleeding. It was just a dream, another stupid dream. I thought.

I shook out my messy brown curls and straightened out my sweaty red tank top. Just then, Ben rose up from his sleep and asked me what was wrong.

He wore his favorite gray t-shirt and black plaid pajama pants. He had dark brown hair, green eyes, freckles, and pale skin.

Ben always like to sleep in my bedroom; every night, he sneaks into my bedroom window and we talk about things, such as: school, books, and our nightmares.

We talk until we get tired and sleep throughout the night.

"Are you alright?" Ben asked.

"Yeah," I answered. "It's just a bad dream."

He gave me a confused look, but didn't press for more details.

"Okay," he replied. "Just go back to sleep. We'll talk about it in the morning."

I nodded and watched my smart best friend snoozing peacefully on the left side of my bed.

"Goodnight, Irene." Ben mumbled.

"You too, Sherlock Holmes." I whispered back, curling next to him.