My Crazy Years

Nightmare night

May was still asleep when you got down from your bed, a book resting on the left side of her pillow. She must have been up all night reading again, a habit she had since she began high school. She was studying in a nearby town, taking the bus there and back. You couldn't say you were disappointed as the teachers always used to call you by her name by mistake and constantly compared you to her. Not to your face, but behind your back which infuriated you even more. She was putting in more effort in her studies than you. That was a fact that you could do nothing but accept. She was more outgoing, friendlier to those around her, wishing for more. You were pleased with sitting in your corner and doing what you liked, listening to your music and not bothering anyone.

You changed quickly and motioned the bugs to sit still while you went to get some food as you took your phone and headed out. Walking into the hallway, you saw the lights in the kitchen on. Well, it was to be expected after all. It happened every year. She barely slept during this period.

Your mother was always overworking herself during holidays, cleaning the house five times over, and preparing enough food to feed an entire army. Trying to talk her out of it was useless. She always found some excuse or simply ignored you and your sisters. Your father did try as well, but that time of the year was busy for him too and so he was rarely home.

You knocked at the kitchen door and then opened it, praying not to hit her as you couldn't hear anything from the other side. Thankfully, she was in the opposite corner of the room, washing the dishes and she didn't even hear you.

"Good morning, mom." you said, looking at the bags under her eyes.

There was an unbearable heat in the small kitchen, despite the open window. The oven must have been on all night again.

"What are you doing up so early?" she asked, surprised to see you.

"Early? It's..." you looked at the time on your phone. "It's 9a.m."

"What?! Please go and wake up your father. He had to go and pick Rea up from the bus station one hour ago." your mother said panicked.

You rushed to your parents' bedroom to find it empty. Just as you returned to the kitchen, the front door opened and your eldest sister came in, dragging after her two large bags, no doubts, packed to the brim with clothes.

"Hey..."

"Shut up and come help me." Rea snapped at you, tossing one of the bags at your feet. "There's another one outside. Go and get it." she continued, taking off her boots and heading straight to her room which was next to yours and May's.

"Yeah. Nice to see you too." you muttered under your breath and slightly opened the kitchen door to give your mother the news. "Rea's home. Code red."

Rea was not only the oldest of the three of you, but also the bossiest one. She always ordered you and May around, often making you do the chores she was tasked with, but she did help you out when needed. Lately, however, she became much moodier than before and one wrong word was enough to set her ablaze. Sometimes she was getting mad out of the blue even if no one did anything to anger her. Thankfully, there were signs which foretold when she was near her breaking point but discussing them in the open was risky as well. Therefore, you and May came up with a set of codes that would warn the others of the situation. Code blue – everything is ok, but it doesn't hurt to mind your words. Code white – it's ok as long as you don't joke with her. Yeah. She didn't have a sense of humor. Code red- she's mad. Careful how you talk to her. Code black – run like your life depends on it, avoid her at all costs.

Judging how she talked to you at the door, it was definitely code red. Well, could have been worse.

You took the bag to Rea's door, knocking before going in. No answer. You just left it there, having already done what she told you to. She never told you to get it inside her room. If she had a problem, then you had no trouble "talking" about it. You were ready to enter the kitchen again when you heard Rea scream sharply from behind her door and heard the word "bugs". You went as white as a sheet of paper and without a second thought, you ran to her room, slamming the door in time to receive a pillow to the face. You ignored it and looked around the bundle of clothes laying on the floor – typical of her to have arrived home not even 5 minutes ago and to have already made a mess – and pillows that she kept on throwing.