Awkward.

Awkward: One

                                                      • ONE •

THEY SCREAMED. 

        It was the high-pitched, breathless kind of scream, and it seemed to mostly come from my mom. Albeit that didn't come as a surprise to me. Ever since I caught my dad “wrestling” – as he puts it – with Mom's younger sister and my parents divorced, Mom has been having non-stop “friends” over until the sun rises. I groaned when I looked over at my clock sitting on my nightstand that read 3:30. Three more hours Blake, just three more hours, I whispered out to myself.

        Tossing and turning in bed, I aggressively squeezed the two pillows against both sides of my head to hopefully block out the noise; but instead it seemed as if they were growing louder. That, or they were getting close to reaching their climax, and to that I say fina – fυcking – ly. 

         As displeasing as it was to even think about, her screeching cries of pleasure echoed throughout the cramped one-story house and it certainly did not help that the thin walls were practically made out of paper. When my dad left us, he took his highly-paid job with him, leaving us to fend for ourselves off of Mom's minimum wage pay as a waitress at the All You Can Eat Buffet at the Four Cees Country Club. Or as Mom likes to call it, the “man-fet”, since that's where she finds all of her boyfriends and late-night calls.

        It felt like another thirty minutes flew by when one last shriek erupted through the hallways. I held in my breath of relief until the sound was replaced with heavy panting. Then again with light laughter. And just like clockwork the soft sounds of their lips touching against each other's echoed through the walls once again. I cringed beneath my Harry Potter printed bedsheets every time I heard a sloppy sound followed by a light giggle coming from my mom. Not able to wipe the images from my mind, I threw the duvet off of my body (silently laughing to myself when Harry landed on top of Hermoine; I could just imagine how jealous Ron would be and– wow, I need sleep) and pulled myself out of bed. 

        Might as well do something useful with this sleepless night, I thought to myself as I changed into my school team's tracksuit. Minus the bolded blue letters on the back that spelled out Westfield High, the bright orange tracksuit made me resemble something of a traffic cone. Which could come in handy during nights like this just in case I find myself in the middle of the street with a car speeding right towards me; they'd be able to spot me from a mile away. Then again, it's nearly four in the morning, the only ones who would be awake right now are sex-craved bunnies. In other words, Mom and her new boyfriend – for now anyways. But with senior year coming to a close in just a couple of months, I am not taking any chances on becoming roadkill despite the early hour.

        Living in a one story house had its perks, like sneaking out for instance. With my room being so close to the ground, there was no need to walk out the door to leave the house when I could simply crawl out of my window – which is exactly what I did. The light spring breeze immediately hit my face as I made my way to the sidewalk crouching down into the start off position – one leg extended back while the other one bent down in front of me.

        After doing a quick countdown in my head, an imaginary sound of a gun shot went off and my feet raced down the known path, with nothing but the sound of the wind passing by me. There was something about running in the dark hours of the morning that brought a rush of energy and thrill through my veins. The silent streets of Westfield were something to savor since after the sun rises, so does every one else.