*************

            It’s for your own good.

Scratch.

            Do you remember…

            I remember an edge, the sky…

            Scratch.

            …I know what you’re thinking…

            Scratch.

            Don’t you ever do that again!

            I didn’t know.

            Scratch.

            Scratch.

            I shouldn’t have told you.

            Scratch.

            We shouldn’t have come here…

            …I know everything…

            She won’t last the night.  I’ve won and you know it!

            There will be others…

            Scratch.

            Let go of me!  I’ll use it…

            No!  Don’t do it!

            Promise to remember…

            …I promise…

            Scratch.

            Scratch.

            Scratchscratchscratchscratchscratch…

***********************

            I felt soft warmth all around me.  At first, I was reluctant to leave this haven, but all things end…including the ones you like best.

            Like sleeping.

            I forced myself to open my eyes.  Above me was the constellation Orion.  On my ceiling, not in the sky.  Glow in the dark dots, glued in formations across the white paint.  I turned over.  My pillow fell to the floor and I stumbled away from my covers after it.  I waited for the feeling of the carpet to reach my nerves, deep and comfortable.  When it did, I turned around and faced the window.

            All the usual scenery that greeted me was there, as usual.  The sunlight hinted at the time, somewhere around noon it seemed.  I didn’t bother smiling at it, it was just scenery.  And sleep surpassed its beauty by far…

            I went to the bathroom, picked up my hairbrush, and blinked at the person in the mirror.  “Morning, you,” I said.  “Not necessarily a good one, though…” I began to brush my long black hair.  “Course, it isn’t necessarily morning, either…eh…’afternoon, you’, then…” Done, I dropped the hairbrush on the counter and turned from the mirror.

            And flew off my feet.

            …

            “…owwwwwwwww.”

            Sitting up and rubbing my head, I glared at the puddle of shampoo on the floor.  “How the freakin’ netherhells did that get there?!”

            I ended up wiping the shampoo up with a wad of toilet paper.  Then I went to get dressed.  Faded jeans with worn holes ripped in the knees, a plain white t-shirt so worn you could almost—not quite!—see through it, a plaid long-sleeve button-up that I didn’t button, and a pair of beaten-to-death tennis shoes, no socks.  Finally, as I left the room, I grabbed a hair scrunchie off the doorknob and yanked my hair back in a base-of-the-neck ponytail.

            I managed to get to the kitchen without losing myself…okay, so I ran into the couch once…

            I made myself a sandwich.  It was pretty much the only thing I could safely make without giving myself food poisoning or blowing something to the Nether Realm and back.  Of course, my sandwiches are strange.  Nearly anything can end up in them: chicken, spinach, rice, cereal, garlic, okra, whatever.  My favorite is steak, melted Swiss cheese, a sprinkle of salt, pepper, and cinnamon.

            I ate this alone at the kitchen table.

            Three hours later, as I screamed curses and blessings at a soccer game on TV, a hand ruffled my hair.  I looked up and grinned.

            “Morning, baby,” said Dad.