Categories > Original > Romance > Older Than Me, Younger Than You

Swirling Sausages

by sesshyfanchick 1 Reviews

breakfast time >3

Category: Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama, Romance - Characters:  - Published: 2007/04/10 - Updated: 2007/04/11 - 3705 words

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DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN iPOD, DATE LINE, TEEN TITANS, MIND OF MENCIA AND I LOVE NEW YORK!!

CHAPPEH 7: SWIRLING SAUSAGES

It was too warm, too cozy and relaxing that I thought I might never wake up. I shifted, my legs entrapped within something fuzzy and warm. I opened my eyes, despite the difficulty, and took in my surroundings.

I was in my room. How did I get in my room?! All I had remembered last night was lost, a memory so sluggish and dreary that I was having difficulty trying to remember it. Despite my body screaming for me to stop, I sat upright on my bed. I stared about me once more, scanning over the scattered objects in my room to hold them accountable. Everything was as it should be. The iPod mom bought for me was still hooked up to my computer, my Teen Titans comics were still spread about my dresser and some of my clothes were still scattered on the carpet floor. Everything seemed to be alright, yet why did I get this feeling that something was a bit...off?

I shed the blankets from around me, stripping them off gently. As soon as I moved my leg, right away the memories flooded back from last night, pooling and swirling like a ready-to-play movie. My leg hurt very badly, a sharp stinging sensation shooting directly up my leg. It was painful, truly painful, but I didn't feel like screaming or crying. I didn't want to disturb the peace.

The sun streamed in through my window, the curtains open and fluttering with the mornings wind. It was quite cold, but I didn't go to close it. This time I went straight towards my dresser and opened a drawer, pulling a out plain jade-green zip-up sweater. I had learned my lesson from last night: always take a sweater.

I draped the garment around myself and sat back upon the bed, my eyes searching the ground for my shoes. I spotted them and dragged them over with my socked foot, shoving my feet in and tying the dirtied shoe laces.

I was with Real last night, that much I knew. Sneaking out, a weird spooky house and then...sleep. I gulped, my cheeks staining red.

I had fallen asleep on him last night, hadn't I? I remembered looking at his house, thinking that that's where he was heading, but then he turned and went to mine. There was a high percentage that he could have gotten in and taken me to my room, but Real was too...weird to do something so sweet and gentle. Besides, it wasn't as if he had suddenly configured a set of house keys like magic. He wouldn't have been able to get in. But then, Real was cunning.

I shook my head, my brain starting to hurt. It was too early to be thinking like that, I needed some food. My stomach growled in agreement. I walked across my room and left, butterflies fluttering within my stomach. What if he had taken me to his house after all, confronting Mom? What would she say? She'd probably never trust me again, sneaking off so late into the evening. If I were her, I'd ground myself for at least two weeks. That'd teach me.

I laughed at myself. Why was I giving myself punishments? All there was left to do was see if mom knew where I was last night. Hopefully, she didn't.

I stepped off the final stair, dragging my shoes over the carpet towards the kitchen. I had to keep my composure, didn't want Mom to notice that I was limping. The scent of bacon and sausage sizzled through the air, making my stomach all the more hungrier. Breakfast time, the most important meal of the day.

I stepped into the kitchen, seeing the form of my mother hovering over the stove with a black pan and spatula in her hands. She was currently scooping up some bacon and sausage and placing them on a small blue plate. Probably for me.

"Hi monkey," she sing-songed. She turned towards me with the blue plate of bacon and sausage piled atop of it, setting it down on the table as I took a seat in front of it.

"Why didn't you tell me you were gonna' go home by yourself?" she asked, returning towards the stove. I quirked an eyebrow at her question. Go home by myself? Was she talking about last night?

"What?" I asked simply, reaching over towards the ketchup. I squirted a big puddle of the red glop onto my plate, swirling a fat sausage through it.

"Ya' know, you had me worried there for a sec monkey," she said, walking towards the living room with a plate of her own in hand. "You could have told me that you were gonna' go home early or something. You didn't know how scared I was when I went upstairs to check on you, thank god you were at home." Mom laughed, sitting herself upon the couch. She reached over for the remote and pressed a few buttons, the TV screen flickering to life. I Love New York was playing.

I released a breath, not really knowing that I was holding it. She thought I had went home by myself last night. She probably thought I had grown bored and left. I smiled, relieved that she didn't know otherwise. Well, I was off the hook...for now.

