In the Stars

Chapter 2

"Honey, why don't you come in?" my mother calls to me.
"But..it's beautiful."
I make no movement. I don't turn my head toward her or even truly acknowledge she's there. I just, stay.
"It's cold and it's getting late. Please come in soon," she sighs and walks inside.
The slam of the screen door and my deep sigh occur at the same time.
"She doesn't understand. She just doesn't."
The stars twinkle.
Tears form.
I begin to cry.
"I need one shooting star. Just. One."
I close my eyes. Sigh again, but softer this time. Whisper my yearn to see a shooting star and open my eyes.
Not five seconds after opening them, a shooting star races across the darkened sky.
"I wish..I wish to escape this place." my quiet plea to the star escapes my mouth.
My tears have dried on my face. I stay on top of the roof for another five minutes before going in.
When I get inside, I hear what I feared.
Yelling. Fighting. Anger.
They don't know how much it affects me. How it hurts to see them like this. If they don't love each other, which they don't, why must they force themselves to act as if they do? Why mask it? That's why I desire to leave.
I want to go on some grand adventure. I want to travel and meet people. I want to be more than just the girl that loves the stars, more than the girl that reads and has straight A's. I am more than that...I just want the opportunity to believe and show it. I'm just not sure I'll ever get the chance.

They are in the living room. Screaming at each other like it's a battle to see who can be the loudest. When I walk past the room, to get to the stairs so I can go to my room, they become quiet. They stop fighting. Like I can't hear them when I'm not close by. It's so strange how they think. I don't get where their logic makes sense.

My room is a soft shade of grey and hanging above my bed, mounted to the wall is the phases of the moon. I grab the remote to turn on whatever nature show I can find on Netflix and lay down in bed.
The volume is down to 12 so the only sounds I hear are the whirring of my fan, the soft voice of the narrator, and the yells from downstairs.

"Where have you been the past two nights?"
"Why does it matter to you? We're divorced! I'm here so I can be with my children!" the lady I know as "Mom" defends herself.

It continues for another 20 minutes. By that time, I've grown accustomed to the sounds of screaming. They've mixed well into the pot of sounds happening around me and with that, I fall asleep.