Bruises

2: wounds & texts

My feet clamber across the hard concrete leading up to the front door of my house. It's a two-story bricked house. The brick is a bold mahogany. The shingles on the sides of the slanted roof colored a splotchy gray are red. My hand rested over the knob as my other worked the individual key into the lock of the ruby red door. With a couple of shakes and twists, the lock is pulled outward and I pull the door open.

I step inside, my footsteps quiet.

I keep my bag slung over my shoulder and my phone tight in my grip as I sneakily traipse into the back of the first story of the house. The stove light was on, blurry red numbers blinking at me- everything else was shut off. The kitchen was mess, items thrown across the counter. I rumble up my face in disgust.

My sandals hit a shard of what must only be a beer bottle on the ground. I kneel down to get a low view of the mess as a whole. The little broken pieces trail all the way into the living room. I pinch the glass and turn it over in my fingertips, the sharp edge pricking my skin, a tiny bead of blood following. I stand up and wander through the dark house some more.

I walk from the kitchen to the living room, just a step away. My dad was thrown across the couch, heavy snores rattling from his body. I sighed in relief and shoved my back pack off. I slowly walked to his side. I placed my hand over his motionless body. He breathed softly, his breath warm and hinted with the smell of alcohol. Blood stained a cut that lie in his forehead. Prickly sensations washed over my body as I examined the wound he must given himself.

It was a shame that my father did this to himself. Not only to me, but to himself. Ever since the accident several years ago, his emotions went wild. He didn't know how to control them. So he drank. He drank to a point where he was driven insane, to alcoholism, and his existence shriveled down to an alcoholic. When he drank, he was entirely a monster.

I snatched a bandage from the bathroom on the lower level. I peeled the protective layer off and headed over to my crashed father once more. I applied medicine and other things that I had grabbed from the bathroom; I gently stuck the band-aid on his minute gash.

A warm throw blanket was tossed in the corner of the room. I grabbed it and placed it upon my father's passed out body. Peace was driven across his face. How a man could go from one extreme to another and back again, in one complete cycle, who knows. I brushed back a strand of hair that dangled in his face. He twitched twice then fell back to a restful state. I left him in the room by himself, not bothering to take care of the mess that was created in the kitchen.

***

I sat in my room, my wet hair wound in a braid and tossed across my back. The light brown hair was a solid dark brown after my long, hot shower. My face was clear of makeup. I wore black panties and an old baby blue t-shirt. My feet were bare, wiggling in the air as I sat upon my bed with my computer upon my lap.

The gentle moonlight sunk into my room through a tall window. My walls were a cream color, my carpet brown. My comforter was a turquoise shade. My pillows were a cream color, matching my walls. A throw blanket was placed neatly upon the bottom of my bed, folded and evenly placed over both sides. I had a walk in closet and a tall mirror hung inside. There were beautiful paintings hung upon my walls that matched my room theme. Sea shells hung in glasses upon cream brown shelves that clung on to my walls. Colored sand was also mixed in these jars. In the far corner of my room, away from my vanity and my nightstand was my desk. It was right next to my tall window. Upon the wide window sill was another throw blanket, this time zebra print with a couple of black pillows and a couple of stuffed animals.

I was watching YouTube videos when my phone buzzed against the wood of my nightstand. I reached for it with a grunt, seeing that a new message was sprawled across the screen of my smart phone.

Hey (:

The number that was paired with the message was not in my contacts. I cautiously texted them back.

Who is this?

I waited for a response. The little speech bubble indicating that the person was typing appeared on the bottom left hand corner of the screen.

Ayden Jones. This is Winter right?

My eyes grew wide as I read the text several times. I texted back slowly. How did he get my number?

Yeah.. How did you get my number?

The bubble popped up as soon as the message was sent.

Kat

I roll my eyes.

Why would she give you my number?

He responded:

I asked. But hey, you haven't even said hi to me yet!

I blushed lightly and giggled to myself. I texted back, my thumbs flying over the touch letters.

Hello Jones. Happy now?

He responded:

Very happy Smith. Now it's twelve, go to bed. Gnight cutie

I furrowed my eyebrows at the nickname he was generating for me.

Fine, fine. See you tomorrow Ayden

I cursed when I checked my alarm clock.

It was past midnight. I shut off my computer and plugged in my phone to charge. With butterflies in my stomach, I fell into a peaceful slumber.

A/N

Hey guys!

So you got to meet Winter's dad and got to see the texting side of Ayden. Like it? Love it? Hate it?

To be honest with you I think Ayden is just the cutest thing. I am finding pictures of the characters and he's just adorable. Anyways, haha.

Please vote, comment, and follow!

I may do like questions for each chapter or something idk...

Something like thiss...

QUESTION!

What do you guys think of Winter's father? What about Ayden?

Thanks!

XOXO