I pushed the window up, skin tingling with excitement. The fact that my bedroom was on the second floor didn't bother me; I mean, why would it, with my secret? As quietly as I could, I climbed out the open window. For a moment, I just stood on the ledge, taking the first deep breath I had all day. It was finally time; I didn't need to worry about being trapped at home or at school, keeping quiet as I slowly suffocated from lack of space. At night, I was free.

Smiling with pure bliss at what was to come, I jumped.

I didn't close my eyes once, as I plummeted toward the ground two stories below. The wind rushing past filled me with exhilaration, and my heart pounded in my chest. I'm alive, I'm ALIVE, I'M ALIVE! It seemed to shout. At the last second, I spread my arms like a bird and soared upwards, fighting down a yell of glee. I didn't want my parents, the notoriously light sleepers, to hear​ me. I spiraled around the huge oak tree in the backyard, glorying in the addictive feeling of freedom. When I reached the top, I rested the tips of my toes to the highest leaf and simply stood there for a moment, taking in the acres of land surrounding me. And basked in the knowledge that it was all mine to explore.

Poised like a diver, I allowed myself to tip forward until I was falling straight down, then pulled up at the last second and worked the momentum off in little spirals. It was my favorite thing to do when I was flying. The night air was cool as it caressed my skin, and I gave a little shiver of delight as I dipped and glided. When I was far enough away, several acres from any civilizations​, I let out a whoop of pure euthoria. I was finally free. There was no one else but me in this lonely, moonlight-washed world, and that was the way I liked it. There was no one to impress, no one to obey, no one to hurt me. All there was, was me! Alighting on the top of an old, majestic tree, I pushed off and soared upwards. I wanted to get as far away from the God-forsaken earth as I could. I wanted to feel the wind, and someday, the clouds.

Catching a particularly strong gust of icy wind, I rode it, screaming, relishing the feeling of being alive. Night was the only time I could truly be me. Because me, I was an explorer, who hated limits and ties. Anything that kept me from being free. And someday, when I was old enough, I was going to pack my bags and see the world, all of it. And I knew I would never look back. But for now, I had to stay relatively close to home, so I could be back in time for morning. Because I couldn't risk anyone seeing me, I could only fly at night, and over the countryside. Since nature was the only thing I wanted to see, that didn't bother me, but I hated that nights didn't last more that 12 hours. For me, those twelve hours were like a wedge of cheese to a starving man: never enough, but the only thing keeping me alive.

Still riding the icy updrift, I checked my watch. And nearly cried when I realized it was already four in the morning. If I wanted to get back before sunrise, which was around six thirty in the spring months, I had to go back. I always hated this part of the night. I felt an escaped prisoner slinking back to put my handcuffs back on: uselessly and utterly trapped. Casting one more look at all the empty space around me begging to be explored, I sighed and began the journey back.

Before crawling through the window, I did one last spiral around my oak tree, wishing I had more time. Alighting on the window sill, I found I couldn't bear to shut myself up just yet. So I settled down on the ledge to watch the sun rise, sighing as another day began. As beautiful as it was, I longed to stop its ascent. It meant the end of my freedom, and the beginning of another day of hell. With one last wistful look at the endless fields surrounding my house, I crawled inside and shut the window firmly, my heart breaking a little as I did so. I didn't bother climbing into bed since my alarm would go off in less than twenty minutes, and crept downstairs to get breakfast.

I was sitting on the stairs, cradling a bowl of cereal in my lap when I heard the door to my parent's room open down the hall. My bleary eyed mother walked out, rubbing her face with her hands to wake up. When she saw my little sister running towards her, she smiled and enveloped her in a tight hug. I missed those hugs. They were the only pleasent trapped feelings I'd ever had, and I couldn't remember the last time I'd gotten one. I sighed quietly, lost in thought. When I looked up from my cereal, I saw my dad looking at me intensely. "She's looking tired again, isn't she?" He asked my mother in an undertone. She walked closer and switched on the light above me, making me wince and casting my features into sharper relief. After studying my face for a moment, she waved dismissively. "It's her allergies. She's always had dark circles under her eyes." No, Mother, only for the past five years, since I discovered I could fly. But then again, I thought bitterly, you haven't looked at me since Ally was born except to order me to do stuff, so it's not like you'd notice.

My dad studied me for a moment longer, brow furrowed. I tried to keep my face blank, but I found myself hoping against hope that he might see past it. That he might ask me how I was, if I was okay. It had been a long time since anyone cared enough to ask me that.. But just as I was about to crack and tell him how abandoned I felt, he turned away and got out the eggs to make him, Mother, and Ally their breakfast. My dad made the best omlets, I thought, heart twisting painfully. I wished he would ask me if I wanted one. He hadn't asked in five years.

I ate the rest of my bowl of cereal in the shadows, watching the happy family of three in the dining room, my dad feeding little Ally as she sat in Mother's lap. She squealed happily and scrunched up her face to make Dad laugh. As I shoveled in the last spoonful of Fruit Loops, I tasted the salt of my tears mixed in with the too-sweet milk. Leaving the bowl on the stairs, I rushed upstairs and threw myself on my bed. Sobbing into my pillow to muffle the sound, I wondered why I bothered coming back. It wasn't as if anyone would miss me. Faintly I heard my mother's voice from downstairs, "Sweetie, what's your bowl doing on the stairs? You know Thunder will chew it up if you leave stuff laying around."

I swallowed, hard, and managed to reply in a semi-normal voice, "I'll get it in a moment, Mother." They should just give my room to the dog, they clearly love him more than me, I thought. He's a part of their happy little family, unlike me. I mean, I just went to school and stayed in my room when I wasn't cleaning up after Ally. They don't even notice me unless I mess up or something needs doing, so why should I stick around and take up space? Choking back an angry scream, I pulled a muscle shirt out of my closet, along with jeans, a bra, socks, boots, and a jacket. After slipping them on, I brushed my hair, which I hadn't washed in three days, and put it up into a high ponytail. Throwing my backpack over my shoulder, I ran out the door, not saying goodbye to anyone and leaving the d*mn bowl on the stairs. I didn't even care anymore.

Just wait until tonight, I whispered to myself. You just have to make it through the day, then you'll be free again.

That promise of freedom was my last link to sanity.