savior || luke hemmings

ch. 2

I sigh as I kick off my black and white checkered Vans, shutting the door to my house. I toss my bags on the floor, relieved that it was Friday and another week in hell was over. 

I walked into the kitchen and head straight for the freezer, pulling out a bag of chicken nuggets. I walked oven and pressed the correct temperature so the oven can preheat. As I wait, I rearrange the frozen chicken on a pan and hurry back to the fridge to grab a can of Sprite. When the oven beeps, I slide the pan into the oven and plop myself down at the kitchen table.

Wrapping my fingers against the wooden surface, I think about the therapy session that is tonight. Liz seemed so happy when she told me about it. I'd feel extremely guilty if I didn't go; Liz has tried to help me so much this is the least I could do for her.

I get up and check my nuggets, sure enough they're done. I take them out and carefully put them onto a dish, squirting ketchup on the side before heading into my room.

I hurriedly walk up the stairs, shoving the bite size nuggets into my mouth. I push open my door with my foot and place the dish on my desk before walking over to my closet.

Sliding the closet doors to the side, I stare. And I stare for a while. I hate every article of clothing I have and deem none of the acceptable to wear to a place where I might make new friends.

I look down at the jeans I have on, figuring they'd have to do. I push clothes from side one side of my closet to the other, trying to find a decent enough shirt. I finally settle on a floral cropped tee and my black cardigan. I strip off the shirt I wore to school and put on the other articles of clothing. I take out my black Steve Madden combat boots and toss them near my bed.

I decide that I needed to refresh my makeup and head over to my vanity. I use the makeup remover cloths to take off whatever I had on already and pull open my makeup drawer, taking out the necessities.

I paint my face in my FIT liquid foundation and swipe on some Rose Radiance blush, giving my already rosy cheeks a nice shine. I carefully draw black lines on my lower lash lines, finishing off with a magnifying mascara. I swipe some red gloss across my lips and place my black beanie on my head, adjusting my wavy red hair.

Walking over to my bed, I sit on the ledge and slip on my boots, tying them at the ankle for a unique look. With one last look in my mirror, I head back downstairs.

My nana is home at this point, restocking the cabinets with no doubt all my favorite food. I bounce over to her and quickly peck her on the cheek, startling her a bit.

"Vera, you trying to give me a scare?" She laughs as she places a carton of eggs in the fridge.

I laugh along with her as I grab a bottle of water from the fridge, sitting at the kitchen table. I watch as my grandmother scurries around the kitchen, preparing for dinner. As she does this, I take in the sight of the strong woman in front of me.

She's no taller than I am and couldn't weigh anything more than a hundred and ten pounds but she is the toughest lady I know. She's beaten breast cancer twice, lost a son during Operation Desert Storm and nearly lost my grandfather a couple of months ago when he had a terrible heart attack. Her once dark, red hair is now a dull gray but her bright hazel eyes shine as radiant as ever.

As my grandfather enters the kitchen, more shopping bags in tow, my attention shifts over to him. He's as handsome as he was back when he was a young sailor in his twenties; his black hair still as dark as a raven, his green eyes like the clearest of emeralds.

I watch as he places the bags on the counter and walks up to my grandmother, stealing a quick kiss. My mind instantly flashes to the stories I've heard about how they met. It was Fleet Week, 1963. Grandpa was a young sailor, grandma was with a bunch of his friends visiting his ship. They locked eyes and have been in love ever since.