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theorific > Raindrops Book 1: Cry > 5 Chapter 1B
Mom's out tonight again; not that it bothers me anymore.

I'm rather used to her not being around so much that it was now weird for me when she was home.

Unfortunately, when she did show up, she'd either be nursing a very horrible hangover or barking orders at me. One night when she had shown up drenched in liquor, I wasn't shocked to find out that she had lost all three jobs she had.

If not for my father and the monthly check he sent to us, my body would probably be rotting in a ditch somewhere, so it's understandable why I was glad when dad bought us the house we live in.

Letting out a breath I didn't even know I had been holding in, I sauntered over to the kitchen and towards the fridge. I'm not sure what I was expecting to see and why it had even crossed my mind as we hadn't gone grocery shopping for the whole of summer.

I had lived off of pizzas and takeout.

Closing the fridge in disgust, I dragged my bare feet to the coffee table where my phone sat. I flopped down on the couch and held up two fingers.

I would just like to emphasize the fact that just because I am isolated to myself six out of seven days a week, does not mean that I'm crazy. Boredom however, is a much better explanation as to why I had two fingers in the air and why the nursery rhyme coming from my mouth helped in the decision as to what I would be eating tonight: Chinese takeout or pizza.

As fate decided for me, I called up Emmy's Kitchen and made my usual order for three: Kung Pao Chicken for me and two orders of Chicken Fried Rice for my mother and whoever she dragged home with her tonight.

As I waited for dinner to show up, I stared at the mantle that had once held the memories that everyone but myself had forgotten and the new traditions we had taken up in this household: my mother bringing in strays to sleep with each night, the fridge that was always empty, and the long silent nights spent watching cable television alone.

I couldn't even remember when the word "alone" became the only word left in my dictionary, and I also didn't remember when I had deemed any of it acceptable, but I just couldn't bring myself to care anymore.

As my eyes wandered, they took in every detail of the house and how it all currently seemed to portray my mood. The walls were a dull peach color; the furniture that was scattered pointlessly around didn't match the walls but didn't stand out on their own either. The old and dusty floorboards creaked in certain sore spots where it had been abused or mistreated and the corners of the ceilings had gathered cobwebs over the weeks of no cleaning or dusting.

At that point, images in my head brought back memories of what the house used to be like: sunlight streaming in through lightly closed curtains, laughter bouncing off the walls, and the aroma of home-cooked meals wafting throughout the entire house.

As the images flashed through my mind, I pondered on the fact that I once had a family.

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