Interstellar

Chapter 1

TW: Swearing + Blood + Phobias

"GET YOUR LAZY FAT ASS OUT OF BED!" was the first thing I woke up to. My vision was blurry since I didn't have my glasses on, but I could see the vague figure of my aunt. I scrambled up quickly, adjusting my sleeping bag and slipping on my crooked glasses.

"Adora wants tea. Go make it. Now." She said the last part forcefully, which made me scramble over to the cabinet beside my sleeping bag and grab the jar of tea bags. I didn't want to lose my breakfast privileges. I was really hungry.

"What kind?" I asked, boiling a cup of water.

"Did I tell you that you could speak?" she yelled. It made me flinch, but I was used to it. I've been suffering from the same thing for seven years now. It wasn't that bad, though. I still have a roof over my head and food on my table, right?

I finish boiling the water and put in a random teabag, hoping Adora would like it. But then again, she didn't like anything I made for her.

"Hurry up!" my aunt yelled. I'd only been awake for five minutes, and she's already yelled at me four different times.

"Alright, relax. I'm done," I say, taking out the spoon and rinsing it out. My hands had little scars all over them, like stars in a night sky. There are too many to count, and half the time I don't even know how I got them. It's probably because I sleep on the kitchen floor. There are so many sharp bits and pieces down there.

I walk up the stairs, careful not to spill the tea. The last time that happened, I wasn't allowed to eat food for three days. "Adora?" I called, not sure where she was in this gigantic house.

"What do you want, bitch?" she spat out, peeking from her bedroom door.

"Your tea is here," I say, showing her the cup. She curled her lip in disgust.

"Ew, I don't want it. Get me a Starbucks or something. This isn't the 1800's," she says, scrolling through her phone and moving her jaw in a way that seemed like she was chewing gum, but it must've been a reflex. My aunt had trashed all the gum in the house because the amount she was chewing was eroding her teeth.

"Can't you get that yourself? I mean, all you do is sit around and make TikTok's," I said, which I realized was a bad idea only after I'd said it. 

"Excuse me!? Do you know how hard it is to perfect Tell Your Girlfriend while still looking as perfect as I usually do? Now go get me a Venti Caramel Mocha Frappuccino with whipped cream and a chocolate drizzle. And I want a pink stopper. Oh, and I forgot my Stanley at The Microwave. Pick it up for me," she walked back into her room, slamming her door.

The Microwave wasn't a microwave. It's the worst and best place invented. When I was little, my best friend Sharlotte and I would go into the little cubby spaces in our favorite library and read our favorite fantasy books. We brought a blanket to cover the hole so we could mark our territory and make sure no one came in.

The library was old, and so was the furniture. So, one day, while we were reading Harry Potter for the seventh time, I hit my head on the side of the cubby. A small hole opened, and when we peaked through it there was a large, empty room that begged for exploration. So, for about 5 months, we opened the hole, found a way to hide it, and decorated the cubby and room to make it the best reading spot ever.

It didn't stay a secret. Sharlotte had and still has a problem with keeping secrets. She told Angela. Angela told the whole school. It became a spot for parties, drugs, and hooking up. The Microwave- the code name that Sharlotte had come up with- no longer belonged to us. It was ruled by Angela and Adora, my horrible cousins.