The most annoying thing that could ever happen to a not-so-morning person was to be woken up at six in the morning just to go to the brattiest girl's house and teach her how to play the freaking piano.

Nope. Definitely not one of my best mornings.

"Autumn! Get your lazy ass down here!" I heard my Mom called me from downstairs.

I grudgingly got out of my bed and almost crawled my way downstairs. I didn't bother washing my face or brushing my teeth since I could feel my Mom's wrath seeping through the walls.

As I took my last step down the staircase, a sudden smell hit my nose. It was horrendous, like a rotten iguana's body getting burned. Not that I tried cooking a rotten iguana, no, that's just, gross. I hurriedly ran up to the kitchen where I saw my mom struggling with a flaming pan in her left hand, whilst holding a fire extinguisher in the other.

"What in the name of Davy Jones' Locker is happening here?" I asked as I aided my mom by taking the pan from her hand.

Which was a bad idea since it was scorching.

Goddamn it, Autumn. There's a reason why she's wearing mittens!

"Ow! Ow!" I yelped as I bounced the pan to the kitchen sink. Mom bolted right next to me and sprayed the extinguisher right into our sink. Without even warning me. And too carelessly, if I may add.

We both looked at my PJ's, and she had the decency to smile sheepishly as we took in my disastrous state.

"Oh wow, it's only six a.m. and you're already rolling with luck, Auto," a sarcastic voice stated. I didn't need to look back to know that it was the evil spawn of Satan, most commonly known as my elder brother, Hunter.

"What a delight to see you up already, Hun. Got scared of the dark in your room?" I replied. He was about to open his mouth when Mom beat him to it.

Placing the extinguisher on the ground, she looked at him, then to me, with a disapproving look. "That's no way to talk to each other! How many-"

"Times do I have to tell you to show some affection ba-blah blah blah." He finished for her and made his way towards us.

I could not help but chuckle at my Mom's shocked face but was cut short when Hunter bumped into me.

"Move, stupid," he commanded and turned on the faucet. "I'll go clean up here, you two go do whatever business you need to do."

I was grateful to him, don't get me wrong, but I knew what he was trying to do. He's avoiding Mom's long lecture about sibling-love or whatever crap she calls it.

Mom's face lit up like she remembered something. "Oh right! I'll take a bath. You should too, darling," she said and without a second thought, and walked out of the room.

It was just Hunter and me, and the room was filled with unspoken questions. Not for long, though.

"She's not gonna get better, is she?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Looking at the doorway where my Mom disappeared, I clamped my hand on his shoulder and squeezed it lightly. "We just have to hope for the best, H."

"What even happened here?"

"Not sure. I think she was trying to cook but burnt the food," I replied and walked over to the refrigerator to get a new set of eggs and cheese for an omelette. Hunter must have noticed me preparing the bowl when he took it from me and pushed me towards the door.

"Just go. I'll cook. You still have to go to Darla's house." He smirked, but I could see through you, H. I always could.

Hesitantly, I nodded. "Alright."

I sauntered out of the kitchen and back to my room; the weariness that I felt earlier was gone.

As soon as I went into my room, I opened my closet and picked out my clothes for today, then headed to the bathroom and took a shower.

It didn't take long for me to bathe and get dressed. I grabbed my bag and put my wallet, phone, and keys inside before heading out of the room and back to the kitchen.

I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow when I saw that the kitchen was spotless, given that I hardly took half an hour to fix myself. Although, the fact that Hunter could clean the whole room within thirty minutes didn't surprise me.

H was always the organized one between the two of us, anyway; while I was just like a kid who loved making a big mess and waited for an adult to clean it up for me. It had always been my mom's job. But things changed and shit happened, so that burden was passed onto him, which I don't think he minded at all.

"Breakfast," he said without even looking up at me. He set the plates on the table and took the carton of milk from the refrigerator and filled the glasses.

The smell wafted through my nose, and I almost drooled, save by the smirk that Hunter was sporting.

Ignoring him, I sat down and put a portion of the massive omelette on my plate and some bacon. "Where's Mom?"

"Still up in her room," he replied and munched on his food. "What are you up to for today?"

He sounded like Dad, or even Mom, so much that I couldn't help but feel a burning sensation in my chest. Him taking up all these responsibilities remind me of how dysfunctional our family was.

But I'll spare you the sob story of how my Dad left us for some chic in New York.

"Just have to visit Darla, do my homework, then sleep. Why?" I said with a mouthful that I almost choke on. I reached out for my glass and gulped half of the milk.

I noticed him looking at me with that amused glint in his eyes. "Remind me again how old you are?"

I glared at him, and he chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender. After a few minutes, he sobered up and looked at me. "The lads and I have a gig tonight, however, Matt can't come so we need a pianist. You up for it?"

"How much?" was my automatic response. What? No one does things for free nowadays.

"They're gonna pay us 500 bucks."

"Sounds good to me," I replied happily but frowned when I remembered something. "But what about Mom?"

"What about me, honey?" The woman in question asked, and Hunter and I exchanged looks. Mom just stood there, confused on the whole secretive exchange.

Hunter smiled and gestured for the empty chair beside him. "I have a gig tonight and I'm asking Auto to be our pianist since one of the boys can't come."

"Oh! That's good! Very good! You can go, honey," she replied.

I closed my eyes as I tried to comprehend what she was saying. All the repetition are making my head hurt. I shook my head as if to say no, but when I opened my eyes, I saw Mom looking at me. Emotion after emotion flew from her eyes, and I felt guilty.

"Autumn," she started, the sound of her voice quivered on the last syllable of my name.

With a defeated sigh, "Alright. I'm sorry."

And the whole kitchen was silent that morning.

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Edited  by iElzMC