The Night Children

Chapter 5

Edited

"Mum?" I called, knocking loudly against her locked door. I glanced down at my watch, a frown piercing my lips. "Mum come on, its ten o'clock in the morning. You need to get out of bed."

There was an inaudible response which only made my skin prickle with annoyance. I suppressed a sigh and retrieved the butter knife I had placed at the ready in the kitchen. Using it to unlock the door, I then discarded it with a clatter.

As soon as I entered the room, I was hit with the smell of stale air and musky clothes. Crinkling my nose in disgust, I blinked to adjust my eyes to the abrupt darkness. Clothes were chucked carelessly around the room, collecting into large piles that reeked of body odour. Water bottles littered the floor, some wrinkled to hint they had been stepped on. The curtains had been pulled over the large window on the left of the room, a tiny slice of sunlight just touching the rim of the roof.

I turned to the mound of blankets that I knew was Mum, picking my way through various objects to reach her. Her breathing wasn't heavy, so I knew she was awake, her stillness an indicator she hoped I would give up and walk away. But I was used to her tricks, and now I had grown tired of them.

"Mum, get up." I said sharply, my voice edged with irritation. My sympathy had drained up, along with what little wages I had earned this week. While she locked herself up in a breezeless room, I had to ensure the electricity bill was paid off.

Mum remained silent, her head covered by a thick blanket that was soaked with sweat. I reached out a hand, hoisting the blanket off her curled form with an annoyed look.

"Renee." She growled, reaching out to grab the blankets back.

"Get up," I repeated, feeling my pupils narrow into slits. "You've been in here for nearly a week."

She looked awful, her hair splayed out into ragged knots that clung to the back of her neck. Her eyes were dull and lifeless, ringed with dark shadows. Her lips were dry and cracked, most likely due to the little moisture in the air.

"I don't care." She hissed through clenched teeth. She gave up her struggle for the blanket and instead collapsed back down on her side, staring off into the distance.

"Well I do." I retaliated. "I've organised for you to meet with your friends in an hour. Get up now or I'll drag you there myself."

She let out a long sigh, one that belonged to child more than a thirty-year-old woman. Her face was slackened of any emotion, the only indicator that she heard me was the curling of her fingers in the bed sheets.

"I don't want to." She finally replied, her response muffled by her pillow.

"And I didn't ask if you wanted to or not." I hissed back, anger stabbing at my words. "I'm sick of this game. You can't go and hide in your room every time Dad is mentioned in a conversation."
She didn't reply, although she did blink slowly. Running out of patience, I reefed at her hand, hurling her to an upright position. She made a disgruntle noise, attempting to shake off my grip but I let my fingers dig into her wrist. "Don't make this harder for yourself."

Her eyes flicked to mine and for once she seemed to realise I wasn't joking. Her chin jutted stubbornly, her pupils forming into slits.

"Have a shower, eat some breakfast and do something outside." I finished, letting go of her hand so it hung loosely by her side. "If you haven't done any of these things in ten minutes, I'll tell the girls to come and collect you regardless of how you look."
She shot me a venomous look but then slowly rose to her feet. She said nothing as she ambled to the shower. She shut the door loudly so it banged against the doorframe, enough for it to rattle to stop.