equinox [h.s]

six

I wake up alone.

The right side of the bed is nicely tucked in, pillow fluffed, no evidence of there ever a person laying there.

I notice this as my eyes peel open and I'm facing the opposite way to where I'd first fallen asleep. The morning light splays through the closed curtain, stretching through its edges. Making me shut my eyes instantly and groaning out into the emptiness of my room.

Turning to the opposite side, I whip the covers off me quickly in hopes to not let the action linger. If I did, I'd be under them all day. No doubt missing my classes. And that's something that I don't plan to do. Not yet. Not today. So I let my feet settle into the soft carpet as I contemplate my being — a morning, and daily ritual.

Sulking my way out of my room and into the hallway, I use the toilet, then make my way into the bathroom. The girl staring back looks dreadful. Hair a mess and eyes lifeless. I do what I do every morning before class. Wash my face. Brush my teeth. Re-do my hair. Spray some deodorant. Dab my wrists and neck with perfume. Keep contemplating.

"Done with the bathroom?" The consistent knocking on the door belongs to Sonnet, no other. I know this not only because she's spoken, but because she does this most mornings.

My eyes roll as they often do, "I've literally just got in here." I yell back, smoothening the tiniest bit of moisturiser on my face until it seeps in.

The bathroom door doesn't have a lock — an absurd decision. And so the knob twists and in Sonnet walks, her pj's crinkled, "Doesn't matter all that much, hey? I've got what you've got. You've got what I've got. Ain't nothing we haven't seen before." She shrugs, beginning her own routine, much like the one I'd almost finished.

"I'm not naked." I deadpan, drying my hands with the small towel.

She shrugs again, "Just saying, in case you were."

"Well thank god, you weirdo."

"Oh shut the fuck up, I'm not weird." Her brows narrow as she looks at me through the mirror.

I move forward the half open door, "Debatable."

She huffs loudly this time, bent over the sink and face half engulfed in water, "You've got tits, I've got tits, it's the same deal."

Just as the words leave her lips, a tall shadowy presence settles before me. I turn my head, meeting eyes exactly like mine, "I don't even wanna know." Dad says with his eyes going back and forth between Sonnet and me, his hands out in defence.

Sonnet's looking wide eyed through the mirror as she cackles out in a laugh. I turn back to face dad, a hint of a smirk on his lips. "She's your daughter." I say to him, shoulders rising and falling.

"She's your sister." He says, "And your hers. I feel sorry for you both."

My mouth falls open, "You can't say that. You're our Dad. That's not nice."

He grins as he says, "Life's not nice, sweetheart. That's just how it is." With a huff, he still blocks the doorway, "Alright, well, I'm off. No trouble today." He points to me first, then Sonnet. I decide not to take offence.

"Cya, Dad. You go get those biker bad boys." I slide my hands around his middle and lay my head on his chest. "Appreciate the hug, Beatrix. Not the sarcasm." He speaks and I feel it as it reverberates from his chest.

I smirk, letting go. Sonnet gives a wave and a, "Byeee, Father!" And dad looks too fed up with us already. He nods, swivels around, and marches his heavy boots away and back down the stairs.

Leaving the bathroom, I coast over to my room once again, picking out the clothes. Another day, another leotard, another class. Another. Another. It seems that I've fallen into the pits of repetition. The thought is scary. Though not as scary as seeing others around you actually doing something with their lives. Leaving me behind. But that's not right to think, is it? It's not their fault. It's not.