Born
Obsessed
My hand flew across the smooth page, making quick but precise lines. I could feel the corner of my mouth curl up into a devious grin. This is it, I thought to myself. I glanced at the clock, even though I didn't really care about the time.
I couldn't ignore the pain any longer. My right hand let the pencil fall so it could rest. I winced. I'd draw every second of every day if it wasn't for my damn hand cramping up on me so bad I can hardly keep a grip on the pencil.
After allowing my hand a break suddenly other aches in my body were making themselves known. My eyes felt dried up like the desert, and it hurt to close them or even blink. The hard wooden chair was terribly uncomfortable for my back. The bed in the corner with the down pillow and blanket called to me like a siren.
"I suppose you're right," I yawned to my stuff monkey I called Beebo. "Maybe I should call it a night. Besides," I gazed down at my drawing, "It's nearly finished."
I got up and turned the desk light off, letting the night cloak me as I stumbled blindly to my warm, soft bed.
I woke to the smell of coffee, burnt toast, and shuffling feet. I heaved my body up and stumbled out of my room. In the kitchen my dad was getting ready for work. He quickly straightened his tie and grabbed the paper on his way out the door.
"Briefcase," my sister Madeline called as the door shut. A second later Dad came back in to get his briefcase that sat forgotten on the chair. He grunted as he took it and headed back out.
"Coffee," Madeline reminded him, causing him to spin on his heels. She held it out to him without looking up from her book.
"Thank you, Madeline." He bent and kissed her head.
"Bye, Dad!" I said but received only the slamming of the door in response. I slouched in my chair and waited for my toast to pop up.
"You have wrinkles under your eyes," Madeline said to me but looked like she was speaking to her book. "And despite your tone, you're dead tired."
"How could you know that when you've just been reading this whole time? You must have eyes in the back of your head." I checked my reflection in the metal part body of the toaster to see if she was right about the wrinkles. I cringed.
"Technically my back wasn't facing you, so if I indeed had eyes back there, they wouldn't have seen you."
"Give me a break, Mads." I went in the fridge for some orange juice, an excuse to hide my annoyance.
"Either way you're wrong," she continued. "I just know you." Her head turned up and she met my eyes. "You stayed up all night drawing again."
Nothing new. I was naturally a night-crawler. Staying up late was routine for me. "And what was I drawing?" I asked. By this time my toast had popped up in time for me to butter it.
Madeline's eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't know because you never let me see." I understood why she was upset about that part. When Madeline was little she always enjoyed watching me draw. For some reason it fascinated her. But I got tired of explaining my drawings and why I drew what I did—why I didn't draw pictures with happy people and cute little animals, so I stopped showing them to her. I lied to her, saying I could only show them to her when they were finished. "Not like I would care," Madeline said abruptly.
"Okay," I said brightly. "I guess I won't show you then." I took a bite of my toast.
Madeline's eyes tightened a little and her eyebrows came together. "But-"
"Sorry, can't hear you," I told her. "My toast-chewing is really loud." And with that I took my leave.
In the living room my brother Lewis lounged on the couch watching Grey's Anatomy. I was pretty sure the doctors and my parents lied when they said Lewis and I were twins. We looked nothing alike. His cheekbones were higher, his hair lighter, and his legs longer. I guess when I was born I got the short end of the stick.
"If I told you how the series ended, how long would you hate me?" I asked him curiously.
"Forever," he replied easily with his eyes glued to the screen.
"House is better," I told him before turning out of the room. As I walked through the kitchen a pillow struck the back of my head. I spun around. "Alright, who did it?" I demanded.
Madeline chuckled at the table where she sat. "Who indeed." I glared at Lewis who didn't seem to move from the couch. I descended back to my room where I wouldn't be bothered.
"Hey, Beebo," I said to the stuff companion on my desk as I sat down. I yawned, considering what to do with the rest of my day. It didn't take me long to think of something. I immediately pulled out my sketchy book and all the tools I'd need.
As if it came as naturally to me as breathing, I right away continued where I left off on my drawing.
My masterpiece.
I could be working on my math, I thought as I sketched the background. I could be finishing my English essay or even studying for my biology test tomorrow.,
But I wasn't.
It seemed that lately my brain has been everywhere, just not where it should be.
I popped a stick of chewing gum in my mouth and gnawed furiously. By this point I was tapping my pencil and bouncing my legs up and down. I snapped my fingers fast and repeatedly. My sketching became more like scribbling as my hand raced back and forth across the page.
