Eggs and Toast Anyone?

It was an early morning. Too early for starters. But I still had to get up so I could make breakfast for everyone. With my feet going at the mahogany floor like a cat chasing a tiny mouse, I rushed to the kitchen. The sun wasn't even up and everyone was suppose to be asleep for a couple more hours. Nonetheless, work had to be done. But nothing can come close to perfection in this world. It's true for all of us. Humans. Animals. With making simple eggs on the stove and bread warming up in the toaster, I heard the door behind me slam shut. Like a gun shot firing and next stomping on the victimized floor. I budged a little as my father came into the kitchen. I just stared at my father for a moment and then turned around as I took the eggs off the pan. Moving it to a clean white plate, I put two sunny side eggs side-by-side.

"Here." I said, eyes casting down.

He took them. He put them on the small kitchen table. He ate the eggs. I went to make more.

"So it's summer for you now?" He started off.

I nodded. "Yep."

"You have any plans today?" He chewed on the white protein.

I wished for the sun to come out that moment. The cold air made me shiver in my purple fuzzy socks.

"Yes." The lie slipped between my teeth as I wanted to be silent. If anything, there are two things my father taught me ever since I was younger: when to talk and when to close doors. At that moment, I was trying to do both. One more stranious then the other.

I suddenly smelt burning toast.

I let out a scream as I quickly got out the poor creature that I left to dry. It was almost dead. Dead in my eyes.

"If no one wants that, just give that to me." My father tried to encourage me.

I'm pathetic. 

"Why over a piece of toast?" I whispered to myself.

I then quickly swallowed it as I handed the slice of brick to my father. At that moment, I was just wishing to leave the room. He took a turn to notice this.

"You...You alright kiddo?"

I folded my arms and stared at him. I turned the stove off as I took a breath to let the steam out.

"You already know. Why should I tell you? I'm not stupid anymore."

"It's still good for your mind to say the problems aloud." His conscious speaking to me.

I wanted to spit back. Knowing that to show my teenager-self would be a terrible image, I tried to talk back with my inner self. If you would had seen me in black-and-white vision, my eyes would had changed from a dark grey to a sudden light sky blue. And that color would be pouring over my cheeks slowly. My hands would had been turning red as I turned them into fists. My chest would had been glowing pale yellow as I chocked on my feelings to form to words to be transferred to the brain and finally coming down to my vocal chords. The only color that would had been left safe to stay in color would be my purple socks. The soft comfort. The saved warmth.

I took a quick breath to speak.

Then two.

Three.

Four.

And ended with a scream as I cried to the floor. Fork and knife suddenly danced under the table. My father came to me as he held me silently.

"I'm sorry." The words slipped to me.

I then felt color brought back to the whole world as, finally, the sunlight faded into the room. And I was no longer, freezing cold.