Life is great, but not for me!

A/N NOTICE:

Greetings readers! Is anyone actually caught up to the current chapter? If so then please leave a comment! if there are some of you that are current then I'll release some more chapters with frequency. Your feedback is integral to the construction of the story as by having an audience, I can push out more content. This chapter is also an optional one for this particular draft. The story officially starts in chapter three.

Chapter one.

Around three in the afternoon is the time I have been waking up these days. You may think that to be bizarre and you'd be right to. It's not normal, but for all of what that entails; I still do it anyway.

After I brush my teeth and rinse my face with some cold water, I usually make my way over to the kitchen to prepare some morsel of food to consume.

I guess this would be called my breakfast? I really don't think of stuff like that anyway.

I grab a stick of butter and rub the corner of it on the bottom of a pan while the pan is hot for like, maybe five seconds? I wait for the melting butter to spread out a bit before I go inside my fridge and take out some bacon and eggs.

One Egg usually does it for me. Sunnyside up. I don't like eating scrambled eggs usually because for some reason it unsettles my stomach.

I crack one egg and watch as the yoke falls down into the pan. At this point, I either simply just stare at the egg or pull out my phone. I usually enjoy simply just watching the egg though. I figure I spend enough time with tech that some time away from it would be a good thing!

*pop*

The sound of an egg trying/succeeding in its hand at a Michael bay explosion. Great.

I exhale in exasperation and I turn away from the stove and pick up a middle-sized white towel.

Turning around again I look to see just where the explosive egg pieces flew.

One piece flew into the sink and another flew down on the ground.

With a sigh, I bend over and pick up the now ruined egg piece and throw it in the trash.

"What a drag." I say aloud. I had forgotten that my favorite corner of the stove had recently shorted in a weird way. This is why I always preferred gas stoves. Electric ones just can't be trusted.

"Whatever." I say. I had not yet put the eggs back in the fridge so I reached over to get another one and crack it to begin anew, this time on a different part of the stove that wouldn't grief me.

I stared at the egg as it cooked with a pretty bored face. I could only tell because I was thinking about whether or not I was bored. Usually happens around this time anyways.

After a bit of uninterrupted peace with the egg, I reach into one of the cabinets above the stove and pull out two containers of seasoning. One was some sort of mix of spicy peppers that I thought always added another layer of deliciousness to whatever it was mixed with. The other one was just pepper. This combination could carry even the blandest dishes for me and so was my natural go-to in the morning.

I pop the caps on them both and begin to pour them akimbo style; making sure to get a healthy spread across my one and a half sunny side "likely" eggs. Satisfied with the deluge of spice, I recap the containers and put them back in the cabinet.

I reach over the cabinet next to it and open it up, revealing an assortment of paper plates on top of some glass ones. I take a single paper plate in one hand and the panhandle in the other and slide the cooked egg on the plate.

I smile to myself as I look down at the egg.

"Uwaah…! I'm so hungry I could skip the bacon!"

Just as I say that, another voice chimes in.

"You already don't eat too often so you better not."

I furrow my brow and throw my gaze over to the kitchen entrance.

It's my mom. She is a five-something-foot-tall brunette with grey irises and light stretch marks on her face due to her age. Well, more than her age.

"What's with that look?" She says.

I blink twice and smile, giggling stupidly as I realize I had just mean mugged her first thing in the morning.

"Sorry mom. Some egg no diffed me earlier and just got-"

"Right right. It's fine. Just be more mindful about it, okay?"

I hate getting cut off. I can feel one of the veins on the side of my head pop out like in cartoons, or at least, I can imagine it happening.

"I will mom. Do you want me to cook you anything while I'm in the kitchen?"

She stands there with closed eyes for a few seconds, thinking about it.

"Thanks pumpkin, but I'll just grab something on the way to work."

I nod and turn away from her and back to the stove. My mother is an executive manager at some big dental care office where she makes the big bucks so she doesn't really need to leave the house often to handle her business since she can do it online for the most part.

Anyways… The bacon. I reach down and take two bacon strips and set them down on the pan. They immediately begin to sizzle and pop. Doubly so since the bacon was thick-cut hickory-smoked or something like that. I don't really care to be honest as long as it's hardy and these ones usually are.

