CloverRock: Thank you very much.

K. : Because turning on the hot water first can burn people. Especially little kids. So we're always taught to do the cold water first.

RainingInMyHead: Thanks and I'm glad?

tarredglittered: Hopefully no one will be disappointed...I hope you do :o

Cherise: No, he wasn't the only one getting abused :)

SatisfyAnEmptyInside: It's probably pointless answering this because you're not actually reading it.

ElliKat: Never tried Burger King. But I am a fan of Hungry Jacks? Bathroom explanations are always fun. Especially when there's sarcasm involved.

Mage Dudette: Yeah he is an idiot. But there's time for him to change :)

Ronja Yale: I know what you mean. I'd probably be the same.

chocolatedemon: We'll find out soon :D Well, you'll find out soon because I already know

Amateur Imaginationist: Thank you, glad you like it. I love sarcastic characters. There's just something about them. And yeah, I got a review from them/it. I do blame you.

The Real R&C: Sugar is the best. And thanks :o For the...insanity.

A sigh escapes my lips. I shut my eyes, letting my mind plunge into darkness for a second before I open them again and find myself looking back at the ceiling. The same ceiling I've been staring at for the past four hours. And it doesn't even feel like it's been four hours. It feels like it's been half an hour, maybe.

It's staring to get light. A bit of hair blows over my forehead, causing the skin to itch. I try to ignore it but it gets worse with every second and eventually I can't take it anymore. I scratch it, still looking up at the stupid ceiling. I didn't have the best sleep. It was restless and uneasy, which I guess is nothing new anyway. I pull the sheet up to my chin and another sigh rumbles in my chest. The bed is pretty comfortable. It's nice and hard and I like that. Soft beds make my back ache after a while. I twist my head to the side and Tuesday's still buried under the sheets on the fold-up bed, asleep. Lucky him.

I wonder if Sam's awake yet and if she is, what she is thinking. Did she sleep well? Or was it as horrible as mine? Sometimes I think I'm too overprotective but I can't help it. Making sure she's okay is my job.

I close my eyes again and I'm just starting to relax again, just starting to drift off into a blissfully empty mood when a loud, piercing screech fills the air. I jerk upward with a jolt, my heart hammering in my throat.

The lump on the other bed moves and a hand creeps out, digging into the mass of junk beside the bed. The hand emerges a couple of seconds later with an alarm clock, flashing madly. He throws it back down again, hard. It hits the ground with a bang and there's no more screeching, just sweet silence.

Tuesday sits up slowly, the sheets falling down around his waist. He throws a hand over his mouth to hide his yawn, swinging his long legs over the side of the bed. I stare at him, wondering why the hell he would have an alarm set for this time of the morning. It's only five o'clock; no one gets up that early on a Saturday.

He tilts his head to the side and scratches his neck, his eyes still closed. His hair is a tangled mess. He opens his eyes and looks stunned for a second. Probably forgotten all about yesterday. Then he must remember who I am and what I'm doing in his bed because his face relaxes.

"Forgot you were here. Did that wake you up?"

I shake my head. He doesn't need to know I've been awake for hours. "No, it's okay. Don't worry about it."

"I wasn't apologising," he retorts, trying to pull his hair through his hand. He winces when it just gets tangled in knots, withdrawing his fingers. "Son of a bitch," he mutters, throwing the sheets off and standing. He stretches his arms up over his head, making a satisfied noise. His eyes crack open and he peers down at me. "You look like crap."

Nice to know. I keep my mouth shut, not wanting to start an argument or anything.

He stalks over to the window and opens it, breathing deeply. "Gotta love the fresh morning air." He turns around and folds his arms over his narrow chest, his dark eyebrows knitted together. "Breakfast?"

"Huh?"

He lets out an exaggerated sigh. "Do. You. Want. Breakfast?"

At the mere mention of food my stomach rumbles. "Um... yeah. Okay." I push the blanket off gently and slowly stand, rubbing my left shoulder with my right hand.

"Come on then." He strides over to the door and pulls it open, disappearing into the hallway. I tiptoe after him, glancing around the dark hallway. It looks like no one else is awake.

"Why are you up so early, anyway?" I ask trying to seem friendly. We reach the kitchen and I stand by the bench, leaning on it awkwardly. He opens up the cupboard, digging around in it.

"I go for a run this time every morning. Wakes me up, gets me ready for the day, all that shit. What do you want?"

"For breakfast? Um, whatever, I'm not really fussy." Since I don't know what they have I can't really pick, can I?

"Good, because you're getting Sultana Bran whether you like it or not." He puts the purple box on the bench and pulls two identical green bowls from nowhere. "Since you're a big boy, I'm pretty sure you can get it yourself."

He pours himself a bowl and hands me the box. I've never really liked sultanas or bran but I don't care enough to argue. I pour it out carefully, making sure I don't spill anything.

