THALIA
When a woman dressed in a black suit approached me on a train track, whilst I was holding a bottle of blue spray paint in my left hand and a face covered with paint, I didn't hesitate to say no to her proposition:
BE HER BRIDESMAID AT HER WE...
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"Beep"
"Beep"
"Beep"
"SOMEONE TURN THAT GODDAM ALARM OFF!" Someone shouts from the other side of the wall.
I groan into my duvet, eyes still shut.
"I SAID-"
"I FUCKING KNOW, ALL RIGHT?" I shout back at the voice, I'm pretty sure, which belongs to Theresa.
I grab my phone off of the floor and turn the alarm off. Collapsing back onto my mattress. But I'm already too awake to go back to sleep. Mother Theresa and that screechy voice of hers.
The door bursts open, Jimmy, my carer standing in the doorway with an alarmed expression painted across his features.
"Up, T."
"Fuck off, Jimmy." I groan, rubbing my eyes.
I hear him storm towards me, the wooden floorboards creaking with every step he takes.
I squint, the sun blinding me.
When I'm rich, the first thing I'm going to buy is fucking curtains.
Jimmy towers over me, hands on his hips. "Up, now."
I sigh, going to complain before Jimmy pulls me out of bed, a little too hard as I fall onto the floor right onto my non-existent ass cheeks.
"Jimmy!" I groan, sending him a glare.
"I warned ya sugar." He shakes his head, sending me a glare. "Get dressed. Into anything but those goddam joggers and hoodie. You've worn the same thing seven days in a row, Thalia."
I stand up, soothing my ass cheeks. "Sorry, Jim, but we don't exactly have much running water in this old house. Meaning I can't wash my clothes."
"You could wash them in the sink." He says, crossing his arms like he's caught me out.
"No running water. Which means the tap as well as the shower as well as the washing machine." I say, widening my eyes to say dumbass.
He just blows out a breath, causing the strands of hair that fall over his forehead to blow up. "Just get changed, they seem like they have money downstairs."
I want to ram my head into the wall.
Jimmy storms out the room, slamming my half-broken door behind him.
Jimmy knows, I know, and everyone else on this planet knows that it doesn't matter who the hell walks through that front door. They will not want to keep me. They never, ever do.
I throw on my black joggers and grey hoodie that are on the floor, I'd like to say it's to spite Jimmy, but really it's because one of the kids stole all my other clothes.
