The Wilde Ones

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The sun glare from the gap in my curtains forces me awake, whilst also hearing the faint grunts of my father. I had hoped that he was too out of it yesterday to drink last night, but hope was all it was, a false dream.

I peer over at the clock to notice it's five in the morning. Sighing, I shuffle out of bed and down the stairs, seeing the all too familiar image of my father, reeking of alcohol and... piss.

Fuck, the lazy fucker couldn't even get to the toilet last night. Do I really have to deal with this?

I sit on the bottom step with my head in my hands, contemplating what type of person I am. Would I be a bad daughter if I just threw him out? How many times would I have to do this?

He's a bad father. He shouldn't even matter to me. But I don't want to find him in some ditch one day dead.

Looking up and over to my father, I decide that he needs me, even though he may not deserve it.

Reeling his body up the stairs and into the bathtub, I collate some clothes from his drawers, untouched since we arrived, and placed them next to the tub. He stirs a bit, wriggling to get comfortable. Removing his jacket, shirt, pants and boxers, I begin to hose him down.

"Fucking bitch!" he half yells half whispers.

"Thanks dad, I love you too," I mutter in annoyance.

It's hard to pretend his words to me don't affect me honestly. Especially when all he can say to me is cure words after everything I've done. Maybe I believe I deserve this after him.

Once I'm done, I dress him in his fresh clothes (not the easiest or the most pleasant of tasks) and leave him passed out on his bed, tucking him in and placing a glass of water and a cheese and ham sandwich next to him. The guy gets more than I have eaten this morning.

Heading into the kitchen, since it's too early to do anything else, I down a cup of coffee and start to make breakfast for me and the guys, cracking a few eggs with flour and milk into a bowl to make pancakes. I glance at my watch and huff, seeing it is merely six and I have two hours until school.

Alone in the haunting silence of the house, my thoughts go back to my life in Phoenix. They can't help it. I love him. Then they also go to 'what if dogs could fly?'.

I really want a dog. A little friend to keep me company. I would take him for walks in the morning, bide my excessive extra time, and I could teach him tricks.

Stacking the pancakes in a big mound onto a plate and laying out syrup next to it on the table, I take a textbook from my schoolbag and begin to read, sitting back into my chair and putting my feet on the chair next to me of the table. I get distracted looking up cute puppy photos but force myself to study.

A few minutes later, I hear footsteps heading towards the kitchen, heavy and slow meaning whoever they were, they weren't fully awake. In this house, that could be a number of people.

I await the person to appear. When I see it's Kai and I avert my eyes back to my book. I can tell that his eyes are on me the second he notices me and I glance up, pretending I hadn't seen him. I don't know why really; it's just my natural response.

His hair's got its own life to it, messed up in every which way from just waking up. He squints around the kitchen, adjusting to the light. His sweatpants hang low on his hips, enough for me to see the band of them.

Still hot... Stop it! No!

"Morning, Walker,” I say in a care-free way before getting back to my book. He grunts in response, taking out some milk from the fridge and drinking from the carton. "You really too lazy to get a glass?"

Does he really have to spread his disgusting germs everywhere? But you would like that, wouldn't you? What?! No! Of course not! If I were to drink from the carton, it'd be like kissing him. Now I'm thinking about kissing him. Great.

He raises an eyebrow at me, noticing behind me on the table were the stack of pancakes I had made, and I watched the corners of his lips turn up. Putting the milk back into the fridge, he sits down next to me, pushing my legs off the chair and taking a plate.

"You made these for me? I didn't know you cared," he exclaims jokingly and his mood took me by surprise. He's usually quite grumpy in the mornings. I know, he's grumpy all the time, but especially grumpy in the morning. I can tell in the way the air changes. Not that I've been paying any particular interest in him or anything.

I smirk a little at his comment, putting my book down to look at him. His eyes seem lighter this morning, and kinder.

"Well, if I knew you were going to be an ass about it, I wouldn't have bothered," I say, taking a few pancakes and drenching them in syrup. He does the same. "Bit early for you to be up, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I had trouble sleeping," he replies, digging into his breakfast. I haven't really seen him like this, so calm and without any armor. I prefer him this way; he seems more approachable. "Why are you up?"

"Heard my dad rustling around down here, gave him a shower and put him to bed."

"Oh, that was the noise. Sorry, I would've helped if I'd known. You can wake me up, you know, I don't mind. It must've been hard work," he says genuinely, and I smile.

Did someone abduct Walker and make a clone of him? They didn't get his personality right if that's the case. How cool would clones be? Actually, they're kind of scary. What if they made an evil clone of you and then you go down for the crimes?

Walker begins to stare at me as I have my internal debate about clones. When my eyes meet his again, I smile, attempting to be confident but it comes off as more awkward.

"Well, he's not your problem, you don't have to."

"He shouldn't be your problem either. I don't understand why you help him." I scoff at his words, knowing I don't know why either. He realizes that when I don't say anything and continues eating.

Once he's done, he lays back in his chair and just looks at me.

"The fuck are you looking at?" I inquire, irritated by all the staring he's been doing all the time.

You like it, don't you? No! It's creepy. And most of the time, it's not a stare, it's a glare. Like I ran over his puppy. I would never do that if he had a puppy. I would love Kai if he got a puppy. Wait! No! I wouldn't love him like that, I would- Urgh! Stop it!

He chuckles a little before saying, "you won't make any friends with that attitude." He avoids my obvious question, again.

"I thought you didn't want me to have friends at all," I say, recalling his attitude toward the Sophomore football players.

"Aiden fucking Sanders is not your friend. He's not any girl's 'friend'." I now notice he's all worked up over my comment and I change the topic, wanting an easier morning.

"You and Matt have football practice today?" And he relaxes slightly, noticing my quick change in conversation also.

"Yeah, why? You want to watch me play that bad?" He smirks, looking into my eyes.

Was he flirting with me? Just some casual teasing probably. Matt does it all the time.

I cock my head at him and smile too.

"Of course I do. Who wouldn't? I love watching you being shit at football; it really makes my day." Was this my version of flirting? I've only had one boyfriend so, who knows? He chuckles.

"Ouch," he says, holding his hand to his heart. Yep, I thought that too, Kai, when I think about my teasing skills. They're non-existent. I'm just sarcastic and kind of aggressive. Doesn't make a good flirt. Then he comments, "but we both know that's not true."

"I don't think we do," I respond with a sly smile, then hearing the footsteps of my brother heading towards the kitchen. His tired face lights up at the sight of pancakes on the table, like a kid at Christmas. Without a word, he sits down in front of us, taking a plate, pancakes and syrup, and happily munches away.

Maybe a 'thank you', douchebag.
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