I finished the last of my bacon and sausage, whirling my index finger through the remaining streaks of ketchup. I licked the tomato-stuff off and dumped my plate in the sink.

"You got some ketchup on your cheek girl," Mom's voice echoed from the living room. I halted in front of the steps, my hand on the banister. Ketchup, on my cheek? My eyes widened.

'Oh no, the blood!' I yelled to myself. I thanked Mom for the breakfast and walked up the stairs, rushing as fast as my leg would allow me, straight into my room. I slammed the door behind me and I went over to my dresser. I looked at myself in the mirror. I sighed, tugging on a few strands of my hair.

I looked like a freaking zombie. My hair was tussled this way and that, messy and tangly in many places. My eyes were puffy, gunk wedged in between the corner's of my eyes. Then there was the "ketchup" or blood that was streaked like a stretch of red paint across my cheek. Real had smeared it onto my cheek last night. I didn't know why he had, probably since he was so messed up mentally, but I wanted it off. I grabbed a white tank top (one of those boyish undershirt ones), a towel, some socks, underwear and a black pair of shorts that reached up to my knees and headed out the door towards the bathroom. I needed to take a shower, I felt absolutely filthy. Especially when there was probably a crusted-over cut on my leg and a dried blood streak on my cheek. How disgusting.

I shut the door to the bathroom, placing my clothes on the toilet seat and hanging the towel on the hanger. I shed my clothes off, my jeans being the most difficult because my cut was starting to sting very badly. I stared down at my leg, surprised to see it looking so...clean.

It was gauzed over, a wad of cotton balls placed over the cut. I quirked an eyebrow. Had Real done that? Since Mom obviously didn't know about any of the events last night, except that I had gotten home early, then Real was the only possible answer. It was weird to think of him doing that. I couldn't even imagine him trying to help someone. I bet if he were a doctor, although I wouldn't know why he would have qualified to even be one, he'd probably accidentally snip some major artery in open-heart surgery. I absolutely could not see him having the sense to actually go into the medicine cabinet, grab a few cotton balls and gauze, and tend to my leg.

"Nope," I muttered to myself. Definitely couldn't.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXD

I was fully clothed, brand new and clean with combed hair as I stepped out of the bathroom. I ditched the sweater, since it was starting to grow a little stuffy.

"Lindsay's here."

I halted in my tracks, my mouth falling open. Just when I had thought that the day couldn't possibly go wrong. Mom walked back down stairs and resumed her position on the couch, now watching Mind of Mencia. I heard her cackling with laughter, slapping her palms on the couch. I smiled and went down the stairs. My leg wasn't hurting that much anymore, now that it was properly cleaned. I had replaced the gauze and cotton balls with new ones and now the cut was starting to scab over. In about a weeks time it should probably be gone.

"Where is she?" I asked nervously, looking around the house. Lindsay truly scared me sometimes, especially when you didn't know where she was.

"She's outside with your friends," Mom answered and returned her attention back to Carlos. She started laughing out loud as soon as her eyes met the TV screen.

I went over to the front door, placing my palm around the door knob. I gulped. I didn't like Lindsay, heck I silently loathed her, but who else would play with me? All the boy's thought of me as some anamoly, like a crippled tomboy or something, so Lindsay and her cronies were the only available choices. It wasn't as if I trusted them, no way. They're the type to blab a strange rumor or huge secret as soon as you told them, there was no way that I could trust them like a true friend would. I sighed.

Thus the life of a nine-year-old.

I opened to the door slowly, the breeze flowing in and tussling my hair. It was a nice, breezy day. The sun was out over the neighborhood, casting it's mild rays down on whoever went under it. The breeze was nice, the chilled wind caressing my skin. Maybe, today wasn't going to be so bad. I could keep Real and his quirky self out of my mind for now. Today, I'll enjoy myself without having to worry about...him.

"Rachel!"

I cringed at the sound of my name.

A blond headed girl with curly hair and a pink dress walked up to me, pointing a finger. I looked behind her.

Good god, she had brought the house.

"We've been waiting for you all morning!" she huffed, curling a blond curl around her finger. I saw Amy and Stephanie poke their heads out of the tiny plastic window.

"Uh, what time is it?" I asked.

"I don't know, prolly' around ten or something, but who cares!" she exclaimed, grabbing my wrist in the process. I almost screamed.

Can the abuse on my wrists just...STOP! Lindsay lead me over to the plastic play-house, halting me in front of the little red door.

