Shadows

Daylight

Ava
•••
School had come to an end. I hated to say, eighth grade went by fairly quicker than I'd care to admit.

Sighing, I slide off my bed, placing my feet carefully on the floor. My sister, Eve, doesn't have such an convenient way of getting out of bed. If she slides off, it's likely she'll break her arm. She's learned her lesson before.

I sit up and stretch. My back creaks, and my hips ache. Getting closer to the end of the school year, I'd planned to go to bed earlier for the summer. But no, for the past month, three in the morning is the perfect example of a good sleep schedule.

I make my way across the room to my dresser.
It's not how I do usually things. Eve dresses first, while I sit in bed in a daze before dressing last. Yet today feels... different.
Before I walk out the room, I glance at the clock. 12:24 PM. It's not late, but it's not exactly early either. I yawn, shuffling out of the room.

Down the hall, I step into the bathroom, and lean forward to observe my reflection in the wide mirror above the sink. Tan skin, a small nose, and big, brownish-black doe eyes. Small lips and dark, wavy dirt-brown hair that refused to grow past my shoulders. I'm not pretty, I know. Despite her protests, Eve is the pretty one, even if we do look the exact same. All the uneven features that butcher my face compliment hers. Small features, things that most people wouldn't notice- except me- draw them to her. Eve likes to tease me about how it's "all in presentation" and personality, which I honestly can't deny. My sister is a bigger people magnet than I could ever be.

Getting back into focus, I snap into routine, brushing my teeth as I let myself daydream. I spit, and when I look up I notice a shape out of the corner of my eye pass the doorway. Alarmed, I lean out and glance up and down the hallway. Of course, there's nothing there.

"Ava! Eve! It's time to wake up now, it's late!" My mom calls from downstairs. She hates it when we sleep in late. We do it anyways.

"I'm already up," I reply, "Do you want me to wake Eve?" She doesn't answer. I find it's one of the most annoying things a person can do, call you first then don't answer when you respond. My mother, sadly, does it all the time.

I groan in silence, so that Mom doesn't hear, and walk back to our room, more awake and upbeat. Eve is, sure enough, still knocked out. Eve sleeps so heavily, it's near impossible to tell if she's even breathing. Once, when we were nine, late at night, a freak thunderstorm hit our neighborhood. My mother and I awoke at the sound of the violent, cracking thunder almost immediately, but Eve barely stirred. Half-exhausted and screaming, nine year old me panicked, thinking Eve was dead.

I jump just high enough to reach over the side of the top bunk, lightly smacking Eve in the cheek. I was initially aiming for her shoulder, but there was no reason to admit that now. Groggily, she shifts her head, disturbed from sleep.

"Was that at all necessary?" Eve grumbles, shooting me a glare. I shrug from my spot on the floor. Eve drapes her blanket from off her legs, but initially doesn't get up. Standing in front of the mirror, I lazily pull shorts and a t-shirt from my dresser.

"It's time to wake up. It's almost one in the afternoon." Hearing this, Eve forces herself up, climbing down from her bed. She has a strict, get-up-before-one-thirty-o'clock habit. I don't know if she finds it unhealthy or what, but she's been practicing it for some time now. Eve tried to get me on the same schedule before, but it didn't work as she had planned.

Eve goes to the bathroom, where I assume to take a shower, and I take advantage of the few minutes of alone time to get dressed. I plop on the bed to check my phone, then, after a few minutes, remember breakfast. I leave the room, and pass Eve in the hallway, who reaches out and purposefully drags her wet hand down the front of my shirt. Shocked by the cold against my stomach, I nearly stumble towards the staircase to avoid more blows. I hear Eve snort as she closes the door to our room.