Separated from what I knew (jjbaxrwby)

Chapter 2

 Crickets.

It seems that no matter where you go, those bugs will always bother you at night. Perhaps not in a place such as Antarctica, however, I doubt it would be the ideal place to live in. From what I hear it's silent, so much so that it feels like your in a cold, white, void. Maybe you'd go crazy there if your only company was snow and some polar bear in the distance. It doesn't sound all too bad. I might already be going crazy. It could be that I AM crazy already, or I'm sane but going crazy from thinking that I'm going crazy.

I used to like the sound of crickets, their soft song playing throughout the night was ever so calming. Now that same song sounds like a cacophony, one that makes me want to squish every little pathetic bug. Of course, that'd be bad for the ecosystem. So I stopped with my habit of sitting outside for a few minutes every night and instead holed myself up in my room, to get maybe a few more minutes of sleep. Every minute added to an unhealthy time of three hours is just a little bit of help.

Given that it was summer, however, I'd be able to go out at night, thanks to the fact that crickets seem to never show up. Could be thanks to that pond in the middle of the neighborhood, Genny Lake, I believe it's called. Well, it's a manmade lake, but who cares about that? It's still an unmoving body of water with a few machines in it to prevent algae from forming.

I put on some slippers, careful not to step on my pajama pants, and slid the backyard door as quietly as I could so I wouldn't accidentally wake up Mrs. Johnson. She's a sweet old lady, and I'd hate to disturb her sleep. She made me cookies the other day in the afternoon, however that same day there was an accident that started a small fire when she was cooking.

Ironic.

For the few minutes I sat down on the patio, it was silent. Though this is a city, so soon after I got to enjoy the sounds of ambulances, people playing music too loudly, some girl screaming; probably a feminist based on the 'THIS IS MALE PRIVILEGE!' I hear being shouted, and kids playing basketball. Suffice to say, I got inside to try and sleep.

Try.

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Laying down on stone is surprisingly comfortable. It might be because I'm weird, but there's something nice about laying down on the hard ground and not having to worry about pesky grass tickling wherever it saw fit.

I decided to try and lay down on the grass once more. I've been reluctant to, ever since then, however, the absence of trees and the smell of Mrs.Johnson's bread made it easier.

'No trees, but instead a backyard with grass and roses.'

'No smoke, but instead the smell of bread that would end up tasty and fluffy.'

'No screams, but instead the rustling of the wind.'

'No Becca, but instead nothing.'

'No reminders, but instead an increasing feeling of guilt.'

'No....'

'Constant happiness, but instead sorrow.'

'...I really shouldn't be so grief-stricken. Mama and Papa would scold me for not moving past their deaths. And Becca certainly would give me an earful. Well, it would be milder, of course, it's her death. Well, the police say she isn't.'

'I highly doubt it. She's been gone for months. Best to think she died. Best to think that she died quickly from some sadistic man or woman. Best to think that she didn't...'