When my parents got home, I was still awake. They clattered through the house making as much noise as possible and laughing about something that probably wasn’t very funny, but they were too drunk to care. I slid the lock open on my door and opened it up a crack. My mother practically dragged my Dad up the stairs. He was red faced and her hair and makeup looked sloppy. They not so silently slipped into their room and most likely passed out on their bed. I breathed a sigh of relief and locked the door again. It was easier to relax when they were unconscious. I closed the door to my wardrobe and took one last look out of my window. The street beyond was clear, not a person in sight. I drew the curtains and went to bed feeling anxious and angry at the same time. I didn’t think I would sleep but as always I was dead to the world as soon as my head hit the pillow.