Suddenly I couldn't take it anymore. I ripped the glasses off my face and bolted out of the room. The bathroom was just one door down.
With pale fingers gripping the edge of the sink tightly I turned my head up to look at a gril with a milk-colored complexion and deep green eyes. Framing those eyes were thick lashes. I scratched my forehead and the girl mimicked my movements, pushing aside her severe, razor-straight bangs that almost fell in the way of her eyes.
I sighed and put my hand down, as did she.
"Copy cat," I accused and reached into the cabinet. I pulled out a white canister and shook it. What was inside rattled loudly. I popped the child-proof top off with ease.
The pill balanced on the tip of my finger as I stared at it like I expected something magical to happen. When it was clear Houdini wasn't going to jump out of the cabinet and make the pill disappear I placed it on my tongue. After I swallowed I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
When I walked back to my room I could hear the T.V. still on and a page of a book turning. Surely they have other things to do, I thought to myself.
I looked down at the drawing on my desk. It was a drawing of a land I called Flutura. Beyond the thick, dark forest was a huge clearing with a castle resting on the highest hill. The castle was made out of mahogany-colored bricks and dozens of windows all stained glasses bearing images of wild beasts under the starry night sky. Looking at it all made me smile.
After being in my room for a good part of the day there was a knock on the door.
"Lottie, what do you want for dinner?" my sister asked. Since we no longer had a mother, and our dad was working until late evening almost every day, Madeline sort of became the mommy. She cooked most of the meals and washed most of the clothes, but she did all the cleaning. We, meaning Lewis and I, didn't ask her to do everything for us, but she felt it was her duty and responsibility. She was highly mature for a fourteen-year-old.
"I don't know," I called back. "What does Lewis want?" I was currently in the middle of stacking all my soda cans into one giant pyramid.
Madeline opened the door and stood in the middle of my room. The pyramid shudder.
"Careful," I warned.
"Lew wants grilled cheese," she said.
"Then grilled cheese it is," I mumbled, not bothering to turn and face her.
There was a pause and then she said, "Don't you have something better to do?"
"That's funny—I ask myself that question every day." Out of my peripheral vision I could see Madeline looking through the pages of my sketch book.
"Shouldn't you be yacking away on the phone with one of your friends about boys or something?"
"Nope." I wasn't in the mood for conversation, and she could tell.
"You are so weird, Charlotte." And with that said she sighed and let me be.
Alone. That's how I preferred it. That's how I liked it.
I'm sure my behavior resembled that of a mad man's—the way I flew to my sketch book and flipped through it like the world was to end tomorrow. I grabbed my pencil and started scribbling. This was how it started.
Who knows how long it was until I emerged from my room. Down the hall I could hear Lewis in his room strumming away at his guitar.
I entered the kitchen, walking off carpet to meet cool tile with my bare feet. Madeline was removing plates from the table with the faucet filling the sink up behind her. Watching her play Mom gave me the feeling of guilt. She did everything as I watched and accomplished nothing but piling more crap on her to-do list.
"Let me help you," I offered though I wasn't sure what to do.
"No need. I already got everything." She turned and met my eyes with a hard stare. She was definitely annoyed with me.
"Sit down, Charlotte," she said and I obeyed immediately. Her tone held great authority and for a moment she was our mother. She had the same curly hair and identical set of eyes. The way her face tightened when she was serious. It was all too familiar. I felt completely helpless under my mother's hazel stare.
I sat and waited while she scrubbed off a plate. "You hungry?" she asked. "We had grilled cheese for dinner." Her tone made it obvious that she wasn't pleased I sat in my room all day.
"No, I think I'm good," I told her.
Suddenly her hand she held the washcloth in came down and slapped it on the counter. I folded my arms and waited. When she turned and looked at me her expression was softer. "I'm worried about you," she said as she sat down across from me.
"...Why?" I asked, perplexed.
She sighed. "Every day you shut yourself away and isolate yourself in that room. You never eat—"
"I ate this morning!"
She gave me a pointed look. "You had a piece of toast. Look at you, Charlotte. You're as skinny as a rail and look like you haven't had a good night's rest in days. You spend hours in your room drawing. It's not healthy."
"Who says?"
"I do."
"I beg to differ."
"It's worse than the MarioKart phase you went through," she exclaimed.
"Admit it though—I have mad skills." I made little screeching sound effects as I pretended to be steering a steering wheel.
"You're obsessed."
