Struck

Lena:

              The thunder shook the window and echoed through the walls of the house. I was used to it by now. Another night without sleep was as much a part of my routine as peeing in the morning. I wrapped my thin sheets tighter around my body, shivering. The queen-sized bed seemed to go on for miles, even with my arms fully outstretched. I could understand how Mom felt most comfortable here. It's where I now spent most of my free time.

         I looked up at the clock on the worn bedside table. Its LED lights seared 5:37 in red digital numbers in the darkness of the early morning. I groaned as I mentally prepared myself for having to get up. I was contemplating skipping school when another shock of thunder rumbled. I hoped it wasn't another hurricane. Katrina was more than enough for Louisiana for the next twenty years.

         I slipped on my old furry socks, which dated back to the eighth grade, to keep my feet warm. So many bad memories from middle school flashed through my head and I didn't know whether my shivering was due to the cold or thoughts of my younger self. I crept over the wooden floor to the door and gently turned the doorknob, working past its cold surface.

         My leg hair prickled up from the lack of heating in our huge house. I would have been okay with moving into an apartment, but Bennett insisted on living here. He's full of terrible ideas. His loud, drunken snores rebounded off of the walls and vibrated the floor beneath my feet. I didn't know which was louder: the thunder or his snoring. I treaded on quietly in an effort to extend my freedom from him as long as I could. I opened my bedroom door and sat down on my wrinkle-free bed. So many memories had been made in this room, not all of them especially pleasing, but some actually worth remembering.

        Ghosts of laughter now inhabited these four walls. My room used to house so much energy, even excitement. The people I used to welcome in here were long pushed out. So much as seeing pictures of them made my chest want to implode.

         My mind regained focus in present-day, now 5:43 on the digital clock. I made an effort to leave at 6:25. I pushed myself up and out of bed and dressed out of my pajamas and into a variation of the same jeans and t-shirt combination I had been sporting since the beginning of the school year. I pulled on my jeans from a year ago, the ones with the faint tears on them, but even upon buttoning they refused to balance on my hips. I reached into the black depths of my closet and grabbed a pair from freshman year, which fit fine if one didn't count the fact that they went halfway up my shin, the end barely covering a bruise right under the seam, which I got from running into a coffee table yesterday. I cursed my height. Capris it was.

         My time spent in the bathroom took decidedly less than usual, consisting of peeing, letting my frail hair out of my bun, and brushing my teeth. My hair didn't require brushing today, or any day for that matter, due to its unchanging straightness. I had been avoiding haircuts for over a year, which was probably the reason behind it almost reaching my waist.

         My internal clock notified me to get going. My chemistry and history homework was packed and neatly stored in my aged backpack, and after finding and slipping on some boots long enough to conceal my pant length, I left my room.

         The stairs were the riskiest part of my journey outside. After my entire life consisting of sneaking out of the house, I had memorized that stairs three, eight, and fourteen were exceptionally squeaky. I stepped over the obstacles on my way down, praying my counting was correct. Bennett continued to sleep through the storm in his drunken coma, his disgusting shirtless body sweating like a pig's, earning a scowl on my part. I decided the boots I had put on were not my friends. They were much heavier and noisier than my usual footwear, so it took me extra long to make my way down the stairs. Once I had reached the main level, I manouvered my way on the floorboards, behind the couch and toward the door.