Breathe Me

• Prologue •

I laid in bed. Headphones plugged into my ears, music blasting. My legs tangled within my covers. I faded in the dim light of my bedroom.

My eyes snapped open, as icy air trickled upon my exposed skin. I wobbled over to the window, shutting it. I swear I had shut it. Maybe I forgot.

I pulled out my headphones, pausing the music, heading downstairs. My parents should be home, anytime. They work late. I spend most of my time home. Alone.

Once again, icy air scratched upon my bare skin. I followed the trail of the night air. I found another open window, in my living room. These open windows.. Did I forget to close them all?

I broke from my inner trance, as I heard the floor creak. Not because of me.

"Whose there?" I called out, my voice shook. I stepped forward.

Aching silence overwhelmed me. I was probably just hearing things.

The sound of a parked car, filled my ears. I sighed in relief. They're finally home.

The front door opened. An exhausted pair of parents walked through the door.

"What are you doing up this late, missy?" My dad spoke. I giggled, walking over to him and he pulled me into a hug. My mom leaned over and placed a kiss on my forehead.

"I'm so sorry, we came this late. Traffic was horrible, and the car broke down half way here." They had been gone for the past two weekends. "But, they've finally decided to give us a break, and moved the business here." My mom nearly squeaked.

I smiled. Wow, they changed the business to here? How's that going to help? I'll still be unable to see you all day, constantly running in and out of the house, you've forgotten about me.

I broke from my thoughts, as I heard footsteps up the stairs.

"Goodnight honey," they called as they slipped into their bedroom. "Shut off the light, please!" I rolled my eyes and shut the lights off. I headed upstairs, back into my bedroom.

I shut my door quietly and slid into bed. Thinking,

Countless nights alone. Countless nights awaiting. Countless nights of unhappiness. Countless nights hurting,..

• * •