This Year Caitlain McAuley
“ Maybe this year will be different.”
I lay among my soft bed covers, barely stirring, even as the alarm clock screamed in my ear. The room around me spun every time I dared to open my eyes, casting everything I knew into a chaotic blur. I felt... disconnected from reality, as if all ties I had with it had been severed by a malicious, unknown being. Still, I knew that my family were waiting for me downstairs.
Begrudgingly, I heaved myself out of bed, blindly fumbling for the clock on my bedside cabinet. I lifted my hands to my eyes, rubbing them raw. Honestly, I felt like allowing my body to collapse, giving up on all I had strived for that morning. Thing is, I didn’ t. I understood why my relations wished to see me, but I saw no reason in it. I had to pretend that I enjoyed the torture of listening to grandma’ s tales of“ the good old days”, and dad’ s roast dinner. Somehow, he always managed to incinerate anything anyone trusted him to cook( although to be quite honest nobody ever trusted him to even enter the kitchen). There was also my mother, who insisted on bringing out all the embarrassing photos of my youth, particularly the ones of when I was in the bath. Finally, there’ s my sister. Ever since we were young, we’ ve been rivals to the core. Everything has always been a competitive sport.
The event I had been absolutely dreading was here … Easter Dinner.