The next two weeks went by on a surprisingly very good note. To say that this was simply baffling would be an understatement. Especially given the stand-off that occurred between Mum and I a few days ago. Things have become alarmingly peaceful and quiet.

Not a single argument with Mum over these few days, Lilly finally remembered to pick up her toys, and Papa James, for the first time didn't burn any toast in the oven. Sounds weird, I know but these things happen a lot.

But most importantly: my secret was safe, although I hadn't really been able to paint to my heart's content due to the endless loads of unpacking that we had to do.

At least I’d been able to clean the shack and soon realised that Papa James was right. You’d be marvelled by how much difference it made, coupled with my newly placed art materials. The place was starting to look like a real workshop and not some dumpster.

Mum had finally registered me into a public school and I’ve been exhilarated since Papa James broke the news.

Today was Sunday and if my knowledge of the days of the week was accurate then, tomorrow would be Monday.

Monday is the most important day of the week. And now the most important day of my life.

It was a freaking school day!

HALLELUJAH!

The excitement bubbling in my stomach couldn't be contained. For the first time in my life, I would be learning in the same environment as many other teenagers. Teenagers who were just like me. And even if it was going to be boring science stuff, the exhilaration clogging my nerves couldn't be dampened.

I was happy. No, let's rephrase that—
I was ecstatic, overjoyed, jubilant and every other damned word which meant ready to scream for joy till my throat turned sore.

However, the overwhelming euphoria of finally getting what I’d always wanted didn't cloud my brain with wrong facts. I knew school wasn’t a hundred percent heaven. My vast collection of teen-ficition books were enough to open my eyes to the difficulties some students faced over there.

But every coin has two sides and as much as there are the bad sides, the good sides will always be more.

Attending a public school has always been like a faraway dream which would never come true until now, because it meant freedom. Freedom from the four walls of my house and freedom to finally experience the outside world. I would finally have friends my age, not a stepfather who was in his late thirties and a sister who was just a child.

Mum, Papa James, and Lilly had gone to the supermarket for groceries, leaving me home… All alone.

Life's about to get more exciting!

Nothing would be able to darken my mood today. I was on top of the world.

I meant LITERALLY on top of the world.

Judging by how many housetops I could see from where I sat on the rooftop—don't ask me how I got there—you could say I was on top of the entire universe.

With legs dangling off the rooftop, my eyelids pulled shut and a rush of pleasure flooded my veins. The wind caressed my skin, my dark waves dancing to its tune in a way that made my smile broaden.

These were always my best moments. Moments when I felt as free as a bird. Moments when it felt like I could touch the sky and what lay beyond it.

With a big smile on my face, I reached for my Snickers chocolate bar and the book I had planned to finish a long time ago.

A loud moan rang out as my mouth closed on the bar, releasing a burst of flavour on my tongue.

While chewing, I went back to reading—an amazing combination by the way. What could be better than delicious chocolate and a piece of heavenly literature?

Nothing… Nothing at all.

Unfortunately, concluding early had always been my weakness from day one—something I was working on but just couldn't help myself.

My serene atmosphere was destroyed and it became difficult to concentrate on the novel. My focus had dwindled, my reading experience turned unpleasant without any form of enjoyment.

My new, very considerate, neighbours had decided to throw a party on a quiet Sunday evening, disturbing the entire neighbourhood with ear-damaging music.

Looking across the yard, I could see every single thing occurring in their house.

Judging from how young the party attendees looked, it could be concluded that the party was held by some youngsters; teens perhaps? Besides, I was sure no sensible adult would play music at such high—thrashing volume.

You couldn't even call it music. Sound would be a better name. Disturbing, meaningless sound.

As if my lovely neighbours had somehow noticed my dislike towards their style of music, they decided to make it louder. My ears were starting to sting and I feared for the state of my hearing organs after being subjected to such torture.

Seems like these people want me deaf!

I stole a glance at the window to the living room—turned into a dance floor.

The place was swamped with people and I began to wonder how any of them were able to breathe properly.

From someone who frequently suffered from panic attacks, it felt horrifying—seeing so many people packed in such tight space.

Curiosity fixed my gaze on these crazy set of people. They had started grinding earnestly against each other with expressions of pure euphoria clouding their faces.

There was no room for air, no space, only people. An endless stream of people.

Yet...

Girls were wrapping themselves around their dance partners like snakes in heat. The guys were too busy squeezing and manhandling different “unmentionables” on the body of said ladies.

At this point, my eyeballs were about to fall out of their sockets and my jaw was left hanging open. This scene was more than revolting. But for some weird reason, I couldn't take my eyes off them.

How can someone hold a girl like this, and she isn't screaming for help?!

Honestly speaking, I was traumatised. And my mind, oh my poor mind would never be the same.

From everything that I’d seen today, it had been perfectly established that my opinions about disturbing and meaningless sound was mine and mine alone.

What is wrong with these people?!

My dislike for parties had always been a known fact in my family, after a disaster that occurred when I was ten. Even my lovely mother, who was forced to take me out whenever they had business functions, had come to accept the truth.

She officially got the memo when I drowned the celebrant of a birthday party I was forced to attend, in my billion dollar vomit.

So it was understandable that anger and frustration had begun to stir inside me. Hot and fast like boiling water. It started the very moment it became difficult to concentrate on my book. All efforts to block out the noise were useless and I could feel a slight throbbing, developing at the side of my brain.

I squeezed my eyes shut, massaging my temples with tensed fingers, willing the inner tremor to go away.

But then—a sudden, unsettling feeling washed over me in a choking, salty wave. I tried to shake it off but it came back stronger, causing a rise of panic coiling itself around my chest.

A stiff tilt of my head set my gaze instantly—over the fence—on a weird looking guy, watching me with so much vigour.