"You gotta' be the Daddy, without a Daddy then there's no babies," she explained, poking me in the shoulder. My skin was sizzling; how I loathed her. She always, always made me play the part of the Dad. It never failed! One time, I asked her if I could play a different role like the house maid, gardener, even the chef! She straight flat rejected me, yelling at me and saying that she was the boss and she decided everything that I was going to do since she was the one that owned the plastic play-house. I wanted to slap her that day, but refrained from doing so.

Lindsay motioned for me to go in and I was about to, but halted in my tracks.

"Oohh, look at the little girls playing house!" a string of shrewd voices exclaimed. "Hope Daddy doesn't knock you up!" I shuddered, automatically recognizing the obnoxious voices. The Boyz were here. I stepped out from the door, straightening myself. Five boys around our age, two of them a year older, were currently rested on their bikes, three of them riding their skateboards.

"Shut up Chris!" Lindsay spat at him. Chris was the leader of their little Gang. He was taller than me, with wavy brown hair past his ears. I had asked him directly before if I could be admitted into his group, but he, just like Lindsay, straight flat rejected me. He said I was a freak, a girl who dressed in boys clothes. Then he took off on his skateboard, the rest of the group following after him, howling with laughter. I didn't despise them as much as Lindsay, since they made me laugh from time to time, but I still didn't trust him. Chris was always picking on me.

That was probably a year ago or something, the memory was a little bit fuzzy to remember completely.

Chris skated over towards our curb, kicking up his skateboard and grabbing it with his arm. He walked up to Lindsay and I in two graceful strides.

"Shouldn't you be off having a sex change?" he asked flatly, looking down at me with mean eyes. "I don't think our neighborhood has room for a tomboy like you, it's all or nothing." I blushed at the sex change thing. I knew what it was, seen it on Dateline a few months back. Why was he even implying that?! He was always mean to me, always teasing me. Mom said it was because he liked me, she said she could see it clearly. I laughed at her. There was no way that Chris liked me, not even possible in my book.

"Why do ya'hang around with her, Blondy?" he turned his gaze to Lindsay, his attitude changing. Was he only mean to me?

"She's the only girl who'll play Daddy," she glared at me, flipping her curly hair. The both of them were really starting to irk me, but it was partially my fault since I never really did anything to defend myself. Mom said it was always right to defend your honor or something like that, but I never really did. Maybe I was a freak.

"You're a fuckin' freak," he breathed, leaning down towards my height. He glared daggers at me. "Why would anyone want you?"

"WOOOOOOO!!!"

I jumped, startled at the loud noise. It was coming from behind me, a little distance away. I turned around to look and my eyes widened. Real was stretching on his front porch, his black hair disarrayed and messy. Had he just woken up?

"You gotta' love them dreams!" he said loudly, a yawn escaping his lips. He climbed down his porch steps, his arms still in the air. I quirked an eye brow at his clothing. He was wearing a sleeveless black shirt with blood stains on it, probably not real (I hoped they weren't real), just to add effect I guess. He had a black pair of tight jeans with all sort of stuff sticking to it. What I could make out were a lot of word and cartoon pins, safety pins and weird little designs. His state of dress always boggled me.

"They're beautiful, marvelous," he continued, directing his way over towards my side of the lawn. He stepped over the strip of grass that separated his house from mine.

"It's like, being in a movie but only you can direct it," he said, his voice lost and distant. "Dreams are essential kids, like a painting full of abstract colors..." He drained out, his index finger tapping his chin in thought. He stood like that for a while, just thinking. His jagged, uncombed hair flew in different directions, the breeze murdering it.

"Who the fuck are you?" Chris asked, giving a heated glare towards Real. Real perked up to the sound of Chris's voice. His black orbs were alive and awake, dancing with a muted mischievous fire. I could tell he was up to no good, his eyes got like that. I blushed at turned away. I had to stop analyzing (:3) him.

"Ah, such foul language!" Real said, looking hurt. He turned his gaze towards me, smirking. "Don't tell me you hang around with these little fuckers?!"

"Shut the fuck up fag!" one of Chris's cronies yelled. Real looked his way and placed his hands on his hips.

"Fag's are little sticks that you smoke, I'm hardly smokable...although...if you wanna'..." Real trailed on, giving his best glare towards Jacky (the one who yelled). Suddenly, Real's bewildered demeanor dropped. His eyes became pointed, the smirk erasing from his face. He looked like his usual self, although...a little more feral.

