Open Arms
Fear (1/3)
(Ryan Ross’ P.O.V)
Rain and hail pounded against the windows, lightning lit up the room, and thunder shook the house. I sat on my bare bed, the sheets and quilt having been thrown to the floor hours before when the storm jolted me awake, with my knees drawn up to my chest and tears streaming down my face faster than the rain. If it was two things I hated it was storms and the dark, and it was my luck, the storm had knocked the power out and I was too much of a coward to get the emergency candles from the kitchen. The thunder boomed again making the windows rattle in their frames and me to be sent stumbling through my room and across the hall to Spencer’s room.
Rain and hail pounded against the windows, lightning lit up the room, and thunder shook the house. I sat on my bare bed, the sheets and quilt having been thrown to the floor hours before when the storm jolted me awake, with my knees drawn up to my chest and tears streaming down my face faster than the rain. If it was two things I hated it was storms and the dark, and it was my luck, the storm had knocked the power out and I was too much of a coward to get the emergency candles from the kitchen. The thunder boomed again making the windows rattle in their frames and me to be sent stumbling through my room and across the hall to Spencer’s room.