Dog Eat Dog [South]
Mar 3, 2011 21:26:39 GMT -5
Post by Eastern Orange on Mar 3, 2011 21:26:39 GMT -5
Alina; The Shield
Freighter; The Protector
Morrigan; The Floozy
Trigger; The Bitch
[/justify][/blockquote]I’m so completely focused on reading about the rebellion of District Thirteen and their subsequent defeat that I don’t hear my Aunt calling me the first couple of times. My head snaps up from the page and I look at my door, blinking away pictures of hover crafts and buildings on fire. I sigh and heave myself of the bed, crossing my room in only three steps. I open my door and stick my head out. “Yea?” I call down. The hall way is empty, the entire floor seemed deserted, which is weird considering there were five other girls that lived on this side of the house. Their absence could only mean on thing: food.
“Dinner is ready.” My Aunt calls up in reply, confirming my suspicions. I feel a little queasy, I hate dinner time. It was the one meal of the day when everyone had to eat together; breakfast and lunch were optional. I turn of my light, and shut my door behind me as I leave my room. I drift down the long hallway, passing one, two, three doors, one of which was the bathroom. Three of the youngest girls shared one room, and two shared the other one. I got my own room because I wasn’t here because I was an orphan; I was here because my spinster Aunt lived here, and she just happened to raise other kids besides me. To be fair, my room was more of a broom closet and less of a room. On the other side of the house, inaccessible from this floor, was a mirror image of this hallway, where six boys slept. There was a brick wall separating the floors, and each floor had its own staircase. Aunt Lauren had a room on the first floor.
I take a deep breath before moving down the creaking steps. I can spell pasta – Lauren always cooks pasta – and I can hear the laughter and boisterous voices of eleven other children ranging from the ages nine to eighteen. I move down yet another hallway and push open the door that leads to the dinning room. Two tables are pushed together to create a table long enough to seat everyone together. In the middle was a giant bowl of pasta, surrounded by loaves of bread, and pitchers of water. I take my seat at the head of the table, no one looks at me.
My Aunt appears out of the door that leads to the kitchen, carrying a basket. She sees that I’m seated and looks relieved. She rushes over to me. “Nice to see your shining face, Trogon.” She chides me mildly. “Listen, I have to run to the hospital, Torrance got into another fight. He broke his arm.” I roll my eyes; Torrance was always in the hospital for one reason or another. “I’m leaving you in charge.” I shrug at this, and look away. She always puts me in charge if she has to leave, not that it mattered, the others had no respect for me anyway. She kissed my head, then clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Children! Darlings!” She trilled. “I have to go take care of Torrance,” there were a lot of eye rolls at this, “Trogon is in charge.” And a lot of snickers at that. I try not to turn beet red.
Once my Aunt was gone, all manners fly out the window. The kid’s clean out the bowl of spaghetti is a few seconds, and pile it on their plates. Bread rolls are blatantly hoarded without any remorse, or shame, stacked in twos or threes. I sit and stare at my empty plate and say nothing. I was used to not eating by now. I look up at the other kids, they stare me down, daring me to say anything. I don't.
Ugh, those fucking children. I will beat the fuck out of them when I get the chance.
No you wont. You're all bark and no bite.
And you're all whore and no self-restraint.
You little bitch!
Enough you two. Trigger, you will not start a fight with those children, you know it will only make it worse on her, and Morrigan... Stop being such a whore.
