Fantasy

chapter one

I love nighttime. Darkness has always been calming to me. I walk through the empty dark streets, breathing in the chill air. No ones really out at 2am on a weekday, but yet here I am. The beautiful voice of Harry Styles singing Fine Line flowing through my ears as I sway in the middle of the road.

Insomnia keeps me up, my mind never seems to leave me alone. So why not be alone in the dark of night? Its one of my favorite places after all. I have no reason to fear, being such dominant gives me control over basically everyone. So here I am, laying in the middle of the cold road, knowing I have to get up at 7 for school tomorrow.

Sighing I sit up and scratch painfully at my head. My mom doesn't like when I do this, she's fearful for me. Fears embedded into her seeing as she's a submissive. I hate it for her, I wish she could feel free, feel better.

I'm a dominate member in society. My mother said she had known I would be. She always said others thought I was intimidating, resulting in me not having many friends. I think she was just saying that to make me feel better. I don't mind being alone most of the time, but it was hard to be a kid with no friends. I do think I might benefit from someone who can relate to me. Unfortunately I only have one friend, and we can't relate at all.

I check my phone, seeing the time being 2:43. I should head back home, I should try and get some sleep at least. Standing from the hard asphalt, I dust the dirt from my clothes.

By the time I make it back home my body's exhausted. I make sure the doors locked and head to my room. Not even turning the lights on as I begin yanking off my baggy clothes, and lazily pull on some underwear and a t-shirt. My soft bed's calling for me, and I have to answer. It takes a minute, but soon my mind falls under the familiar, welcoming, darkness.

-

I groan as I feel my covers being pulled off me. My hands reaching out to pull them back up but they seem to have disappeared. The cool air hitting my legs instead of the warm smoothness of my comforter.

"Sweetheart it's 7." My moms voice blasts my ear drums seeming unnecessarily loud. I feel exhausted, my body still yearning for more sleep.

"I'm up ma, I'm up." I grumble out, sitting up with my eyes still closed. I hear her light footsteps leave out my room and immediately lay back down. School doesn't start till 8 anyways, so I'm sure I still have time to sleep.

"Desa Miller!" I sit up lighting fast, my eyes darting around the room for danger. I soon realize it's just my mother and slightly frown at her.

"Please don't yell mom. It makes me anxious, like somethings wrong." I say while finally getting out of bed.

"Your right, sorry. I just don't want you to be late, its 7:10." She checks the clock on my wall before looking my way. "7:15 now."

"Don't apologize." I yawn, smiling over my shoulder while pulling out some clothes from the closet.

"Okay well, I made pancakes if you want any!" She beams, beginning to walk down the hallway, away from my dark, plant filled room.

I trudge to the bathroom and get ready. Staring at myself in the large mirror, I ruffle the black curls that stop at my shoulders. I've been wanting to do something to them, maybe dye them or cut bangs but haven't felt up to it. I walk back out the bathroom wearing all black, cargo pants and a random band tee.

The smell of pancakes present as I walk to the kitchen. I don't eat in the morning, it makes me nauseous. So when I walk into the kitchen I go straight to boiling some water in my red teakettle. I'm not a coffee person, for some reason it gives me bad headaches. I get my cup ready, the tea packet sitting in it while I squeeze a "ungodly" amount of honey in.

Mhm, Honey.

After fixing my tea I sit at the table, sipping the hot liquid, it warms my insides. I scroll through different apps as I wait for my family to come eat breakfast. Funny how I'm the last one up but always the first one ready. My younger sister and brother get ready with the help of our mom still. They act like they still need help with everything, when I was perfectly fine at their age. They're a year apart, my brother 10 and my sister 11.

When I was their ages I didn't get any special treatment. Always expected to be the best, whether it's grades, the arts, behavior. I have to be the perfect child, perfect person, better than everyone else.

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