Removed

08

 Varieties of poems litter my journal, my hand not able to move as fast as my swirling thoughts. I'm not sure how long I've been writing, how long I've been itching to calm my jagged nerves.

The dim light emitted from my beside lamp is the only light shining through the room. As it's two am, that's the most light I can afford. Aided by my dark shutters, the dim light conceals my technically illegal writing session.

Finally giving up on venting, I flip my journal closed. The pen and journal lay to rest on my bedside table until I need them again. So much happened yesterday. Aunt Becca was taken by Etchers. I agreed to, well, whatever it is that Cody and I will do.And lastly, I'm all alone in a two story house with only my raging thoughts for company, as Dad contacted me via watch that he and mom will be spending the night at a friend's.

My eyes threaten to slip closed, but fear jolts them wide open. I'm scared because I don't know what's going on with all these secrets, who I can trust. I'm terrified of what happened to Aunt Becca, that someone else I care about will be next. I'm a little scared of what's going to happen next. Most importantly, I'm horrified of getting caught and arrested. Who knows what the government will to seal my lips from blabbing to the rest of the world.

Suddenly, I hear glass shattering and a muffled profanity. My heart beat quickens and my hands tremble as I fumble with the covers wrapped around me. Slowly, I tip-toe into the carpeted hallway. My watch sheds light through the darkened house as I move as quietly as possible. There is soft muttering and the sound of glass shards scraping against the hardwood floor. Flinching and trembling, I rush into my parent's room and grope under the bed. Smiling as my fingers brush a cool, solid surface, I grasp the edge of the object and rush back into the hall.

I take a moment to steady my breathing. In through my mouth. Out through my slightly stuffed nose. Once I've collected myself the best I can, I charge down the stairs. Brandishing my weapon and praying I won't trip down the stairs, I break into a sprint. Adrenaline courses through my brain, wrenching control of my rational thoughts and throwing them under a metaphorical rug.

Remains of a lamp litter the ground. That lamp used to stand tall by the front door and is now diminished to shards of whatever it was made of. It sounded like glass? Anyways, I let out an ear piercing scream as I hop off the last stair. "Show yourself, intruder!"

I hear a loud chuckle from behind me. Spinning on my heel, I flaunt my weapon and face the doorway of the kitchen. Instantly, my eyebrow knit in confusion. My green eyes stare into his storm of hazel.

"So you thought there was an intruder and grabbed a plate as a weapon?" Cody guffaws, bending at the waist as he shakes with laughter.

"Correction," I seethe, placing my free hand on my hip like a mother scolding a child," There is an intruder."

"But really, Autumn, you should see yourself!" He breathes, seeming to gasp for air. His face is flushed as he finally stands straight.

"What are you doing in my house at two am?" I scream, waving the plate out in front of me. I knew dad would still have a plate under the bed from his late night snacks. It's not the best weapon, but I could have broken the glass and cut this idiot with it.

At this, he has the audacity to smile a broad, toothy grin. "I have our first mission."

"And what does that have to do with the broken lamp?" I hiss, gesturing to the mess with the plate.

He scratches the back of his head, expression turning sheepish. "That was an accident. Sorry."

"What if my parents were home?"