breakout

Chapter 1.1

 Whatever I still have 3 days left to decide this. I washed my plate and got into my room. I love my room. I have a real big room, what always makes me extremely happy. The best part about my room is my bed. It’s a double bed for my own and it’s so fucking comfy. There’s a quite big window to my right. When I can’t sleep at night, I often open the window, sit on the sill and watch the stars. I really love doing this. Call me strange, but I love waking up when the sun rises. Sunrises are so beautiful and I can’t get enough of them.

My sleeping schedule is so messed up because of this. Sometimes I get to bed around 10PM, read until 12AM, watch the stars until 2AM, fall asleep until 5AM, then wake up to see the sunrise, then fall asleep until 6:30AM and then get up for school. So I only got 3 hours of sleep. But it’s okay as long as you get a big, big cup of coffee in the morning. The other thing I love about my room are those poster of old rockbands. Call me old fashioned, but I love the music from the 60s, 70s and 80s. I also have a stereo in my room with a plenty of records from those bands. Of course I also love my bookshelf. I can’t even count the amount of books I have, but I guess at least 150. Without even counting the childbooks. And a lot of the books I’ve read more than two times. Damn, I really spend a lot of time reading.

I grabbed one of the books and laid on my bed. I felt the fatigue overcoming me. Last night I slept around 4 hours and I could definitely use a twelve-hour-sleep. So I went to bathroom, brushed my teeth and put some sleeping clothes on. I opened the bathroom door and wanted to go to my room but then suddenly my mom stood in front of me. God, she creeped the shit out of me. She just stood there, saying nothing. “Mom?”, I asked carefully. She was about to cry. “Oh no, Mom, what’s wrong? Talk to me!” A tear rolled down her cheek. “Your father called.” Suddenly I became extremely cold. How’s this possible? He didn’t call for ages and now he’s coming back? He wants something, I’m sure, he wouldn’t call just to ask if we’re okay. “What does he want?”, I asked quietly. My mom started crying. “You.”