Fireworks {ON HOLD}

Meet Me, The Freak

"No," I mumbled, tossing in my bed. "Please, no..." The wild, horrible visions swirled around my head, blotting out everything. Kids my age pointing accusing fingers, men in white suits holding needles, and, of course, jail cells.

"Stop," I said, slowly growing louder. "No! STOP!" I screamed.

I sat up in bed, my spine rigid and stick-straight, still screaming. Tears streamed down my cheeks, and my pajamas were soaked from sweat. My bed seemed too hot, my sheets twisted around my legs, tangled from my vivid nightmares. Slowly, I realized that the terrible visions were just a dream. "Chill out, Raina," I told myself quietly. Just a dream.

Just a nightmare.

I peered into the darkness of my room, trying to comfort myself with the sights of familiar things. My old bookcase, crammed full of all my favorite little kid stories. My closet, half-filled with clothes, half-filled with all sorts of random stuff. I'd have to clean that out. And my dresser, overflowing with the rest of my clothes, outlined by the pale light my cream-colored shell nightlight gave off. I kept it on every night, no matter how dorky and baby-ish it made me look. I liked it, and it held good memories.

Memories of when I wasn't...different.

Then there were things that reminded me I was different, like the bucket of water I kept full and ready beside my bed, in case I got too angry and ended up losing myself. The backpack in my closet containing a water bottle, some energy bars, a wad of money, and fresh clothing if I had to run away on a moment's notice. And, of course, the scorch marks on the walls, in star-shaped patterns.

I shrugged off my covers, feeling too hot under them. Slowly and as quietly as I could, I padded on the carpeted floor of my room to my door. Carefully opening up the door, I peered out into the darkness, not being able to see anything. That was okay. I knew this house by heart.

My bedroom was on the second level, and right next to the stairs. My parents' room was down the hall a little, but not so far that I couldn't hear my dad snoring. My house consisted of two levels, with only one bathroom on the lower level. It didn't really matter to me, though, since I was an only child. There were three bedrooms, two for sleeping in, and the other for guests and storage. A dining room, a living room, a kitchen, and a porch. A normal house. Less normal people.

I crept down the creaky stairs, sticking to the right side, which was the only way to move from upstairs to downstairs unheard. Slipping through the dining room, I tip-toed into the kitchen. I flipped on the lights, illuminating the quaint room. I opened up the refrigerator, grabbing a box of strawberries. Setting them down on the table, I flipped open one of my favorite books, trying to calm myself from my nightmare.

Reading helps me concentrate, or it lets me drift away from the real world for a little while, imagining up a whole new universe, one where I wasn't...

Different.

Different. What's the definition again? I quickly grabbed a dictionary from the cluttered table, setting my fantasy book down. Diction...Deer...Different! "Not the same as another or each other, unlike in nature, form, or quality," I read aloud. "Novel and unusual." I set the book down, staring ahead, thinking. Unlike in nature, form, or quality, I thought. Am I really unlike in nature? Am I some phenomenon of science? Was it God? Was it nature itself? Why am I different?

I rubbed my eyes. I'd thought about this so many times, and each time, I never could come up with a sure answer, although I always came up with a headache. Popping another strawberry into my mouth, I finally went upstairs, since staying up late on a school night wasn't going to help me anyways.

I crawled into my bed, still nice and cozy warm. For a while longer I tossed and turned under the covers, trying to fall asleep but epically failing. My brain was buzzing, too active and nervous to fall asleep again. No matter how I tried, I was just too scared of another nightmare to sleep again.