Break of Day

10) A Glimpse of Apple Pie

The gentle thrumming of the soft rain left a growing annoyance in me, each drop hitting the roof or the windowsill grew the mounting frustration. At first, the sound had soothed me, more calming than any music. Yet, the longer I worked on this infernal paper, taking a long sip of water every time none of the websites would provide me with the information I needed or when the works didn't come the way I wanted.

Shoving myself away from the desk, I slipped over my bed to the window. Though I was wholly intent on slamming it shut, the widow had other ideas and chose to get stuck.

Stretching my hand, I wanted to scream, to throw something. I wanted everything to stop. There was too much going on and not even at the same time. The pounding of the rain made me twitch, the clattering of glass against itself as Mare — I supposed since it was her week— washed the dishes made my skin crawl, the panting of my computer as it worked to keep its temperature regulated made me want to throw it out the window.

And my fucking paper.

I couldn't find a single source that would help me and everything kept bringing up stupid novels like The Vampire Diaries that had nothing to do with the history of vampires. This was a stupid topic.

Everything was too much and I needed everything to stop.

The pain wasn't sharp or pulsing, but it was sudden. A jolt to my system as my fist slammed against my thigh. It helped, somehow, the pain as I brought my fist to my thigh again and again and again. I knew it would bruise, and the bruise would hurt. I knew that every time I was stressed or anything felt like too much I was going to jab my finger into it, to reignite the pain until the bruise healed.

As my thoughts began to quiet, the noises were easier to ignore, to block out and pretend I didn't notice them.

The collecting water on my windowsill was cool against my palms. The air was sharp and earthy in the gentle breeze whispering through my window, dancing with my lace curtains. Normally, the wind pushed the rain to the side, away from my window, but today, even the rain was against me.

The sky was a tapestry of deep clouds that were so heavy, they had stretched out towards the ground, making it impossible to see far past my window or tell the time of day. The only way I had to tell how long I had been working was the clock on my computer. I knew I had trapped myself in here all weekend. If someone asked, I wouldn't be able to tell them if I had eaten or not.

Had I even left my room?

Surely I must have. I have emptied my water bottle at least twelve times.

The rain was less of real rain and more the air filled with moisture of the surrounding clouds, yet it kissed the earth the same nonetheless, nourishing the green world. The rain slid down the leaves of the trees, like tiny tears.

It slowly turned back into a metronome, in beat with my own heart. It was a symphony that soothed me as my thigh throbbed, still feeling the beating of my fist. It reminded me of spending time on a swing set, where afterwards you felt phantom kicks in your legs, your brain still convinced you were swinging. Or after running, when the feeling of the earth or asphalt beneath your feet still pounded through your legs. Only this was not so pleasant.

When I had sat down to work on it after school Friday, I was too ambitious, believing that I could finish the rough draft by Sunday. I had maybe three pages and thirty-six tabs open on one window, thirteen on the second, two on the third and twenty-seven on the fourth. I had wasted an hour counting each tab, closing the ones I didn't want, opening others that I thought I needed more, and then another three hours trying to find a source I closed hours before that I actually needed.