letters to nyx

c h • 7

random fact: i got one portion of my hair coloured (red) once, i'm gonna colour it purple again after two months

*sorry for the grammatical errors, if any. feel free to correct me wherever necessary. constructive criticism is always appreciated.
happy reading
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skylar's pov
25.12.2015

"skylar!"
i groan and turn in my bed, tangling my limbs further with my sweaty sheets.
"skylar mercer!"
i sit up straight in my bed as i hear pounding on my front door, instinctively clutching my sheets close to my bare lower body.
"skylar mercer, you open up this door right now!" a firm, female voice booms through the door.
i roll my eyes before it strikes me-
"mom," i whisper, wide eyed.
the pounding resumes.
"shit shit shit shit," i panick, pulling on a pair of boxers and jeans over it. i splash my face and chest- which is strangely covered in eggnog (thanks to the christmas eve party i threw at my house), rinsing my mouth.
i throw my brightest, most festive looking red sweater on and speed walk towards the door.
i look down at myself before opening the door and sigh in satisfaction. "alright," i mutter to myself.
i grab the handle and swing the door open. "mother!" i exclaim, a bit too excitedly, throwing my arms around her immediately.
"skylar, merry christmas, son," my mom says, in the formal tone that i have gotten so accustomed to.
she pushes me off her gently and enters the house, looking around. this would be the first time she came to my house since i moved here, four years ago.
"oh!" she says, shocked. she quickly recovers though, plastering a sweet smile on her face. "what a wonderful house, skylar." i smile. "but i see you've got quite a lot of..." she scrunches up her nose, as one would do when smelling something foul. "cleaning to do."
"uh, yes," i say, still quite puzzled.
my mother rolls her eyes and throws her handbag on the couch. "sky, be a dear and grab my bags, will you?"
"oh, yeah, of course," i say, dragging her tremendous brown bag through the door.
"now, tell me, you do have groceries, don't you?" she asks me, looking around my house and peering into the kitchen, slightly disappointed.
i frown. i have half a mind to ask her whether she thinks i'm a neanderthal, but decide against it immediately, not too keen on having a screaming match with my mother for the first time i've seen her in three whole years. "yes, mother," i say through gritted teeth, putting on a strained smile- one she returns almost immediately.
"so, that's that," she says, clapping her hands together with what seems like excitement. i deepen my frown, feeling my eyebrows twitch up in confusion. is my mother actually excited to be with me? i shrug, thinking, well, that's certainly a first.
"son, i'll make you lunch and you can go..." she looks around again, as if she expected something to be different. but seeing as it was all still the same (and by that, i mean as if it had been hit by a storm), she breathes a great sigh. "clean up," she continues in a defeated tone.
i feel my face heat up as i jog to the kitchen and grab a plastic trash bag and run over to the kitchen, doing the needful there. my mother waits at the entrance to the kitchen, smiling at me occasionally (which, may i add, i find unusually odd).
as i'm taking the trash out the back, i hear my mom say something, but i don't quite catch it.
"what, mother?" i yell back.
"there is a mess on the lawn from the party you must have had here last night, sky," she answers, her voice seething with disappointment and borderline rage.
i had forgotten how much recklessness, frivolity and messes can upset my mother. she never did approve of my habits- which included drinking, partying, listening to loud music, coming home late and never cleaning up after myself. i suppose that is why i moved out of my house at such a young age (i had been 17, and still just going through my senior year in high school).
"i'm sorry, mother," i say as i walk past her in the kitchen, keeping my head down as i do so.
i hear her sigh and feel my stomach sink even lower.
i grab a black plastic trash bag on my way out and start picking stuff off the lawn- crushed red plastic cups that reek of beer, empty bottles of alcohol and whatnot.
my mother watches me from the kitchen window, which incidentally faces the lawn.
"you could have let me know, mother. i could have been better prepared," i risk saying to her, in an almost accusatory tone.
perhaps i had expected her to snap at me and yell a bit, but all she does say is, "i did."
"no," i say, stretching the word as much as i possibly can, narrowing my eyes correspondingly.
"sky, i am entirely positive that i did," she insists while chopping vegetables.
"no mother, you did not," i repeat slowly.
"maybe you just didn't look, sky," she says and looks up at me with a small, playful smile. "good god, don't you ever check your mailbox?"
i feel my eyes go wide. "mailbox?" i repeat. my mother nods her head with a small laugh. "do you mean to say you sent me a- a letter?"
"yes, sky, i most certainly did."
i laugh in disbelief at my mother's old-fashioned approach towards almost everything in life as i walk up to the abandoned, almost dilapidated mailbox, its blue paint peeling off.
as i try to force it open, it clicks that i need the key for this. i quickly reach into my pocket and pull out the key to my house, inserting it into the keyhole and, with great difficulty, turning it open.
the tiny lid(or whatever it is called, i'm not very familiar with these terms) creaks as it opens, to reveal about nine or ten letters all crammed in it.
i furrow my brows as i take them in my right hand carefully and walk inside the house, carrying the garbage bag in my left hand.
if mother has sent me only one letter, then what are these other letters? they could not be any bills, i had asked for them to be handed either directly to me or sent to me by email whenever possible. my mailman knows this.
last i checked this august, there had been no, and i do mean zero letters then.
"mother, have you been writing me any more letters?" i ask her as i get more and more curious, trying to look at these letters.
"no, why?"
"uh-huh, no particular reason, just asking," i lie quickly, not wanting to tell her, or anyone else, about these letters for some reason.
I amble up to my room, letting the bag fall onto the floor.
"sky, don't be so slow," mom reprimands me from the kitchen. "go put out the rubbish and come help me."
"right," i say and tuck the letters safely in my sock drawer.
"skyler!" my mother yells, quite shrilly.
"coming!" i bellow as i practically run out the back door to dump the trash.
i walk to the kitchen to help my mom- having caught only three words on the envelope of one of those unknown letters:
" lakeview rehabilitation centre ".

👅👅👅
i know this is confusing but i swear it gets better
do you guys like sky?
sky is played by *drum roll* ALEX PETTYFER
what more do you greedy hoes want huh
alex pettyfer omf
cιαο