Bringing Back Hallie

Bringing Back Hallie: Chapter Two

I swear this girl and a kitchen just do not match. Like at all. 

When I see what's happened, that she set the mixer setting way too high and poured way too much flour in the cookie dough bowl, I run over the outlet where the mixer is plugged in and basically rip it out of the wall. The room goes completely still for a while, Darla probably having her internal freak-out while I'm looking at her like she's crazy. How does someone even manage to have so many kitchen freak outs? 

"You okay?" I ask her after a few more moments of silence, hoping that she's not about to cry or something. I know how Darla can be; she's used to doing everything right and being perfect at everything, so not succeeding in something really hits her hard. 

It's one of the few problems I don't have. 

She nods solemnly while slowly starting to take a few steps away from the counter, acting as if the thing is on fire or something. Her big hazel eyes slowly start to water up and before I even know what I'm doing, I offer her up, "Hey, how about you make another batch and this time I help?" 

"That's okay," she says sadly, looking up at me almost like she's confused. "I heard you on the phone, go hang out with Jeanie." 

"That's not until later," I tell her, feeling somewhat bad that she thinks I'd really just jump at the chance to leave her here since Jeanie called. Does she really find me that awful and uncaring? I mean I know I'm not the best big sister in the world, but I still want her to think alright of me. But who am I kidding? My mom has probably poisoned her brain to hate me or find me terrible or something. "Come on, I'll just..." I go over to the fridge to grab some eggs for the next batch, but before I know it, Darla has pretty much started yelling at me. 

"No!" When I look over at her, she walks back to the fridge and slams the door shut, keeping me shielded away from it like I'll turn it to flames or something. She starts shaking her head frantically back and forth and says, "Just let me do it, okay? Just go out and drink and party or whatever you do all the time! I know you really don't want to be here!" 

What the hell...? I think silently to myself. I didn't do anything remotely wrong to her! All I did was ask her if she needed help and then basically volunteer myself to do something that I really didn't even want to do. But she's still going to freak out on me like I've been a total bitch or something? "Fine," I say, trying my hardest to swallow back the tears in my throat, "I won't help you then." 

"Awesome," she says tightly, turning away from where she's been facing me and then going to back to empty the huge bowl of dough into the garbage dispenser. 

And this is the curse. The curse of everyone underneath this fucking roof hating my guts. This is exhibit A right here. I've done nothing wrong to her, absolutely nothing, and yet she still finds the need to unleash on me like I'm the world's worst person. I don't know what I've done to make her hate me so much, hell for my entire family to hate me so much, and it drives me crazy.  

So that's why I just don't even deal with it anymore. That's why I go out all of the time with people who usually don't like me unless I'm drunk and funny. I do it to get away from the people who I actually care about, but who hate me in return. It hurts being around them so much when I know that all they want is for me to not exist. They'd all be so much happier if I wasn't here. 

With that depressing thought, I hurry out of the kitchen and then pound up the stairs and into my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. My little black pug dog Darko immediately jumps up at the sound, and even though he can't see me with his vision so messed up, he still has my scent so down pat that he knows exactly where to run to get to me. A sad smile gracing my lips-at least my dog loves me, right?-I pick him up and then curl him into my chest, closing my eyes against his soft fur.