Chapter 5: 5: Pancakes at 4:30 AM
Chapter 5: 5: Pancakes at 4:30 AM
"Hey, dad?" I said from the other side of Macy's phone.
"Who is this?" He asked drunkenly.
"This is Casey, your daughter." I reminded him. He seemed to be thinking it over, so I continued, "I was
wondering if I could stay at Macy's tonight."
"How can you be there if you're right here?" He asked through the phone. I scrunched my eyebrows in
confusion as Macy watched my curiously.
"I'm not there, dad. I don't know who that is, but it's not me." I informed him worriedly.
"Oh." Was all he said.
"I'll be right over." I told him, hanging up. "Sorry Mace, I gotta go."
"It's okay, I get it." I really doubted that she did, I mean, how could she? Her parents were still married,
she was an only child, she lived in a nice suburban home, her life was honestly nothing like mine. Even
if I was more than a little jealous, I tried as best I could to make sure that it didn't interfere with our
friendship.
I hurried out of the house, saying goodbye to Macy's parents as I left. I may not be athletic, but the one
thing I can do is run.
I was a track star last year and the practice I get is running home to my dad. I ran a kilometre and a half
- the distance between Macy's and my house. I barely noticed the heavy snowfall because I was so
determined to reach the house quickly. When I arrived, I unlocked the door to find my father sitting at
the dinner table with the life-sized doll that he had bought for me six years ago.
"Dad, that's not me." I told him, taking the doll to my room. His eyes were bloodshot from the alcohol
that he'd been drinking, I could smell it on him. His breath reeked of the distinct smell of vodka. "C'mon,
let's get you to bed." I said, helping him up. Dad was an emotional drunk as I had learned, so he just
walked with me. He was too sad to put up a fight.
He really loved my mother, as we all did.
I decided that I'd go to bed too. I found a bottle of Jack beside his bed so I took it and hid it in my room
so that he couldn't find it. It was eight o'clock and I was really tired. It's been a long day and all I
needed was a night of sleep.
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"Sis?" I called out. "Sis!"
I walked around in the darkness of which was my home, trying to find her. Suddenly, she appeared in a
beam of light, cutting through the darkness.
"Valerie!" I cried, running towards her. I enveloped her in a hug, but as soon as I touched her she
disappeared. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I cried.
"Cass?" Someone called from behind me. Their voice was high-pitched and squeaky. I turned around
and found Valerie right behind me.
"Oh, Val." I cried, not touching her for fear that she'd disappear.
"Why did you let them take me?" She asked, black tears rolling down her cheeks.
"I couldn't do anything, they took you from me, there was no-" she cut me off.
"You promised that we'd always be together." She accused. I cried harder and while her tears were
black, mine were white. When they hit the floor, the darkness disappeared. Val and I stood in our
childhood home, the one that we were raised in together. Mom and dad were kissing in the kitchen,
cooking together. Val and I were playing with dolls in the living room.
My tears were gone and I smiled as we played. Suddenly, the roof of our house was ripped off and a
giant Dave stood over us. He laughed evilly as he reached in the house and took mom from the
kitchen, she didn't even struggle. Dad fell to the floor, crying. Then, Dave reached back in and grabbed
Valerie.
"Val!" I shouted, trying to grab her arms. She cried out for me as her hands slipped from my grasp.
Dave turned with an evil smirk on his face and ran away.
All I heard was a faint, "You promised!" From the lips of my sister. I fell to the floor and cried out in
agony, tears spilling from my eyes.
I woke up with a start, real, salt water tears falling from my eyes. I quickly sniffled, using the tissues
beside my bed to wipe my eyes and blow my nose. I refuse to cry over spilled milk. These past four
months have been painful, especially because I couldn't visit my sister since they moved to the next
province over. They'd moved from our town of Lacombe to a big city over in British Columbia.
I looked at my rusty alarm clock and sighed as it read 3:57am. There was no point trying to get
anymore sleep so I got out of bed and started making breakfast. I knew dad was knockout from his
hangover so even though I tried to be quiet, there was really no point.
I made pancakes and put some extras on a plate for dad when he woke up. I covered it with a pot lid so
that they'd stay somewhat warm and ate my pancakes at 4:30am. Once I was finished, I got dressed This is from NôvelDrama.Org.
and decided to go for a run - the one thing that really calmed me down.
The one reliable in my life that would forever be there. Of course, I always had Macy, but if for some
reason she ever left, I'd always be able to run.
I went outside I started at a slow pace, thinking about random things as I usually do. Therefore, my
mind naturally drifted to the topic of ballerina's. How could they achieve the level of 'point'? I mean,
balancing on your toes for minutes? There's no way that's healthy. Your toes would be all messed up
because of the point, for starters. Secondly, it would be uber painful. Lastly, why would you do that to
yourself?
I was so lost in my thoughts that I hadn't noticed the snowflakes falling on my head, nor the near winter
breeze nipping at my nose.
I sped up my pace as I switched subjects. The boys. Why are they talking to me? I am incredibly
cynical about the entire thing. If I wasn't, well, me, I'd think it was normal, but I am me, so yeah.
They just all of a sudden started talking to me yesterday and it's bothering the crap out of me. I'm not
unique, I'm not special, and I'm definitely not overly pretty. So what's the appeal?
They should just keep hanging out with Tiffany and leave me alone, I think it would be better for
everyone that way.
At this point, I was full on sprinting. I quickly stopped running when I realized that I was in fact, lost. The
building around me weren't in any way familiar and I was too lost in my thoughts to have paid attention
to the route that I'd used.
Well, this is going to be a great week.