I stood up and leaned over the table. I could feel a grin slide into place on my face as I looked down at her. "So maybe I am."
I couldn't ignore the pain any longer. My right hand let the pencil fall so it could rest. I winced. I'd draw every second of every day if it wasn't for my damn hand cramping up on me so bad I can hardly keep a grip on the pencil.
After allowing my hand a break suddenly other aches in my body were making themselves known. My eyes felt dried up like the desert, and it hurt to close them or even blink. The hard wooden chair was terribly uncomfortable for my back. The bed in the corner with the down pillow and blanket called to me like a siren.
"I suppose you're right," I yawned to my stuff monkey I called Beebo. "Maybe I should call it a night. Besides," I gazed down at my drawing, "It's nearly finished."
I got up and turned the desk light off, letting the night cloak me as I stumbled blindly to my warm, soft bed.
I woke to the smell of coffee, burnt toast, and shuffling feet. I heaved my body up and stumbled out of my room. In the kitchen my dad was getting ready for work. He quickly straightened his tie and grabbed the paper on his way out the door.
"Briefcase," my sister Madeline called as the door shut. A second later Dad came back in to get his briefcase that sat forgotten on the chair. He grunted as he took it and headed back out.
"Coffee," Madeline reminded him, causing him to spin on his heels. She held it out to him without looking up from her book.
"Thank you, Madeline." He bent and kissed her head.
"Bye, Dad!" I said but received only the slamming of the door in response. I slouched in my chair and waited for my toast to pop up.
"You have wrinkles under your eyes," Madeline said to me but looked like she was speaking to her book. "And despite your tone, you're dead tired."
"How could you know that when you've just been reading this whole time? You must have eyes in the back of your head." I checked my reflection in the metal part body of the toaster to see if she was right about the wrinkles. I cringed.
"Technically my back wasn't facing you, so if I indeed had eyes back there, they wouldn't have seen you."
"Give me a break, Mads." I went in the fridge for some orange juice, an excuse to hide my annoyance.
"Either way you're wrong," she continued. "I just know you." Her head turned up and she met my eyes. "You stayed up all night drawing again."
Nothing new. I was naturally a night-crawler. Staying up late was routine for me. "And what was I drawing?" I asked. By this time my toast had popped up in time for me to butter it.
Madeline's eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't know because you never let me see." I understood why she was upset about that part. When Madeline was little she always enjoyed watching me draw. For some reason it fascinated her. But I got tired of explaining my drawings and why I drew what I did—why I didn't draw pictures with happy people and cute little animals, so I stopped showing them to her. I lied to her, saying I could only show them to her when they were finished. "Not like I would care," Madeline said abruptly.
"Okay," I said brightly. "I guess I won't show you then." I took a bite of my toast.
Madeline's eyes tightened a little and her eyebrows came together. "But-"
"Sorry, can't hear you," I told her. "My toast-chewing is really loud." And with that I took my leave.
In the living room my brother Lewis lounged on the couch watching Grey's Anatomy. I was pretty sure the doctors and my parents lied when they said Lewis and I were twins. We looked nothing alike. His cheekbones were higher, his hair lighter, and his legs longer. I guess when I was born I got the short end of the stick.
"If I told you how the series ended, how long would you hate me?" I asked him curiously.
"Forever," he replied easily with his eyes glued to the screen.
"House is better," I told him before turning out of the room. As I walked through the kitchen a pillow struck the back of my head. I spun around. "Alright, who did it?" I demanded.
Madeline chuckled at the table where she sat. "Who indeed." I glared at Lewis who didn't seem to move from the couch. I descended back to my room where I wouldn't be bothered.
"Hey, Beebo," I said to the stuff companion on my desk as I sat down. I yawned, considering what to do with the rest of my day. It didn't take me long to think of something. I immediately pulled out my sketchy book and all the tools I'd need.
As if it came as naturally to me as breathing, I right away continued where I left off on my drawing.
My masterpiece.
I could be working on my math, I thought as I sketched the background. I could be finishing my English essay or even studying for my biology test tomorrow.,
But I wasn't.
It seemed that lately my brain has been everywhere, just not where it should be.
I popped a stick of chewing gum in my mouth and gnawed furiously. By this point I was tapping my pencil and bouncing my legs up and down. I snapped my fingers fast and repeatedly. My sketching became more like scribbling as my hand raced back and forth across the page.
Suddenly I couldn't take it anymore. I ripped the glasses off my face and bolted out of the room. The bathroom was just one door down.
