TWO WEEKS EARLIER......

Now here you go again, you say
You want your freedom
Well who am I to keep you down
It's only right that you sho--

I slammed the stop button on my alarm. "Dreams" used to be my soul song, but setting it as my wake-up alarm wasn't a great idea. Usually I could keep it playing until the chorus before I decided to get up out of bed, but something was different about this morning. Something was unusual.

I checked my phone to see if I got any text messages from my adult sister, emails from school, or news updates on the end of the world. Instead, I found something much worse than all three combined. 

Today was Friday the 13th. No wonder I felt so awful this morning; I couldn't even get through one of my favorite songs. Crap, I thought. It's December, and it's the 13th, which made today my birthday. Yes, I was aware that most people would rejoice at this news. They would probably even call it a pleasant surprise. But not me.

Birthdays in my house meant 4-dollar cakes from Walmart and a couple cheap balloons if I was "lucky." It also meant at least a weekend long visit from Stevie, my sister. Now, Stevie wasn't the worst, not as bad as my other siblings could be, but her visiting just meant long monologues about how great it was to be a 26-year-old gal in the city. She always said "gal", like she was some character in a 90's chick flick. She wasn't. And neither were we. Everything around me reminded me of how things weren't easy and probably wouldn't be until I was, say, 26, like my sister.

The ripped pillow I slept on every night reminded me of the fact that my mother couldn't afford to buy a new pack of pillowcases. The Justin Bieber poster on my wall reminded of the hole behind it, how bugs had chewed their way through it, and instead of getting a new wall, I received a simple poster to cover up the problem. We weren't poor, but that was easy to forget when I saw the luxuries that my other friends had.

I heard a pan drop in the kitchen, followed by a short shriek. That could have been my mother, making us breakfast, Cassie, who at a year younger than me, was just as clumsy I was, or Mac, the "sweet" 6-year-old that only I was convinced was evil.

I hope it wasn't my mom dropping breakfast; I was starving. My rumbling stomach confirmed that. I jumped out of bed (more like stumbled) and walked into the hall. The sweet, sweet smell of bacon wafted throughout, a comforting reminder that my empty belly was soon to be filled.

All of the doors to my siblings' rooms were closed. My mom's bedroom door was opened, which meant she was the only one up.

I shuffled into the kitchen. When I looked up, my heart sank.

Stevie.

She squatted on the ground, cautiously picking up bacon from the linoleum floor and into her hand. She looked up.

"Rhiannon!" She beamed.

"Stevie...." I returned, a little less enthusiastic. "I go by Rhi now, to acquaintances."

"I'm wouldn't call myself an acquaintance. I'm your sister." She scoffed playfully.

I squatted down next to her and helped her pick up the remaining pieces of bacon.

"Well, I hardly see you anymore," I said to her as I picked up a particularly hot piece of food.

"I know it seems like I can forget about you guys, but I'm really just very busy now. You know, with all the New York hustle-bustle." Oh great. Talk about living in New York some more, why don't you. "But I don't want to bore you."

"Someone got the hint," I said dryly.

"Yeah, and someone is an idiot." She glared at me.

This was our thing. I insulted her, then she insulted me. We loved it. Stevie wasn't the sibling I got along with the best, but we were definitely the closest. We finished picking up the former breakfast and threw its remains into the trash can.

"What happened?" My mom's voice startled us. She was standing at the doorway, watching us clean up the food. Her hair was fancier than usual; most nurses didn't usually get their hair done nicely like hers was.

 My mom was the type of woman who would usually carry a quick snack in her bag over lipstick, so seeing her put so much effort into looking nice was surprising to see. I rolled my eyes as I saw Stevie getting ready to say something that would restore her place as the favorite child.

"You look nice, Mom. Even with New York standards." Stevie, said, her eyes wide with approval.

My mom blushed and walked into the kitchen. She clearly didn't want us to notice her recent efforts, just accept them as though she was always this rounded. Seeing her so flustered and pleased made me feel guilty; I hated when she was the only mother at my school who wore a backpack instead of a purse, the only mother with shoes torn at the heel. It was moments like these, in the kitchen, where I was reminded that she probably hated it too.

At that moment, I heard the distinct sound of the school bus driving down our street. I didn't even have enough time to eat.

"That's the bus. I've got a minute," I sighed.

I rushed back into my room, threw on a basic hoodie, tied my thick hair into a messy ponytail, and some Converse. I pulled ripped pants on; I figured it was "edgy" but not too edgy, out there but not— The bus honked. I'm coming, jeez.

I took one last look in the mirror. Ew, acne scars. To be honest, I thought my acne scars gave me character, but I'd still prefer to not have them at all. I shut my closet door and moved a stool in front of it; It was hard to close and always needed an extra shove.

I ran out and through the front door. Right before I closed the door, I heard my sister from the kitchen.

"Have a nice day at school!" Her voice was cheery.

"See ya!" I wished I had said something a little nicer --I hadn't seen her in a year, after all—but it was too late. The bus honked again. I shut my front door and ran onto the bus, filled to the brim with screaming teenagers who would rather act like children.

"Hey, Rhi." A sweet voice came from next to me. Alice Fisher. 15 years old. Her look matched her personality; sweet, bright, a bit dull. She was the closest thing I had to a friend. Nice? Check. Judgmental? Nope. Happy to see me? If she wasn't, at least she pretended to be.

She patted the seat next to her with a gentle, ring-clad hand. "Here, you can have the window seat."

I smiled; acts of kindness always made me uncomfortable. As I sat down, my stomach rumbled, reminding me that I didn't actually eat any breakfast this morning. Alice tapped me and held out a lollipop in response. It wouldn't fill me up, but it was the gesture that counted.

"Thanks," I said, taking it, and popping it into my mouth. "Root beer's the best flavor."

"I don't know, cotton candy comes pretty close." She returned.

I smiled.

Her eyes widened. "Your phone case is so pretty." She studied my case. It was pretty; violet and light blue on each side.

I put my headphones in - "Dreams" by Fleetwood Mac again. I could tell she wanted to talk, but to be honest, I'd already had too much conversation for one morning. As the song began, I looked out the window. At the one-story houses on my tree-lined street, perfect postcards of Suburbia, American bliss. I studied my house. Weeds in the front yard, to our neighbors' dismay. Clean-enough shutters. A fence of—wait. The basement window.....

One of the basement windows was open.

Someone had slid it ajar, just open enough for...

A human body to fit through.

I took off my headphones; "Dreams" would have to wait. I looked at the front of my house, for any other strange signs, any clues that someone really had broken in. Nothing. I sighed. I was paranoid and tired and needed food.

And that's when a brick flew through the living room window.

I stood up, breathless. Nobody else on the bus noticed. They didn't notice the open basement window, they didn't notice the brick through the window, they didn't notice me standing up. They didn't notice that an intruder was probably inside my house.

I ran down the bus aisle. As the bus driver noticed I was leaving the bus, he yelled after me.

"If you don't come back in a minute, we're leaving without you." He said, impatiently, annoyed at me, the senior girl who had no respect for a bus driver's time. I nodded distractedly; I had other things to worry about. Something was going on inside my house.

Something bad.

I ran up to my house and through the front door.

Inside, what I saw was the single most terrifying sight I would ever see... 

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

What do you think Rhiannon saw? 

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