Blood Bound (Permanently ON-HOLD)

CHAPTER SEVEN; Groomed for Infidelity with Flower-Power.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Hatred observes with more care than love does.
- Mason Cooley.

Heath

As I wake up Tuesday morning – the second day of school – I try to figure out why I'm in such a bad mood. Waking up is never fun, and yet I can't help the frown marring my face as I scrub my teeth clean. I always brush my teeth with some sort of vengeance. My teeth were seriously screwed up when I was a kid, and I had to have braces for two and a half years. I got them off just before Freshman year. Still, some times I swear I can feel the bands in the back of my mouth, or the tiny slices on my lip from the metal.

I drag my feet around my room as I get dressed, pulling my jeans on and wrenching my T-shirt over my head. I don't bother with my hair, I never do. I don't gel it or style it... Ever. I just run my hands through it and hope for the best. As I kick clothes off my bedroom floor, hunting for clean socks, I wonder how girls can do it. I get tired of getting ready after I put my jeans on, how do they get their hair straight or curly and apply a full face of make-up?

It's something I'll never understand.

After successfully retrieving some socks, I slip my converse on and sling my back pack over my shoulder, whistling at Satan to leave the room with me. I stomp down the stairs, my bad mood travelling with me as I trudge into the kitchen. I fling the cupboards open and slam them closed as I tug out the necessities. Satan notices my mood, choosing to wisely curl up in the corner, though his huge mass takes over most of that side of the kitchen.

My kitchen has the theme of black and stainless steel. Everything in here is new, modern and sleek. Completely different to the rest of the house, with its walls lined with old portraits, it's grand double staircase and ancient crystal chandelier hanging in the foyer.

Yes, my home has a foyer.

The black is a theme throughout my house though, paired with dark red in most rooms, and dark blue in my bedroom. It casts some kind of dark aura around the place, making this huge, old house in the middle of the woods even more mysterious.

I swirl my spoon around in the bowl full of rainbow coloured milk and soggy cereal. It tastes like cardboard in my mouth, and I chew it with a disgusted look plastered on my face.

I don't usually wake up this pessimistic, but I just can't shake my foul mood. After practically throwing my bowl and spoon into the sink, I grab my bag and give Satan a nod of goodbye, not even bothering to rub his head like I do most mornings.

I slip into my car, shoving my keys in the ignition and doing a turn to drive down the long, windy gravel path lined with over grown grass on both sides. Nobody's cut that grass since Dad died, and he died well over a decade ago, which means there could be a jaguar in that grass for all we know.

I drive to school, trying not to think about my dad, but that's pointless. Whenever anything reminds me of the man, I always have to think about him. It's just an impulse, like I'm compelled. I can't remember him much, because all of my memories are twisted. I was so young when he died, that I don't know whether I'm actually remembering him, or am just remembering dreams and fantasies I made up about him.

I know a limited amount about my dad. I know his face, from our family picture in one of our hallways back home, but that's about it. I remember the hours I'd spend just sitting in front of it, staring up at the picture and wondering what secrets and thoughts and life hid in his mind. He looked like me, the similarities were undeniable, and maybe that's why my mother isn't as vile to me as she is to my brothers, but that's just a guess. We share the same shade of brown eyes, and I'm just as tall and broad as he was. Adam also shares a few similarities with him, though mine are the most noticeable. But Dad and Adam both share the same dark brown hair that's almost black and both share the lighter skin and bushy eyebrows.