With pale fingers gripping the edge of the sink tightly I turned my head up to look at a gril with a milk-colored complexion and deep green eyes. Framing those eyes were thick lashes. I scratched my forehead and the girl mimicked my movements, pushing aside her severe, razor-straight bangs that almost fell in the way of her eyes.
I sighed and put my hand down, as did she.
"Copy cat," I accused and reached into the cabinet. I pulled out a white canister and shook it. What was inside rattled loudly. I popped the child-proof top off with ease.
The pill balanced on the tip of my finger as I stared at it like I expected something magical to happen. When it was clear Houdini wasn't going to jump out of the cabinet and make the pill disappear I placed it on my tongue. After I swallowed I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
When I walked back to my room I could hear the T.V. still on and a page of a book turning. Surely they have other things to do, I thought to myself.
I looked down at the drawing on my desk. It was a drawing of a land I called Flutura. Beyond the thick, dark forest was a huge clearing with a castle resting on the highest hill. The castle was made out of mahogany-colored bricks and dozens of windows all stained glasses bearing images of wild beasts under the starry night sky. Looking at it all made me smile.
After being in my room for a good part of the day there was a knock on the door.
"Lottie, what do you want for dinner?" my sister asked. Since we no longer had a mother, and our dad was working until late evening almost every day, Madeline sort of became the mommy. She cooked most of the meals and washed most of the clothes, but she did all the cleaning. We, meaning Lewis and I, didn't ask her to do everything for us, but she felt it was her duty and responsibility. She was highly mature for a fourteen-year-old.
"I don't know," I called back. "What does Lewis want?" I was currently in the middle of stacking all my soda cans into one giant pyramid.
Madeline opened the door and stood in the middle of my room. The pyramid shudder.
"Careful," I warned.
"Lew wants grilled cheese," she said.
"Then grilled cheese it is," I mumbled, not bothering to turn and face her.
There was a pause and then she said, "Don't you have something better to do?"
"That's funny—I ask myself that question every day." Out of my peripheral vision I could see Madeline looking through the pages of my sketch book.
"Shouldn't you be yacking away on the phone with one of your friends about boys or something?"
"Nope." I wasn't in the mood for conversation, and she could tell.
"You are so weird, Charlotte." And with that said she sighed and let me be.
Alone. That's how I preferred it. That's how I liked it.
I'm sure my behavior resembled that of a mad man's—the way I flew to my sketch book and flipped through it like the world was to end tomorrow. I grabbed my pencil and started scribbling. This was how it started.
Who knows how long it was until I emerged from my room. Down the hall I could hear Lewis in his room strumming away at his guitar.
I entered the kitchen, walking off carpet to meet cool tile with my bare feet. Madeline was removing plates from the table with the faucet filling the sink up behind her. Watching her play Mom gave me the feeling of guilt. She did everything as I watched and accomplished nothing but piling more crap on her to-do list.
"Let me help you," I offered though I wasn't sure what to do.
"No need. I already got everything." She turned and met my eyes with a hard stare. She was definitely annoyed with me.
"Sit down, Charlotte," she said and I obeyed immediately. Her tone held great authority and for a moment she was our mother. She had the same curly hair and identical set of eyes. The way her face tightened when she was serious. It was all too familiar. I felt completely helpless under my mother's hazel stare.
I sat and waited while she scrubbed off a plate. "You hungry?" she asked. "We had grilled cheese for dinner." Her tone made it obvious that she wasn't pleased I sat in my room all day.
"No, I think I'm good," I told her.
Suddenly her hand she held the washcloth in came down and slapped it on the counter. I folded my arms and waited. When she turned and looked at me her expression was softer. "I'm worried about you," she said as she sat down across from me.
"...Why?" I asked, perplexed.
She sighed. "Every day you shut yourself away and isolate yourself in that room. You never eat—"
"I ate this morning!"
She gave me a pointed look. "You had a piece of toast. Look at you, Charlotte. You're as skinny as a rail and look like you haven't had a good night's rest in days. You spend hours in your room drawing. It's not healthy."
"Who says?"
"I do."
"I beg to differ."
"It's worse than the MarioKart phase you went through," she exclaimed.
"Admit it though—I have mad skills." I made little screeching sound effects as I pretended to be steering a steering wheel.
"You're obsessed."
I stood up and leaned over the table. I could feel a grin slide into place on my face as I looked down at her. "So maybe I am."