Worldly Heirloom

De Loughrey

"Elizabeth I swear to God himself, if you are not down in one minute, you aren't getting any food for the whole day!" my mother yelled up the stairs.

I weakly groaned, unable to leave my bed. I wasn't hurt, or sick. I simply had no motivation.

My older sister Delane swung through my open door, and leaned against the doorframe.

"Liz, where'd you put my belt?" She said in an extremely bored tone. Delane was never fond of me, and she hated it whenever I borrowed anything from her. I already knew a storm was coming.

"You gotta be kidding me. Where the hell is my belt, Liz? Are you gonna talk at all?" Delane yelled.

I simply lifted my arm, and pointed near my window, where my jackets and belts were on silver hooks. I closed my eyes, because I didn't want to her see her famous eye-roll again. I could hear her footsteps stomp across my room, and the violent snap, as she yanked her belt from one of the hooks. Delane's footsteps then stomped out my door, and down the stairs.

I finally decided that I should get ready for school, regardless of the ten minutes l had left to get ready. My routine didn't take much time anyways; a little mascara, jeans and a hoodie. Oh, and roughly ripping a brush through my hair on the way out.

I was nervous to go downstairs. My mother wasn't holding up well at all, due to recent occurrences. She was constantly in a horrible mood, and this has been going on for two weeks.

Ever since the passing of my father, my family has completely morphed into something alien. His passing was due to an illness, I think. At least, that's what my mother told me. I don't remember my father being diagnosed with anything lethal. It all seemed so sudden, and it's taken quite the toll on me.

My depression has plummeted, and I can't find a way to climb out. I can barely stay awake during my classes, and my social life is slowly deteriorating.

As I made my way downstairs, I already heard my sister yelling.

"I don't want to hear about his god damn will if I'm not in it! If he only cares about Liz, then why am I still here?" Delane fumed.

She knew that our father and I got along extremely well. She's been jealous of it ever since we were little girls, but I knew she was that close with our mother. Delane never settles for what she has; she always has to have that one extra thing. It's influential in every aspect of her life: her looks, friends, clothes, and apparently parents. Delane and I are constantly head-to-head, and can never find common ground. Her attitude has gotten even worse with the loss of our father.

His name is Luca De Loughrey, but we've never called him that to his face. Therefor, we address him as father. Even mother does. Mothers name is Genevieve De Loughrey, but again, we call her mother. It's some form of respect, I figure. Delane and I have never called our parents 'mom and dad'. It has always been formal. Again, there's no particular reason, except respect.

As I descended down the steep staircase, I made a break for the door. I was trying to avoid my hostile mother. I reached for my backpack on the floor beside the door, and raced out behind Delane.