Allison Irish

I hid in my room for the next couple of hours, hoping to stay unnoticed by my family...and William. Sitting on my fuzzy purple beanbag at my wooden desk, I tried to bury myself in a piece of artwork I was finishing. Drawing and painting had become my way of "coping" and it turns out, I'm not too bad at it. I'd even started doing commissions, starting with illustrating children's books and more recently doing posters and murals for businesses.

Despite my numerous complaints, when I turned sixteen, mom told me it was time to get a job. So I interviewed and started my brand new job waitressing at Applebee's. I lasted two months before my manager got sick of my "hopeless negativism". Whatever that means. I didn't really care though, I hated being around all those people who despise me and I told mom so. If I'm being honest, I was too hard on mom last year. She deserves better than me. Tired of fighting with me, frustrated at Michael's poor grades at the time, and exhausted from working three jobs, she gave up. Told me to stay home and be lazy if that's what I wanted. I felt good about winning that battle for about twenty-four hours, that's when the guilt really set in. After apologizing to my mother and with the help of a friend, I began to submit my artwork to publishing companies and after just two weeks, got hired to illustrate a children's book called Bigfoot Loves Pizza. Goofy, I know, but it was a moneymaker and it made mom happy. I was also offered a job as part time waitress and full time graphic designer at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza 2.0. This was shocking to my entire family since the restaurant was owned by...Charlie's dad. And Charlie's dad shouldn't want anything to do with me.

My sweet solitude, sadly, didn't last long enough. A soft knock echoed from my door and I saw Michael slowly peek around it.

"Hi, Lizzie," He walked into my room, dragging his feet. "Mom says it's time for supper."

I inwardly groaned. Mom had been planning 'our first family dinner in nine years' all week. She even dragged me into mashing the potatoes for one of William's old favorites. Cottage Pie. I personally don't like the stuff, less because William likes it and more because I'm not a fan of ground meat. It looks too much like cat food for my taste.

"Tell her I'm busy." I went back to my drawing. It was a large, purple robotic rabbit with a red bow tie and electric guitar. Bonnie the bunny was an animatronic that William made for his first restaurant, Fredbear's Family Diner before I was born. Except now he was one of the main mascots for the restaurant I worked for and I was drawing Bonnie with large, red, star-shaped sunglasses, playing the electric guitar, and surfing a gnarly wave on a red and purple surfboard. Behind Bonnie were the emboldened words

Catch the Last Wave of Summer Fun at Freddy's!

"That's cool." Michael stared over my shoulder. "Is Bonnie your favorite?"

"Yeah, I like Bonnie okay." Bonnie had been Charlie's favorite. I focused on some dark shadowing under Bonnie's sunglasses. Suddenly, I heard a crash behind me and nearly jumped out of my seat. Whipping around, I saw Michael trying to pick up my violin case and music stand he had knocked over.

"Okay, buddy," I helped him put everything back into place. "Maybe we should go down to dinner."

Michael grinned and dashed out of my room, sprinting down the stairs in front of me. As I followed him my thoughts stayed with my violin. Music had become my other way of dealing with my emotions. Music was something I could get lost in, let every single drop of hate, anger, and shame pour out into a song before they can stream down my face. Art is more about control. It's the precise bits of emotion that are patiently and deliberately depicted on a page.

My mother sat at her usual spot on the left side of our large, oaken kitchen table, beaming over the steaming casserole dish in the center. At the head of the table, sporting a barely noticeable smile, only detectable by the slight dimples forming in his cheeks, was William. Michael had taken his spot next to mother and I wanted to kick myself when I realized my normal seat was right beside William. I slunk over and sat down, making sure to scoot my chair a good twelve more inches away from him. I pretended not to hear the sigh I got from my mother and ignored the conversation between her and William about how she hoped he would like dinner, and how he was sure he would and oh how delicious it looked. Michael mentioned how I helped make it and I gave myself a headache trying not to roll my eyes. 

Throughout the rest of dinner I tried to soothe my headache by drinking several large glasses of iced tea and water, and basically ignored everything that came out of William's mouth. He acted nice...too nice. He asked mom about how the house was holding up, if there was anything he could fix, how Michael liked school, how his summer break was going, and what he'd been up to lately. I had just finished my food and was looking for a chance to escape, when William turned to me. 

"How was your school year, Elizabeth?"  

My gaze cut sharply to him, startled. His eyes were shifting, flowing in waves of blue softness and aquamarine steel. 

I shrugged, "I don't go to school."

"Why doesn't she go to school?" William's face bore a hilarious appalled look. 

"Elizabeth is homeschooled," My mother cut in, "and she does mostly college classes online." 

"Because I don't want to spend my time around imbeciles." I mumble, earning a glare from my mother. 

"We just didn't see it as the best option at the moment." Mom gave me a 'don't you dare say another word look'. 

"But Michael goes to school?" William was obviously confused.

My mother was fumbling for words. "Michael does better...socially than Elizabeth. It's just easier for him to...be around so many people."

"You got that right." I mumbled again. 

"Elizabeth Annette," My mother's face threatened corporal punishment if I opened my mouth one more time.  

I bit the inside of my cheek, lifted my chin in defiance, and dared to speak anyway. "Well it's not like it's my fault I can't go to school. In fact maybe I should go to school like Michael!" 

My voice was mockingly cheery and I hoped William caught every hint of sarcasm.

"I'm sure being the daughter of a child murderer will make me immensely popular in school. Who knows maybe I'll even be the homecoming queen and for my speech I can tell the story of how my father stabbed my best friend in her sleep! Wouldn't that be lovely!" 

My voice tipped into a British accent  when I said lovely and I knew my degradation of William had gone too far. My mother's face was a mixture of shock and rage, her fingers gripped hard onto the table, turning whiter than I thought possible. Michael cowered beside her looking as if he was about to cry, and William...WAS SMILING AT ME?!? His pearly white teeth flashed at me, although the grin did not meet his eyes and I could see the indention where his teeth were pulling at the inside of his cheek. 

"Yes, I can see why you wouldn't want to go to school, Elizabeth." He stood slowly, purposefully, but i caught the slight quiver in his hands. "Now if you'll all excuse me I believe I need to go out for a quick fag." 

Mother stood and retrieved the cigarettes and lighter I didn't know William had from the kitchen counter. He had never smoked when I was a child. 

"Thank you dear. Dinner was lovely..err...delicious." He walked out the front door without another word and through the window I saw a small flame glowing. 

I almost sighed in relief until I saw my mother glaring at me. 

"Young lady," If looks could kill I'm sure she would've burned a hole through my head. "We need to have a talk."