His relaxed position on the wall contrasted the gravity of his stare, which got me unnerved, despite the distance between us.

Still locked in an unexpected stare off, I drilled him with a glare, but he wasn't deterred.

His head was cocked sideways and the frown on his face glared confusion.

The stranger’s eyes were fixed on my face, assessing. Taking in every sight like a sponge soaking up water. He stared like he was seeing two heads on my body, and was trying to figure out why.

“Would you stop staring?” I raised my voice in annoyance, my eyes shooting daggers but that didn’t stop him from observing like I was some orange-skinned alien who fell out of the sky.

His penetrating gaze felt like needles against my spine, probing until I started to feel extremely uncomfortable. Amusement danced in his eyes, making me wonder what was funny about a girl relaxing on her roof.

Guy’s nothing but a creep!

As if on cue, my gaze wandered on the bottle of what I guessed was alcohol in his possession, my face squeezing with disgust. So—

PONG!

I flinched, shocked by the sound of Mum’s car horn.

They're back already?! I groaned inwardly while climbing down from the roof to my room balcony with as much care and speed as possible. I already knew that mum would scold me to death when I got downstairs.

Sliding the balcony door closed, I shared one last agonising look with Mr. Creepy whose orbs still hadn't left my form. My eyes slitted into pin pricks and I gave the stranger one last glowering look before drawing the curtains.

Good riddance!

Mum didn't even let me completely climb down the stairs before filling my ears with a thousand reasons why it was dangerous to sit on the roof. Her stern voice seemed to cause more damage to my already hurt organs.

I raced back to my room, so I could finish the book, while munching some extra chocolates from my emergency stash. The softness of my big bed helped to heighten the flavour on my tongue.

At least here there was no creep, staring like I was a freak with nine limbs and three eyes.

The party next door was still on full blast, but remember; every situation has a silver lining. And in this case, I finally got to put my newly—acquired headsets to use. Celine Dion’s melodic voice filled my ears and I wondered why I hadn't thought of it before.

My eyelids fluttered open, and I was shocked to realise that I had slept off on my book. Sitting on my elbows, my gaze darted to the bedside clock which said ten pm.

I actually slept that long?

Thankfully, there was no agonizing sound coming from the neighbour's house which meant that the party was finally over.

A dry cough escaped my mouth and I realised my throat had turned parched with thirst.

I slugged downstairs into the kitchen still yawning. Mum had stuck a note to the fridge informing me that she and Papa James had already left for the hospital after putting Lilly to sleep.

My parents were Neurosurgeons, probably the best ever. I didn't know much about their work but I knew that they worked under a special medical company with branches all over the world. Hence, transfer from one hospital to another happened more times than I could count.

The glass of cold water soothed my throat and I made a mental note to check on Lilly before going back to my room.

Suddenly, a loud crash from outside made its way to my ears. It sounded like the trash can had fallen.

Probably a stray cat.

But then, my ears picked up loud footsteps and a groan of someone in pain.

“Stupid, trash can!” I heard a man's voice. Definitely not a cat.

A thief?
I hope not.
Or worse, a serial killer!

With my heart pounding loudly in my ears, I quickly ducked down behind the kitchen counter, blocking my body from the intruder’s view.

The kitchen light was switched on and the curtains were open, so it would’ve been easy for him to see me from outside.

While inhaling deeper, I tried to slow the beating of my heart before it burst out of my chest. The space within this cavity seemed to be getting tighter, my breaths becoming shorter and faster.

I was hyperventilating.

Calm down, Rachel. Breathe! I told myself, streamlining my concentration to getting more air into my lungs.

Just breathe and think!
You need a plan.

Thankfully, my breathing returned to normal and I started racking my brain for the safest and best action to take in this situation.

Right then and there, I had only two options: the first was to call 911, but my phone was upstairs. If I decided to abandon my hidden position and race for it, the thief might notice me and either run away or attack before I got there.

The second option, which I thought would be the best, was to attack the thief when he least expected.

Luckily, Mum had forced me to take self-defense classes.  Although I never passed the first stage—you could blame my weak bones for the little setback—this was the best situation to put my skills to practice.

He thought he could steal from helpless girls, but he was wrong... So wrong.

My palms were wet as I crawled, the frying pan I held in my hand as a weapon clinking quietly against the floor.

Lifting myself up a little, I peered through the window into our driveway.

The thief was oblivious of my presence as he walked in a not-so-straight line towards our porch.

Was he...drunk?

It was difficult to identify who this person was since his face was blocked by a large hood. But something was definitely wrong. The man’s steps were slouchy and imprecise, almost like someone who was intoxicated.

My doubts were cleared as he slipped, falling his butt first to the ground. A loud groan followed, accompanied by some incomprehensible words, and he found his feet once again, aggressively rubbing his rump.

He’s definitely drunk. No doubts about that.

My crouched figure shook with relief. A drunk who seemed lost was a hundred times better than a thief. And a thousand times better than a serial killer.

My eyes remained rooted on the drunk intruder, closely watching as he staggered to the rose bush in front of our driveway. Unsteady hands reached for his belt, and he started unbuckling like his life depended on getting it open.

What was he trying to do?

And then it all suddenly clicked into place. The voice in my head began to chime like a big, brass bell.

Oh, no...
He wants to urinate on my flowers!

Without any second thoughts, I dashed out of the house. I knew that if I wasn't fast enough my flowers would be drenched in beer piss.

“Stop!” I yelled, shoving the unknown man to the ground before any damage was done.

The force of the push had caused the hood, obstructing his face to fall off.

I couldn’t believe my eyes.

It was Mr. Creepy.

***

More insight into Rachel's character. I hope you're loving her as much as I am.

Who's excited about the next chapter?