"Milk." He pushes the carton over to me and I add it, being ever-so-careful. "You want juice?" He holds up the bottle and I realise he's already poured himself a glass.

"Er, no. Thanks," I say, being polite. He practically pegs a spoon at me and I barely manage to catch it before it hits my head.

"No problem," He says smugly, taking his bowl in one hand and glass in the other as he saunters into the lounge room. I linger there for a moment, not knowing if I should follow or not. I decide to take my chances.

The TV's on, the volume down low and it looks like the news. I kneel between the couch and coffee table so that I don't spill anything. I suddenly wonder if what happened will end up on the news. He was arrested. They usually talk about this type of stuff, don't they?

For now, they're still talking about Iraq, which is nothing new or interesting.

Tuesday finishes his breakfast in record time, leaving the bowl and glass on the table. He goes back upstairs without another word and I poke at my now-soggy cereal, not hungry anymore. The news reporter is talking about a woman who accidentally sunk her new husband's yacht. How did that make the news? Who really cares about a dumb boat?

I turn at the footsteps and Tuesday whizzes past, taking his bowl and glass with him. He returns from the kitchen empty-handed. He's changed from his white shirt and boxers to another plain white shirt and black shorts. "Don't break anything. In fact, just to be safe, don't touch anything. Shannon should be awake soon, anyway."

He opens the glass door and it squeals a bit, causing me to flinch. I'm a little nervous about waking anyone up. It's still so early.

I hear him moving about outside, putting his shoes on maybe, and then the click of the gate and that's it. I'm alone again.

I take my bowl into the kitchen and pour the cereal down the sink, making sure it's all washed down. I feel guilty for wasting their food but I don't think I can eat another bite.

And now there's nothing to do.

I sit back down on the couch even though I don't feel like watching TV. Eventually, I just turn it off and sit there in silence, tapping my fingers against the cushion absently. It's a nice house, clean and tidy and all that. Obviously a lot better than our excuse for a house.

Where are we going to go next?

That's what I hate the most, I think. The uncertainty. I have no idea what's going to happen to us, where we're going to be, who we'll be with. If we'll even be together. I sit up straight and I can't believe I haven't considered that before. We could be split up.

That thought terrifies me. I don't think I could live without Sam. Not right now, anyway. Right now I need her, she's keeping me grounded. We can't be separated, we just can't.

I get so wrapped up in worrying that I don't even hear the stairs creak. If they do.

"What the hell are you doing here in the dark?" Shannon stops mid-step and stares at me like I'm an alien. She's already dressed in a dark green shirt that covers next to nothing and jeans that may be just painted on. I shrug, keeping my eyes on my bare feet because somehow I'm too embarrassed to look up at her.

"Did Tuesday's stupid alarm wake you up?"

"Yeah." It didn't really, but I say it anyway.

"You get used to it." There's a tiny fraction of a pause. "Wait, you won't have to. Lucky," She adds indifferently and I listen to her walking into the kitchen.

I look up at the blank TV screen, wishing Sam would hurry and wake so I'd have someone familiar to talk to.

"When mum wakes up tell her I'll be back at lunch." She stops at the doorway and peers at me. Her eyelashes are caked with mascara. I'm amazed they don't break under all that weight. "You look like you should go back to bed."

"I'm okay..."

"Whatever." She bends over to adjust the strap of her shoe and I glance away, not daring to look again until she's standing straight again.

She gets to the front door and stops again. "Don't break anything," she says in this sugar-sweet warning voice and I scowl because I'm not a little kid. What makes them think I want to break anything?

The gate clicks and I sigh, leaning right back into the couch. It's so comfortable. It's so quiet. I close my eyes, trying to relax.

"Go away," I mumble drowsily as something brushes against my leg. I drift off to sleep again, nuzzling the soft cushions.

I jolt awake as something whips painfully across my ear. I wince and rub it gently.

"About fucking time," Tuesday drawls and I realise he must've flicked me to wake me up or something. Whatever he did, it bloody hurt.

"Sorry," I mutter. How long was I asleep for? I don't even remember falling asleep.

He sits down beside me to untie his shoes. Sweat trickles down his forehead and he wipes it away, mumbling something.

"Huh?" I ask stupidly.

"If I wanted you to hear it I would've said it louder." He sneers, pushing his shoes under the coffee table. Christ. Is he always this snappy in the morning? I hope not.

"Sorry," I say stiffly, rubbing my eyes. "Do you know what the time is?"

He stands up and stretches his arms high over his head. I flinch as his hand narrowly misses the fan. That would've been messy. "Do you know what a clock is?"

"Oh." I finally notice the small oval clock hanging from the wall, near the corner. "I didn't see that."

He snorts incredulously, in an I-can't-believe-you're-that-stupid way. "Of course."

