Dreamer

Tile Floor

I shot up. Sorta freaking myself out there a little. It had been getting harder and harder to wake up. Because I didn't want to, I realized.

I laid there, reflecting on what had just gone on. If felt real. It made me wish desperately for it to be true, but of course it wasn't. That of course meant that I had to get up. Had to get back to the real.

I quietly tiptoed out of my bed, careful not to wake the sleeping giant that was passed out on my couch. His snoring was so loud, I was surprised that he didn't wake himself up.

I looked at him, he looked like the man that I once knew. So quiet, peaceful even, but then he started to move. Slowly stretching, his big arms could easily crushed all five foot of me. I didn't want to be around when he woke up, especially since he was gonna have a killer hangover. I always got the worst bruises when he had one. So, I ran. I booked it to the bathroom and locked the door. Terrified he would chase after me.

I scooted down, sitting on the tile with my ear against the door. I heard his pounding footsteps, I was shaking now. They got closer and closer, I knew what was coming. My body knew what was coming. The stomps grew louder as they were right by the bathroom, I didn't dare breath. I didn't want a beating, not today. And then, I heard him go away. Relief flooded through me. It felt like forever till I heard the snores again.

I stood up, quickly throwing my long brown hair into a ponytail, and changing my clothes. I learned long ago that keeping my clothes in the bathroom was best, a place where I could lock the door. I quickly ran outside, it was raining. Great. I hopped on my bike and started the two mile trek to school. Taking in the sweet salt air.