1. Keypad
The clouds seemed like they were sad; as I was. Its’ dull white essence sent a short shudder down my spine. My pale face gave off no expression. I glance towards the rain-filled bumpy clouds and the tips of my parched lips turn down as I look back down at my boring bowl of Lucky Charms which combined with -- I’m pretty sure it was spoiled -- milk.
I couldn’t bare to eat another bite. The milk was thick and it smelled terrible; I probably did as well. I’ve skipped taking showers for about two days now. I’m too lazy to get out of bed, though today was an exception. I was starving to get anything. Maybe I should’ve just stayed in my room and ordered pizza.
Today I was (almost) determined to get up and call Quinton. I said I would. Quinton usually got cranky and rude when I never called him daily. I didn’t expect him to be happy I wasn’t taking care of my hygiene. I couldn’t care less about standing into boiling water and scrubbing myself with a raggedy navy cloth.
Now, there are two things you could be thinking. Make that one, actually. One: I’m poor.
Fortunately, I’m not. My father passed down his will to me, and I’m in the middle class. I just choose to lay in bed and sleep, instead of walking to Walmart and actually being productive for once.
I push my plastic bowl into the sink, finished with the moldy Lucky Charms. If anything, that bowl of cereal was unlucky. I trudge out my chair and force myself to walk -- well, limp, actually -- to my room. I push open the brown wooden door and quietly flop onto my bed, grabbing my phone flimsily. My pale fingers didn’t type the numbers into the keypad correctly, and I end up calling the wrong person.
“H. . .hello?” I ask, my voice raspy and harsh.
“Who the hell is this?” A masculine, rude voice barks at me.
“Sorry, wrong number,” I mutter back, going to hang up carelessly.
“Hey, wait right there, little one!” The man shouts back. I flinch, and stare at the keypad dizzily.
“Yeah?” I blink, falling onto my back, setting my phone down tiredly. I want to sleep.
My grey roof squished me into the tiny room more, claustrophobia building up inside my chest.
“Who’re you?”
I was shocked. Why was a random stranger asking for my. . name? I didn’t know what they wanted from me, to be honest. I gave up on life early into it, so I answer back, my eyelids closing on me. I couldn’t stop, and I just mumble back the words.
“My na. . name is, uh, Sam. What about ya?” I had stated ‘ya’ instead of ‘you’ because the quiet tone of my voice couldn’t sustain talking at the moment.
“I’m Joseph. Who were you tryna call just a minute ago, aye?” He asks, a bit of sarcasm in his voice, which surprised me. Joseph was too curious. I couldn’t have cared less, so I flop back around, onto my stomach, and stare at the keypad, answering the man.
“My friend. He gets a bit rude whenever I miss his calls or don’t call him back.”
“Mm, alright. Won’t your friend get a bit mad when he found out you were talkin’ to me instead of him?” I could hear a tight smile in his voice.
“I don’t know. Probably so.” I lazily close my eyes again, tired of this ‘Joseph’ character inquiring so much.
“I’m gonna go. You remember my number, doll?”
Doll. How original.
I hear a whispering noise after a few seconds, and then I hear the man cackling after the whisper.. What was so funny? Did another person in that room say something hilarious? I then realize when I said ‘Doll. How original,’ that was out loud. Shit.
“You’re funny, y’know that? Originality doesn’t matter to me, Sam,”
“Sorry,”
“M’kay, I’m going to head out now.” His voice sounded rough; even angry.
I sigh, and hang up. I didn’t remember his number. I’m glad I didn’t, anyways.
ty for reading chapter one! i know it’s a bit a short..but i’ll be wr\