It's 8:03. I was asleep for a couple of hours. That's good. It's better than nothing. I just can't believe I fell asleep that easily when I was having trouble doing it last night.

"Oh, um, Shannon went out." I rub my forehead and he gives me an icy look on his way out.

"Do I care?"

Oh for god's sakes. I can't do anything right around here. This time I don't bother apologising, not that it matters because he's already half-way up the stairs. They, he, acts like it's my fault I'm intruding on their territory. It isn't. I didn't choose to come here and if I was able to choose, I wouldn't have chosen here.

I get up to stretch my legs and because I have nowhere else to go, I shuffle into the kitchen. I can hear the shower upstairs running and I'm assuming it's Tuesday.

I drag my fingers over the bench top aimlessly, my mind blanking out. It's nice. Not thinking of anything, I mean.

"Oh, didn't know you were up."

I whirl around at the sudden voice but it's just Tania. Her hair's a mess and she yawns, trudging over to the kettle. She looks like she just woke up.

"Yeah." My fingers come to a stop and I watch her fill the kettle from the tap.

"Sorry if Tuesday woke you." She sets it back down and turns it on. "He's always been an early bird. When he was little, no matter what time we sent him to bed, he'd be up at 3:00 without fail. It drove us crazy," she adds with a sleepy laugh. I smile half-heartedly just because it's polite.

"How'd you sleep?"

I shrug nonchalantly. "Okay."

She smiles and we just stand there a while, listening to the kettle boiling. "Do you want a coffee?"

I shake my head. "No thanks."

"Have you had breakfast?" She eyes the bowls in the sink and I nod sheepishly, not sure if I'm about to get into trouble or not.

"That's good."

I relax and she moves around, making the coffee. I remember Shannon and tell her that she's gone out. Tania just nods, carefully stirring the steaming coffee. "Coming outside?"

So I follow her because I have nothing else to do and I'm starting to go crazy from boredom.

It's hot outside, the sun frying everything it touches. I pull the chair into the shadows and wait for a minute before daring to sit down. Tania does the same thing.

"How're you feeling today?" she asks, licking a drop of coffee off the rim of the cup. I lean back in the chair, shrugging a bit.

"Okay."

She raises her eyebrows. "Really?" Then she shakes her head, tsking. "Sorry, I shouldn't pry."

"It's fine." I rub my arm vacantly.

"I was just making sure you're not... that you're alright after yesterday." She takes a small sip and puts the cup back down. "Too hot."

"I'm fine," I say tiredly. "Just... kinda tired, I guess." I shrug again, uncomfortable.

"You're free to go back to bed if you like." She smiles. "You can spend the whole weekend in bed. It's up to you. I'm just letting you do whatever you feel you need to do to be okay again."

Okay again?

I'm not sure I was ever okay in the first place.

But I just give a weary smile and stare off into nothing. It's peaceful.

After a while she takes another careful sip. "Sam's still asleep, I presume."

"Yeah. We've had a few late nights," I say vaguely.

"Of course." She puts her cup down again and it clinks. "Look... I do have to apologise for the twins. If they seem a little off it's just because they're not used to sharing the house with people they don't know. We've only just started doing foster care and they didn't exactly warm to the idea." She smiles amusedly. "Especially Tuesday. And if he does play up, let me know. I know what he can be like. Don't get me wrong, I love my kids to death, but he can be a bit of a snotty brat sometimes."

I smile grimly. "Yeah..."

"Let me know if he's stirring you. I'll pull him back in line."

It's good that she's aware he isn't being the nicest person right now. Makes me feel a bit better.

She sits back and drinks her coffee properly, staring off into the small yard with a frown. We hear stomping and the door slides open.

"Speak of the devil." Tania smiles. "Hey, baby."

Tuesday rolls his eyes and sits down on the floor, leaning back against the doorframe. "Do you have to be awake?"

"Parent abuse." Tania grins back at me. I stifle a smile and Tuesday combs his damp hair with his fingers, randomly placing bits of hair over his forehead.

"Do you know where your sister went?"

"Nope, and I don't care enough to want to know."

Tania shakes her head. "I hope you and Sam aren't as bad as this."

"We get on pretty well most of the time."

Tuesday stands up, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Take this with you." Tania hands him the empty coffee cup and he goes back inside, closing the door behind him. Tania smiles back at me and scratches her hair. "Do you want something for that bruise? Any cream or anything?"

I touch the bruise on my face and I'd totally forgotten it was there. "It's okay. But thanks."

"I'm guessing that's the reason you're here."

"I... yeah," I admit quietly, folding my hands in my lap.

"Well then, I hope whoever done it gets what they deserve." She leans across and squeezes my arm supportively.

"Me too," I mutter. God, me too.

We turn as the door opens again but this time it's Sam, half-asleep. She yawns, rubbing her eyes.

"Hi hon," Tania says energetically. "You want some brekky?"