Bright and warm sunlight streamed through her window. Ayalet could hear the sounds of birds calling, welcoming the morning.
“Ayalet! Did you drink the last of my coffee?!” She shoved a pillow into her face and groaned. Three seconds, two, one, “Ayalet!”
Grasping the pillow, she threw it on the ground, “No Aunt Krista, I did not drink your coffee.” I don’t even drink coffee and yet Krista wants to blame me so she doesn’t have to go out and buy more herself.
“I’ve told you before that if you drink the last of my coffee, you need to replace it. You’re almost 17 years old, act like an adult.” Aunt Krista said as she pushed open the door, holding an empty bag in her hand.
“How many times do I have to tell you I’ve never drank your coffee or anyone else’s. I do NOT drink coffee.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just make sure you replace it next time.” She says as she turns before disappearing from the doorway.
As soon as she closed the door, Ayalet threw off her covers and started packing a bag. “Just a couple days away from Aunt Krista will make me feel better. Plus my garden could use a little attention.” She felt a spark of excitement and relief at the thought of being at her parents house again.
Sneaking into the bathroom down the hall, she started gathering her toiletries. She hated being in this house, even though she had lived with her aunt for almost 8 years she felt like she had to scurry about like a mouse, unseen, unheard, unacknowledged, and unwelcomed. Everytime she slipped up and made her presence known or ran into her aunt in the hall she would regret it. Her aunt would take the opportunity to scold her, berrade her, or make a condescending remark. Her Aunt's comments ranged from how Ayalet was dressed, to how she was not respectful enough to ask how her day was or help around the house. Everything and anything her aunt could find as ammunition she would use.
Ayalet made her way through the house to get back to her room, careful to avoid the taller specter that is Krista, however to no avail. Krista's dark short bob and gaudy misfitting clothes caught her attention as Krista darted towards the kitchen, her shrill voice still shrieking at Ayalet as her guacamole green eyes caught sight of the still empty coffee pot. “Ayalet, will you hurry up with the coffee already.”
Ayalet’s blood boiled, what was she, the maid? As Ayalet turned to walk down the hall, she felt her body stiffen in anger. She just wanted to get out of this jail already. As quickly as she could, she prepped the brew then walked back down the hall.
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Everytime she crossed the threshold into the house, Ayalet’s stomach knotted up and she felt constantly on edge. Ayalet grumbled to herself, “Why do I have to wait until 18 to have the ability to live in her parent’s house? It belongs to me and it’s not like I have to worry about monthly payments yet. It’s my house by right through their inheritance. Besides, I basically take care of myself as it is.” The money her parents left her made it so she wouldn’t have to worry about not being able to afford to live alone for quite a few years. Plus, she was already buying groceries for herself and anything else she needed; her aunt didn’t help her with anything.
Ayalet sighed, “Why couldn’t my parents have had more siblings… at least someone else I could have gone to live with.” When she was younger she tried everything she could to make her aunt care just a little. She would vacuum and wash the dishes or she tried to make the gardens pretty. Instead of being grateful or at least showing her what she could have done differently, her aunt would just point out all the spots she missed or how she planted the wrong type or color of flower in the wrong spot. Nothing was right so Ayalet gave up after a while. What was the point of helping if it just gave her aunt more ammunition to berate her?
Her aunt never had kids of her own, and she certainly didn't want Ayalet. But with no other living family, where else was she to go. At times, Ayalet wished her aunt would have had children so she would have someone else in the house. Most of the time, she breathed a sigh of relief knowing no one else had to feel the way Ayalet felt in this house.
She gathered together with some of her friends every other week to have tea or rather milk with a slight taste of bitter old black leaf juice to talk about plants or just gossip. All her aunt really cared about was how she looked in front of guests, and how she was viewed by the rest of the world. I can’t stand how fake she is in front of her friends and how warped her personality becomes in front of others. I desperately need to get out of here; especially before any of her friends arrive. Those damn vultures will pick apart anything breathing within reach. Last time her friends were over, they hounded her about not wearing makeup and how no man would want her if she didn’t try to be prettier.
Molly, the loud ankle biting rat that her aunt called her pet Pomeranian, only added to the noise and chaos of the house. She loved dogs, but this one she could hardly stand. The little orange monster had two settings, sleep and terror. It was always in a foul mood, and IT made a habit of nipping at everyone's heels; with IT paying particular attention to Ayalet’s shoes and clothes in the morning by tearing them to shreds. She gently kicked the dog away as she swiftly gathered the rest of her things, desperate to make her escape from the suffocating house.
With a great sigh, Ayalet snuck back to her room and waited for the sound of the front door closing to signify her aunt's departure for work. Grabbing her pack she headed to the kitchen to grab a few snacks from “her” part of the cupboard. She would have to go shopping tomorrow if she wanted to eat at her house. This time of year was mostly flowers in the garden, not too many ripe veggies yet.
Checking off her mental list one more time she closed the door and stepped off the stoop, her stomach unknotting and taking a big breath as she made her way down the driveway feeling a little lighter with each step. Her mind drifted away into thoughts as she headed towards Home.