July 10th
2:17PM

It's been raining all day today. I can hear the constant sound of droplets slapping the pavement; it's gotten louder since I've been up.

Dad came up to wake me earlier, with talk of chocolate chip pancakes. It did the trick.

What can I say? I'm weak for chocolate.

I walked to the window, disappointed to see the dull grey clouds slowly taking over the morning sky.

I sighed and padded over to the cream vanity table that sat in the far corner of my room. I gathered my white hair into a messy bun and pulled on a pair of pajama shorts.

I crept down the stairs shortly after he clicked my bedroom door shut, urging me to make haste.

I complied and entered the kitchen, the smell of melting chocolate pervaded my nostrils, engulfing me in a smell that closely resembled heaven, in my opinion.

I scooped my cup from the set table and made my way over to the fridge, pulling out a jug of apple juice and pouring it into the glass.

"Almost finished," he told me as I took my seat at the table, a grin snaked wide across his freshly shaven face.

I gave a pathetic smile in return and his right brow raised in response.

"What's the matter, sweetie?" he asked, flipping a flapjack.

I averted my eyes, not wanting him to see the tears that pricked the corners. I shrugged, keeping my gaze focused on my apple juice.

"You know, your mom really wishes you'd at least hear her out," he murmured, "I know what she did was... More than explainably horrendous, but... and I know you don't want to hear this, Willow, but she is your mother."

I raised my eyes to his, not bothering to hide the disbelief that must've been written clear on my face.

He shrugged,"Just remember, without letting her explain herself, you don't know the whole story." He turned back to the stove, leaving it at that.

I rolled my eyes. I didn't, and don't, care for what my mother has to say. I know the whole story. There's nothing more to it than her allowing her dirty brother to feel me up.

She disgusts me.

"Oliver is so lucky," I muttered, suddenly envious of my twin who didn't live with us anymore.

My father peeked over his shoulder at me. "And why do you say that?"

"He doesn't have to deal with her shit," I grumbled, tilting the glass to my lips and finishing the juice.

My father sighed, flipping off the stove as he sprinkled the mini chocolate chips on top of the cakes, giving them a few seconds to sit and melt.

"What are you doing today?" I changed the subject, pulling my hair from its bun and running my fingers through it.

"Well, I have to go to the pharmacy to pick up your mothers' meds and then I'm going to pick up a few groceries and your brother." He plated the pancakes and fetched the milk from the fridge.

"You're picking up Oliver? Why?" I licked my dry lips, anticipating the chocolatey pancakes.

"He didn't tell you?" He furrowed his brows and sat in the chair across from me, setting down the milk and the plate stacked with the flapjacks.

I reached for a cake, shaking my head no.

He poured my milk as he said, "He's staying here for the rest of the summer. Your mother convinced him the other night at the Holiday party."

I felt a grin stretch across my lips at the thought. "Can I go too?" I asked.