Sharp

“Becca?”

Waking up to my younger sister whispering my name into my right ear. I wouldn’t have woken up if she hadn’t called my name. With the blanket surround my body in comfort, the gentle taps to wake me up couldn’t be felt through it.

“Dinner is done.” After notifying me, she walked off to attend to the food that was waiting for her.

I pulled my black blanket off of my body. Stomach wasn’t completely sure of being hungry, but once I smell mom’s food. My stomach was sure to wake up and ache for the delicious food. No food she made was less then perfect. Which always made dinner the best part of the day.

My black hair is incredible tangled due to the wonderful nap. Though the ponytail hidden inside wasn’t going to be an easy task to find. Or painless.

After putting on my soft black fluffy robe, I was ready to exit my room. I normally take my bra off when coming home from school. So any time I leave my room, I make sure to cover up to make sure my nipples didn’t get hard and attract anyone’s attention. My brothers normally bring friends over and I was not in the mood to see eyes glancing over my breast. I’m extremely embarrassed by stuff such as that. My pale face will become similar to a tomato within seconds. I don’t my fluster face to be considered as an invitation to look longer. So covering up is always my better option.

As expected, both of my brothers brought their friends. Filling the table before I even received a seat.

Andrew is my oldest brother. A senior in highschool and captain of the football team. No one knows we’re related unless we tell them and it’s usually not believed. Since were polar opposites. He has two best friends; Gavin and Devin. Both of them are siblings and as well as identical twins. The only thing to set them apart physically is Gavin was the one who wore glasses. Besides that, they looked too similar to point out a difference.

Kevin is a year younger than Andrew. Making him a junior and he isn’t athletic. He has talent in the arts. Painting is his strong suit and many of the painting inside our home is from him. It’s an easy gift for our mom since she loves the paintings he finishes. He prefers landscapes of valleys or nature sights. He claims it to be relaxing to paint which is exactly how you feel when viewing his art. He has his one and only bestfriend Nathan. Nathan is very similar to Kevin in interests. They have been friends for so long, at this point they are inseparable.

Then there is my little sister. Miranda is several years younger than I am. Sweet and gentle with the love for ballet and dance. She’s 9 years old, soon to be 10. Which she’s most excited for. Considering she talks about it all the time. Literally. All the time.

The six of them fill the table. Chatting amongst themselves. Except for the little one. Normally she ate quickly and ran off to her room to play pretend. You could tell she was eager to finish a Barbie story she had arranged or dance her heart away to music she had paused.

Our mom, always so eager to please and keeps us happy. Even if we were considered spolied.

She makes dinner and clean, no matter what. She lets us carry on with our lives. There are times she asks for help, in which we never refuse, and those are on days she isn’t feeling well or is sick. She eats food last to make sure everyone had enough to eat.

Her silhouette fitting an image of a beautiful housewife, even though she is widowed. She still wears the ring since she never can see herself loving another. True happiness to her was within a family of her own. Since growing up she didn’t have much of one. Her parents only had her and they weren’t around much. Their jobs consumed their lives and still does to this very day.

The 4 of us weren’t ones to misbehave, even when our hormones spoke otherwise. If we ever did, our mom is therapist for her career and could handle us with a quick conversation. Our mom lets us do as we please as long as we stay honest to who we are and treat everyone with kindness and respect. She isn’t afraid to tell us when we’ve done wrong or need to think about what we’ve done. She’s not the average mom, but somehow, she’s better.

“If you’d like you can eat it your room, I’m sorry there isn’t another chair to sit.” Mom said.

If everyone is over, I normally didn’t have a seat. Which I appreciated since I wasn’t allowed to eat in my room otherwise. Alone without hearing others chew or click their silverware against their place or bowl. That noise makes me squirm and shiver. She also knew I fancy my room instead. She likes us all together enjoying the meal. Our faces showing delight from the complex flavors of her meals makes her joyful. Her inner talent thriving with our silent devour of the meal. I just didn’t enjoy being around everyone else.

I shake my head in agreement and begin to create a plate full of delicious food. Mashed potatoes, asparagus, country fried chicken and some homemade gravy to go on top of the potatoes and chicken. Since we live in Louisiana, her favorite type of food to make was comfort food. Always my favorite food to eat as well.

I quickly grab a glass of water and some silverware and I headed to my computer to browse the internet and eat. Watching videos of people preparing food while I eat food was inspiring to me. I have no talent in making food, nor do I care to even make it. There’s something about watching it and eating it that feels so grand.

Sitting at my desk, I begin to turn my computer on and open Facebook up. See if there’s any new happening. As everything loads, I take a few bites one after another. I noticed I have a few messages:

Jerry: How can someone as weird as you still exist? Why would someone want to even be with someone like you? Eww!

Brittany: You know what’s worse than you? Nothing! (With many laughing emojis)

Frank: Since you’re a loser, you might as well die! The color black suits you very well, might as well become it!

My eyes shut in anger and I grasp my fork painfully, if only my mom knew what I was hiding. All of these bullying messages constantly. Everyday I get them from the same several people. I don’t talk to anyone. I don’t even have any friends. What is the point of them constantly bombarding me with these hateful comments. I showed my brother Andrew them last week and he said he would do something about it. Nothing ever happens. His reputation in school is too valuable to interfere in my mess. A mess I never asked for or instigated.

Replying was never something I was interested in doing either. Giving the bullies the ability to hurt me was my ability. If I responded, they won. If I didn’t, I won. My mom would be proud of me of the things I instilled from her. Even though it didn’t hurt less doing so.

Growing up, I just never had friends. I’m shy but everyone looked at me as if I was an alien. Being drawn to black clothes was enough to scare anyone away. Even teachers prefer not to have me in their classroom and I’ve been passed around to different classes for my ‘mature behavior’. I’m quiet and keep to myself. I’m very smart which may be intimidating, but besides that I’m just a normal kid. My interests just aren’t the average.

I’ve always chose scary things instead of soft and cute things. Example would be toys. During Halloween, I found a scary skeleton for a toy when I was younger. My mom let me have it since it wasn’t harmful and I was extremely interested. When I brought it to school, other kids thought I was weird or and scary. That or they would laugh at me since I didn’t have toys they had.

My siblings are used to my love for all things dark and scary, but didn’t choose to play with me either. I’ve been alone my whole life. Even my dad thought I was different. My mom would say that it wasn’t a problem, even though he was scared I would grow up to be a murder. My personality isn’t hateful, I just like different things. I’ve always wished to meet someone similar to myself. It just hasn’t happened.

No one understand my interest. Fantasy was my dream for reality. Vampires, witches, zombies, werewolves, and ghosts were the types of books that filled my bookcase. I would beg for a life with mythical creatures. Then I would finally belong somewhere, even if it made life to dangerous to live.