I backed away instinctively. He looked scary.

"Just go back to sucking each other's cocks," he said dryly, making his way over to me. He halted in front of me, his form towering over my own. He looked wild. His eyeliner was smudged, his black hair fairly messy and un-kept. He looked like he could attack at any minute.

He leaned down, his lips inches away from my ear.

"I told you already, you're mine," he whispered harshly and stood up straight, ruffling his hair away from his face. "There's gonna' be a fair tonight!" This part he said out loud.

"Cotton candy and stuffed animals, like fucking heaven for you little sprites," he grinned. He suddenly grabbed my wrist, his thumb stroking my flesh. He started walking, pulling me with him. We crossed the strip of grass and walked over to his lawn, stepping up his porch. He opened his door and shoved me inside.

We left them like that. Lindsay with her mouth agape and fuming, Chris just staring after me like I was some sort of alien. It was times like those that just made me feel wonderful, to know that somehow in someway, they were deeply confused. But now, I was in for it.

Real kept on tugging at my wrist, dragging me across his living room to the stairs.

"Honey, is that you?" Sheryl's voice echoed from the kitchen.

"No."

"Okay," Sheryl said in a cheery voice. He directed me up the stairs, down the hall to his room. He kicked open his door and threw me inside. I scrambled to his bed, trying to find anything for me to hold onto. I could see that he had added more stuff to his room, since there was a new flat screen computer on his desk drawer.

I sat on his bed, my legs criss-crossed over his blankets. They were still tussled, his bed unmade. I sat there for a few good moments, staring at him as he glared at me. I didn't know what he was thinking, nor did I want to know.

"Don't go near him," he said softly, his eyes averting towards some place else. He looked shy and timid when he did that, as if he were a blushing school boy asking if he could go to the bathroom.

"Why?" I asked, fiddling with the strands of my hair. It wasn't as if Chris harmed me in any way, unlike somebody I knew...

"You like him then?" he asked suspiciously, his feet moving across the carpeted floor. I blushed, trying to look away from him. Why in the world would I like Chris, he was a big jerk! Real's body swayed from side to side, looking a bit tipsy. Then, he landed on top of me, his body squishing mine to his bed. I tried not blush, but I think I failed.

His arms dug under me, as if he were hugging me.

"We have a fair to go to," he breathed, sending shivers all throughout my body. It tickled, he tickled. "Katie's gonna' come." I stiffened. Who was Katie? It was strange that I was so...responsive to the mentioning of another girl's name...especially when he said it. Still, who was Katie? Was it possible, maybe she was his...

"Who's Katie?" I asked slowly. I felt him smirk, his arms squeezing me even tighter.

"None of your business," he said lowly and retreated from me. He crawled on his hands and knees, towards the appropriate side of the bed where his pillow was. He shuffled himself into the blankets, placing his head on the pillow and drawing the covers up. He looked beautiful, untouchable at that moment. His hair was splayed over the pillow, his lithe body spread as if nothing mattered. Then his eyes grew heavy, fluttering to stay open.

"Sleep with me..."

not really much of a cliffy, but hey :3 now, the fairs coming into view, next chappeh!! ITS GONNA BE FOOKING AWESOME o-0 anyways, sorry about the I Love New York stuff, lmao. my brother watches it everyday so it kinda grew on me. and as for Mind of Mencia...FREAKING LOVE THAT DAM SHOW. its hilarious!!! since i'm mexican, i find myself cracking up at all the "beaner" jokes and i say "its true". so hilarious XD anyways, hope u enjoyed the chappeh!! next one will be even better since it takes place at the fair :3 REVIEW OR I'LL SEXUALLY MOLEST YOU 0-o

EXTRA: you may have noticed that in some places, there's these little face thingys (:3). that just means that inside, i'm laughing hysterically. like the word analyzing, where Rey says she needs to stop analyzing him...XD i never realized that the word analyze had anal in it until we had to study it for our root word quizes in bio. im just saying, shouldn't Real be the one analyzing her? XD jk jk...this story ain't gonna be in the M's...or will it...no it wont...maybe 0-o... no, just kidding ;3

oh, and the boyz act a little bit...mature i guess. its just, that over here where i live, most of the boys are like that, STREET SMART. my brother practically knew everything about everything on sex when he was like...8. he knew what tea-bagging was when i didn't, and i'm older than him! anyways...woosh
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