the_disquiet (the_disquiet) wrote in lastexit, @ 2015-05-06 07:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | !week one, dahlia thomas |
Why do you show me those sad sad eyes
Who: Dahlia
Where: Her family home; outskirts
When: Sunday Morning
Warnings: Unhappy family dynamics
It was hot in the garage. It was hot everywhere. The house had A/C but Dahlia didn’t want to go in there. Her father had been in a fit all morning. All because she burned his eggs. She had forgotten about them; distracted by drawing in her journal she hadn’t noticed that they were overdone until smoke started to fill the kitchen. She hadn’t started a fire, this time, but her father still wasn’t happy. And didn’t want to eat the eggs. He wouldn’t even stop nagging long enough for her to ask him what she should make him instead. So she left him with a bag of bread and some butter. Which he hadn’t liked either.
She could hear him complaining still as she left the house. Making it clear that Dahlia wasn’t the only one in the family who had a tendency to talk to themselves.
The early hours gave her a small reprieve from the heat. But it didn’t last long. Soon it was too hot for clay. And too hot for paint. All the items were tucked away in the shade with all the fans she could find. It left the supplies safe, but Dahlia bored. She wanted to paint. She needed to paint.
"Just tell him to shut up, and go back inside." an ever helpful suggestion from her twin who possibly liked their father less than Dahlia even did. Dahlia sighed, tucking a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. “That is easy for you to say. He doesn’t yell at you.” A mutter as Dahlia attempted to focus back on the drawing in her journal she’d started at breakfast. "He would if he could." Dahlia’s lips quirked slightly into a grin, knowing her deceased sister was right. If their father could see her, and could hear her, he’d constantly blaming her for all the bad things that had happened too.
Though if he could hear her and could see her, he wouldn’t think Dahlia insane…
Curling her legs under her on the floor of the garage, Dahlia shifted one of the fans to blow her direction. It didn’t really do much other than blow warm air on her. She liked winter better. If it was cold she could just bring heaters out and bundle up. But the heat was different. Out in the garage she couldn’t escape it.
It didn’t help that this garage still didn’t feel right. Her family home wasn’t her home. Not really. She’d only recently moved back with her father and nothing felt right. He had settled right in; reminding Dahlia that this is where he’d last been happy. Before her birth started the downward spiral. Maybe he hadn’t said that. But he implied it. He implied a lot. Dahlia wished he’d just get better so she could go away.
But even if he didn’t like her. And she didn’t much like him. He was her father. She didn’t care for him well, but she did try. The doctors said someone had to. And like it or not, she was all he really had anymore. Or…so he made it clear. She had tried to convince him to talk to the rest of his family in town but he’d refused. She still didn’t really get why.
"You can’t just sit out here all day in the heat drawing." Dahlia glanced up from the page, a small frown decorating her features. “Why not?” Dahlia didn’t need answer; her twin’s scowl was enough. Apparently Dahlia was supposed to get out more. Go into the town. Do something. But what she wanted to do didn’t involve other people. She’d become accustomed to keeping to herself. It was better that way usually. No looks. No questions. No sympathetic glances if she spoke of her return to Last Exit. And no pats to the hand as though Dahlia were a simple thing in need of comfort. Not every time she’d gone into town had been bad. But…sometimes it was. Namely when people other people couldn’t see, became loud.
Dahlia was about to grumble out a reply but words didn’t have chance to pass her lips before she heard the garage door groaning open. Eyes narrowed a touch; suspicions confirmed when her father lumbered in. “You need a damned phone out here, I’ve been shouting for you for an hour.” He wasn’t supposed to be up much on his bad days. And today seemed like one of them. “Did you take the car in yesterday?” Dahlia made a slight face before realization dawned on her that he’d mentioned it a day or two prior. “No.” a simple reply that earned her a very common placed sigh.
“It’s Sunday. They are closed.” Were they? Dahlia wasn’t sure but it seemed like an answer that might get him out of the garage. “How do you know? Go into town and check. The car needs the oil changed.” Dahlia tucked the loose strand of hair back behind her ear again. "Go check Dahlia. Go check." Her sisters words were mocking and grating at her father stared at her. “I will go this afternoon.” She assured, but the look she received said he didn’t believe her. Shaking his head and with a grumble, he left.
Dahlia really did mean it when she said she’d go. But….she did tend to forget.