Fifteen

Fifteen.1

Fifteen. Fifteen. Fifteen.

I was staring at my calendar. Tomorrow's the fifteenth.

I look down at my crumpled up soccer jersey that was laying on the ground from yesterday's game. The number fifteen was printed in big, block letters on the back.

I smiled, remembering the score of yesterdays game. 15-3, our win.

I shift my gaze to the back of my hand where I had written the number fifteen on it with my curvy, familiar handwriting.

I look back up to my calendar and take out a green pen. Underneath the fifteenth I wrote, "My Birthday" and stepped back, approving my work.

I slowly sunk down to my bed until my head was on my pillow, and slowly let my brain fade away. My thoughts wandered off, something that I rarely let myself do anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up and rubbed my eyes until the red letters on my digital clock came into view. The clock read 11:30pm and I fell back down to my pillow.

"Shit," I mumble as I realized that I probably wasn't getting back to sleep.

I also realized that it was my birthday in a half in hour.

I let a small smile form across my lips.

It was still Friday, soon to be Saturday and I couldn't wait for the next thirty minutes to be over.

I slowly sat up and tried to remember my dreams that I knew I had. I always have dreams, no matter what. They weren't normal dreams either. They were usually dreams that had something to do with my "lost" neighbors.

Around six years ago the first one disappeared. His name was Eric and he was my next door neighbor. He was fourteen when he first disappeared. His parents found his window open the next morning with no trace as to where he went. The investigators hit a dead end immediately.

The second was four years ago. Her name was Alice. Also my neighbor. She was sixteen. The next morning her parents also found her window wide open, just like Eric's case. She was the closest thing to a sister that I've ever had and I loved her dearly. She was like family to me. How do you explain to an eleven year old that her "sister" was gone? More like she disappeared. The investigators also hit a wall with her case too.

The third and fourth were just two years ago. Both boys. Jake and Toby. Toby and I even had a thing up until the night that he was just, gone. Their disappearances happened within a week of each other. First Jake, then Toby. Investigators barely even tried this time. They were both fifteen at the time. My Toby would be seventeen right now and I've thought about him every day since.

Yes, my mom basically has me on lock down. I can't go anywhere, or do anything. With the exception of soccer.

"Only this one time, honey," she's said to me since I was thirteen. "I'll only let you play this one time," but as you know, I am still in soccer.

I think that she noticed how much I enjoyed my first time on the field, with the wind blowing on my face as I am running down the field.

If no one was watching, I might've even flapped my arms a little. (I know, weird, right?) It was the closest thing that I've ever had to flying and my only way of getting out of this house.

It's been this way since I was thirteen; when the fourth one disappeared.

All of the other adults have been protecting the kids on our block as well, no matter what their age.

The newest addition is only 6 months old and I can already tell that her life will be a living hell and full of boredom.

I've gotten used to being bored.

It took me almost two years to finally come to a conclusion about all of this.

I say that this is all a coincidence. A strange, messed up coincidence. A 1 out of 1 trillion coincidence.

I'm going to be fine...just fine. I mean, I have legit bars on my windows and five freaking locks on my own bedroom door! I might as well be in an insane asylum if this is how I have to live my life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I fell asleep staring at the clock. The last I knew it was 12:01am.

"Shine, Shine!" my mom shouted, rather loudly.

"Shit, shit! Mom, lower it down a little k?"

"Watch your tone young lady!!"

"Im sorry, mother," I replied sweetly, clearly being sarcastic.

"That's my girl," mom replied while kissing me on the forehead.

Just another regular morning for me, I thought. It always started out this way in the mornings.

My mom pounding on my door, usually to see if I'm still alive, breathing, and still on the face of this earth. Almost always forgetting that she has the keys (the only way to get out of this prison.)

And then her apologizing.

Telling me that it is all going to get better in a few years. That I just have to wait a little while longer and then I can actually live again. That this is only temporary and is meant to keep me safe from anything and everything.

I'm homeschooled now and the only fun around here is watching adults patrol the streets through the bars of my window.

Once in awhile I catch a glimpse of a bird or two. Once in a while a whole flock! I love birds way to much. Just the feeling of them being able to be free thrills me. I always find myself whispering to them (I know that they can't actually hear me) and telling them to live life for me. To breathe in the fresh air and fly for me.

I've always dreamt of being a bird. To feel the warm sun beating on my back and the wind ruffling through my feathers. To be able to feel my shoulder muscles work as my wings take me far, far away from this place; to never come back.

My mom said she was making breakfast and that she will bring me some in ten minutes. I hop out of bed feeling lighter than ever, and hungrier than ever. I feel very different this morning, in a good way. I dance around my room a little bit and froze.