The Hours We Have

chapter five

I was always exhausted. 

It didn't matter if I got a full night's rest, my soul was tired. I was tired of fighting when the world just kept spinning against me. After my shift was over in the afternoon, I had stopped at the pharmacy across the street to pick up another supply of melatonin. We were all taking melatonin to sleep at night and it was a natural herbal formula so thank god we weren't addicted. At least something could help. 

There had been numerous doctors and therapists that suggested we take different medications for the first few weeks after our parent's murder. It had been something the police department required, as we were newly orphaned and they expected psychological issues. Mikeal had never really liked medication, not even simple cold medicine, and I wasn't keen on the idea of the addiction. I didn't want to rely on a drug to make me feel better. 

It didn't really matter anyway because once we lost our parent's insurance, we could barely afford to keep the house anyway. I suppose it was a blessing in disguise because it would have been extremely easy for us to take a dangerous path. Luckily, Mikeal had only gotten drunk once and then he promised to never do it again. 

Ezra, on the other hand, I had my suspicions that he was hitting the bars in town and he just never told anyone. Maybe that's why he never came home after he was upset because he was blacked out somewhere in an alley. I really hated how sneaky he was. However, if I ever found him to be smoking, he wouldn't just have my wrath to face. Mikeal was against any form of smoking, too, and it was one of our rules in the house. 

I sighed, twisting the key in the lock on my front door, and I pushed my way inside with a few bags rustling on my arms. I heard the television on in the living room as I kicked off my shoes and I glanced in to find the twins gaming. I set the bags on the counter and went to walk around only to step in something slimy. 

I froze and looked down to find the trash can overflowing from beneath the counter and a container of ranch sauce had spilled across the floor--exactly what I had stepped in. I also noticed a pizza box shoved in among the rest of the trash. I frowned, peeled off my disgusting sock and discarded it in the trash, then I marched into the living room. 

"Alright, who ordered pizza?" I demanded from the twins. 

They didn't even look at me, their eyes glued on their game. "Ezra, he didn't want to cook." 

I rolled my eyes. "Did you at least save me some?" 

Julian shrugged sheepishly. "Uh.. no, sorry." 

"Thanks," I said dryly, "Roman, can you take the trash out?" 

Roman shot me an annoyed glance. "I took it out last week." 

"And?" I crossed my arms, "I do the dishes every day and the laundry every week." 

"No, this isn't fair!" Roman whined, "Julian is right here, make him do it." 

"Geez, shut up!" His twin hissed, "I'm so tired of doing everything that you don't want to, just take the trash out and stop being a baby." 

Roman scowled, "Why do you keep getting out of everything? Huh? Just because you're the youngest doesn't mean you get special treatment around here." 

"Roman enough!" I snapped, "Get up and take out the trash. Now." 

"Fine!" He paused their game and threw his controller across the coffee table, "Whatever you say, Mom." He said, mockingly, as he passed me into the kitchen. 

My breath caught for a moment before I exhaled. I heard him grumbling under his breath but my eyes settled on Julian. He had leaned back with a tired sigh and when he dropped his hand from his face, I saw light bruises peppering his jaw. My own jaw clenched but I willed myself not to say anything. I wished I didn't care so much, but I always do.