The Few

Amelia

     Leave it to your brain stem to mess up your sleep schedule. My fight or flight response had been all over the place lately. I'd never really been able to get the sufficient amount of sleep required for a healthy and rested state for my age group, but I was used to it. I adapted to change quickly.  But last night... last night was the worst.

     I could already feel and hear everything that went on around me, but last night it felt like all my senses were in overdrive. Even more than usual. Every piece of dust falling from my dresser or ceiling fan was like a boulder falling from the sun, hurdling millions of miles an hour to create a sound loud enough to make your eardrums bleed. Every whisper from the downstairs T.V. was like I was at a heavy metal concert, standing right next to the amplifiers that blared incoherent noise. Every spring in my mattress was like knifes burying dull blades into my skin, slowly stabbing into every nerve in my body.

     My response of course was to fight. But how could I give a roundhouse kick to my mattress without feeling completely ridiculous? Sigh. Sometimes I wished I was normal. Sometimes. 

     Suddenly feeling parched from my wondering of why, exactly, I was feeling this way, I closed my eyes and held out my hand like I was holding a cup. I imagined in my head every detail of myself. My medium length red-brown hair tied up in a ponytail, disheveled from the violent tossing and turning through the night. My feet that were much too big for my skinny legs, which were covered by orange puppy pajama pants that were just a bit too short. I'd told my mother that they were impractical, and that orange was a color that caused some negative psychological properties such as frustration and immaturity, but she insisted that the color also provided the feeling of warmth and fun, and that I needed more of that. I imagined my arm extended, but instead of an empty hand on the end of it, my hand held a Styrofoam cup. I thought of the drops of condensation dripping from the sides and the feeling of them forming under the skin of my palms. When I opened my eyes again, there it was. I smiled with a hint of satisfaction as I looked inside. "Ughhhhh," I groaned as I realized that I hadn't thought about what would be inside the cup. I needed to work on this little trick some more. There was only ice. The only reason that was there was by assumption that there had to be something cold in the cup because of the condensation. I could be so dense sometimes.

    I sighed, popping a cube into my mouth, not caring about how much my mom had warned me about how bad chewing ice is for your teeth. nothing could happen that I wouldn't be aware of before it happened. My probability for breaking a tooth was near 15%, since i wasn't moving around or thinking about anything else. Although, my probability probably raised to about 30% when I started wondering again why everything was so much more prominent at night. I decided to store it for later as I walked down the stairs of my ordinary home to my ordinary family and pondered something new that I never had before. Why am I one of the few?

A/N: I'm not even gonna lie and say I knew what I was talking about with the percentages lol. I hope you guys like the book so far. I'm going to be writing in different perspectives for the first 5 chapters or so, then it'll be in Amelia's voice mostly. Have a good week.