||Pius||
PRESENT DAY!
“NOOO!” Xavier screams after losing for the umpteenth time. We’ve been playing Call of Duty from seven and its almost eleven now. The idiot woke me up at the ungodly hour of six just to play god-forsaken video games and now that I’m on a winning stray—which is usually rare—I’ll let go of the sleep deprivation grudge—whatever that means— and bask in my victory. I stand up and start doing my happy dance, swaying my body in random goofy moves just to rub it in Xavier’s face.
“Douche.” He mumbles.
“Sore loser.” I laugh in his face. “It’s not my fault that I’m kicking your arse.” He makes a mock-like growling noise as a response.
“Hahahaha!” He fake laughs. “Enjoy your victory while it last idiot. Next time it’ll be me doing the happy dance. Oh, and by the way, good luck washing the dishes.” He says and scampers away.
“XAVIER.” I shout. “Don’t play with me. Come down and do the dishes.”
“Not gonna happen biggie.” He answers from the top of the stairs and disappears from my sight.
“Great.” I groan. “Just great.” I throw the controller down on the coffee table.
“Hey, what’s up? ” My father’s voice breaks the silence.
“Hey.” I look up at him from my position.
“And why do you look like you’re about to cut someone’s throat?” He laughs, taking the seat next to me.
“Oh, that’s because I’m about to.” I scowl at him for finding my stress-look witty.
“Xavier did something again, didn’t he?” He asks all-knowingly. I just scoff at him. Damn Xavier. Always finding a way to deflate my mood. Now I’ve to subject myself to the misery of doing dishes. I curse the person who came up with dishwashing and shit. And it’s not like we don’t have a dishwashing machine or anything. No. It’s part of the supposed rehabilitation for my ‘alcohol slip up’ as my father so eloquently calls it.
“He’s just doing what I told him to, you know?” My father looks at me with furrowed brows.
“Yeah. Exactly.” I square him up. “I’m tired as fuck. Davie is driving me nuts.” I groan, running a hand down my face.
“So you’re not working today?” My father asks.
“Something like that.” I tell him. “He gave me the weekend off. Only god knows how much of a pain in the arse Davie can be.”
“Tsk.” My father admonishes.
“Sorry.” I whisper. “You know what I mean. Can’t you just forget the ‘alcohol slip up’ rehabilitation or whatever you call it and just let the machine wash the dishes?”
“It has only been a week Pius.” My father looks at me warningly. “Stop moaning like a five year old. And I’m not removing the rehabilitation punishment. You’ll be washing the dishes with your hands until I say so.”
“Rehabilitation Punishment my foot. It still sucks.” I glare at him.
This was like the longest and most exhaustingly tiring week of my life. I didn’t know life could be this hard. You’re probably wondering what’s with all the fuss about this rehabilitation punishment, work and shit. Let’s just say, Xavier wasn’t joking when he told me my father was pretty pissed after the mini-solo alcohol fiesta. Even worse after the prom because of the state I came back in? Even I was ashamed of myself the next day.
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Victim of Circumstance | UNDER RIGOROUS EDITING
Teen Fiction[BOOK ONE (1) of THE CIRCUMSTANCE SERIES] "It takes the heart of a Lion to become an ultimate conqueror." She'd an easy life. An over privileged one where she didn't have to sweat an ounce to get what she wanted. She'd it all. Everything her prett...
