I lie on my back restlessly, looking up through my dirty skyroof. I wish I was up there, feeling the cool midnight breeze brush against my skin, just like when I saw him. I don't know who he was, but he was there, and then as fast as a rocket, he was gone. The only thing I remember about him are his pale blue, frightened eyes.
After waking up in a pile of rubble that I once called home exacly ten years ago, everyone told me to be grateful that i'm alive. But nothing about my parents dying and me being adopted at the age of five, makes me grateful. I've been surrounded by reporters and cameras, my whole life, and they all ask the same question, "What Happened?".
I have no idea what happened , or how it happened. I don't remember anything about that day. I don't even remember what my parents look like. The only thing I remember is how I climbed out of the rubble with not a scratch on me, well, that was before I collapsed.
I look at the sky roof, and then at my window. Then back at the skyroof. I quietly jump out of bed and put on sneakers. I can't help wincing when I open the window and it makes a terrible WWHHHHRRRRAACCKK sound. I climb out of the window and hurry to get off of the black, moist roof tiles. I'm going to die. Before I can think, I lunge up and grab the top of my window, my arm scraping against tile.
Why did I do that? Im stupidly hanging by one hand on a slippery tile, my muscles aching and my arms shaking. What happens if I drop? Will I break a bone? I'll just drop. Give in. My hand slips and I try to grab the window with my left hand, but it's way too late. I plummet towards the ground.
I look up, my eyes burning. Before I can think, I lunge for the stars. Something clicks inside my head and a beam of light shoots down, mesmerizing me, slowing my fall. That doesn't mean it didn't hurt.
I land on my hurt arm and quickly roll to my back, wincing at the movement. I spread out on the soft grass, finally opening my eys and wincing when my arm rubs against the grass. Even in the dark, I can see a smear of red across the grass. Mom is going to freak. I finally decide to get up, my legs wobbling. I sneak to the back of my house, and in through the back door, it's furthest away from mom's room, and right by the stairs to mine. I wobble up the stairs and into bed, crying into my pillow.
My eyes finally start to droop, and I gratefully give in. I slowly roll onto my side, careful not to hurt my arm even more, and slam my eyes shut. Tomorrow is the start of the summer holiday. Maybe, just maybe, it will be better than last year.