Time passes slowly as I watch the bacon, occasionally flipping it to get an even seer on it.

"I wonder what I'll do today." I say aloud.

"Maybe… I'll work on my book?"

Yeah. That sounds like a good idea.

Once the aroma of cooked bacon rises up into my nostrils I slide the bacon onto the plate and set the pan down on an unused part of the stove.

At this point, I'd usually immediately clean my plate and whatever spatula or utensils I used, but today I'm not feeling particularly caring to do so. It'll be there to clean later anyways.

I pick up my plate of bacon and eggs and turn heel out of the kitchen at a slow pace.

"Daniel! You had better make sure that you clean the dishes you utilized before you get comfortable eating!"

"Ah… Yes Mom! I'll be sure to do it right away!"

I say that but my feet betray my words as I continue towards my room.

"I'll set down my food and come back to clean up my mess!"

What I actually plan on doing is just closing the door and hoping that she leaves in a minute or so after. I take a seat at my desk and put my food down in front of my keyboard and just wait.

"..."

Is she gone…?

*Knock Knock*

"Daniel!"

I press my forefinger and thumb against my closed eyes and gently press as I get up from my seat and make way for the door. Naturally, my mother was waiting for me on the other side of the door and with an all too familiar face of frustration and… maybe… resignation? I don't know. All I do know is that that face is something that wracks my heart relentlessly with shame and guilt.

I silently pass her without looking too long and make my way back to the kitchen. With swift autonomous movements; I clean the pan and the other assorted utensils I've used.

"What a sorry sight I must be…"

"Mhmm! Truly unexpected from the grand creator himself! Why must you bother with such a menial task?"

Startled, I stumble over in my rush to turn and fall to the ground

"Who's there!"

Just then, the voice of my mother comes from around the corner, laced with worry.

"Daniel?!?" She says as she rounds the corner with panicked eyes.

I look up at her in confusion and wonder what the hell I had just experienced.

She rushes over to me and helps me up as much as an older woman can. I can see new stress lines forming on her face as it contorts from tearful worry.

I really am… the worst. Scum below even the lowest. I mean, how could I be anything other than that if I make my mom cry like this.

"I just… fell over mom. It's okay…."

"This is not okay Daniel! How could you say such a thing?!? You've been getting worse and worse and I don't know how to help you!"

Mom's right. I've been hearing and seeing things for a while now. The docs had said it's a side effect from the attack. The attack…? Was it not just an accident?

No. I won't think about it. I don't want to be taken hostage inside my own brain again. I need to reassure my mom that I'll be okay so she can go in peace.

"Please mom… Just give me a bit of time… I'll find another doc to see if they can help me okay? So just please calm down. It's going to be okay."

Maybe this will…

She slowly backs away from me after I've regained my standing. I can see the pain in her face and feel its sear in my heart. I look up at her one last time and smile.

"Please just don't mind me. I'll be heading into my room for the rest of the day so please continue on your own."

She just worriedly makes her way out after nodding, keeping her eyes on me the whole time.

"Mom…?"

She looks down to her side and shakes her head.

"It's nothing pumpkin. I love you."

"I love you too mom."

The following silence deafens me as she leaves the house. I stare at the door a bit before taking in a deep breath and making my way to my room. The dishes can wait until I feel better. That being said I don't know when that'll be.

"Honestly! What is the creator doing?!? Just moping around this space…! Are you sure it's really the one?"

Ah… The voices again. As my mother stated before; these voices only started after my accident. A car accident was all it was, but in that car accident, I had received a wound to the head that was grievous enough to cause lasting brain damage. At least, that's what I'm told.

"It really is the creator! I'm sure because I've watched it multiple times!"

It'd be great if these delusions stopped calling me an "It" at least.

"Well, we only call you an it because we don't know what our creator could possibly be!" Said a rather timid voice.

Oh boy. Now they're able to see what I'm thinking? A cruel joke to be sure. I roll over onto my back and stare up at the ceiling as I wait for the seemingly inevitable reply.

…

....

Are they… not going to say anything?

[End of chapter one]