Silver (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 7

Grayson's POV

This is what I wake up to, every fucking school day:

"Graaaayson it's 5:47 you overslept come on you gotta make breakfast and free up the bathrooms for the other kids and prepare the lunches Jesus Grayson this room isn't going to fix itself- " cue pause in Aunt Cecilia's rant to throw my covers off of me- "and you gotta wake everyone up too come on now Grayson get up hup hup hup hup!"

This is what I get instead of an alarm clock, at 5:45 AM Monday to Friday. I wish I had that annoying shit of an alarm clock instead, compared to her rambling in the morning.

I grumble and cover my head with my pillow, my bare legs feeling the draft of cold air. "No." It was 5:47 AM. No one wakes up at this goddamn ungodly hour.

"Come on, Grayson!" Aunt Cecilia throws the curtains back and admires the dark sky, whistling as she scurries around my room, picking up my clothes. "People aren't going to feed themselves, you know! We have people to feed!"

As far as I’m concerned, people can go fucking feed themselves. It doesn’t take half a brain to pour a bowl of cereal, does it?

“Go away,” I grumble, curling up into a little ball and burying my head into a pillow. I had fallen asleep at 2 AM last night, after that shitload of homework, after washing every single fucking dish and mopping the goddamn kitchen floor, and to be quite frank, I was pretty sure I’d pass out in class today.

Or not. It was the first Monday of the month. You know what that means.

“Grayson, get up. Come on. I need you to help me prepare breakfast,” Aunt Cecilia scurries around my room, picking up dirty laundry that I had thrown on the floor. “Hurry up!”

“No.” I want to go back to my fucking dream. I want to keep sleeping.

I want to return to that dream where I’m out by the silver lake with Blaire, on a picnic blanket at night, stargazing. That’s where I want to be.

Not in this shitty excuse for reality, in which I am basically everyone’s maid.

“Hurry up!” Aunt Cecilia does the unthinkable and flicks on my light, blinding my eyes as she slams the door behind her.

“Fuck you!” I yell, groaning and rolling over. I feel that tingle in my mind, the tingle that tells me I need a cigarette, but I brush it off and take a shower instead. I can’t afford to use up my supply, because as of now, money for me is scarce.

“Graaaaaaaayson!” Talia hollers, banging on the door. It’s been ten minutes, and I’ve still got shampoo in my hair. “You better open the door boy, or you better run!”

“I’m taking a fucking shower!” I snap, trying to get out the shampoo as fast as I can. Because if I don’t, Talia’s going to go tell Aunt Cecilia. And everything will be my fault. Again.

“Boy,” Talia snaps, banging on the door with her fist, “If you don’t come out in ten seconds, I be coming in, whether you naked or not. Ten…” Talia starts to count down, and I know that she’ll do it. She’s done it before.

“Nine…” I wrap a towel around my lower midsection and turn off the tap, sending hate daggers at the door.

“Eight...sevensixfive…”

“Bitch!” I fling it open, and the door smacks her in the face. “Happy now, you slut?”

“You better not have bruised my face, boy,” Talia rubs her cheek, flipping me off. “And you bet not have used my hair straightener, boy.” She slams the door behind her, and I’m gritting my teeth so hard, I’m pretty sure that one of my fucking incisors will pop off.