Louie.

A rug, made of thick wool knitted together to create some sort of orange and blue, faded in and out triangles in rows. It rest on dark hardwood floor that spans my entire room, but ends at my door way.

Then there's a desk, a set of drawers, and an empty television stand made of lighter, sandy wood. My finger tips spread across the polished wood of the desk that's to my left. The surface is smooth and blemish free, brand new.

Every piece of furniture in my room is brand new, except for my bed sheets.

My bed sheet are a soft, faded blue, as if they've been used thousands of times but they're warm.

I hear myself sigh and turn my attention at the wall to my right. My fingers slowly ghost across it, feeling the indents of paint rolled on by foam. The paint is cool and my fingertips brush over a few drops of paint that have dried to protrude out.

I sigh again and look at my ceiling, listening to the other occupants of the house.

I can here my step-mom, Beth, mimicking cars while she plays with my youngest step-sibling, Louie. Louie copies her sounds and then makes explosions with his mouth. He yells out in protest and states the car accident, to which Beth profusely apologizes and claims it was a movie stunt.

I scoff.

In another room Beatrice and Lizbeth argue. Beatrice rants over the importance of reading in peace while Lizbeth complains about the importance of perfectly manicured nails. I fail to realize what the activities have in common but both of my step-sisters continue to bicker anyways.

Music is the only sound coming from Lorraine's room so I can only assume that she and Rockwell are lounging around like me. But I'm sure the two are enjoying it much more.

My eyelids close and I attempt to drown them all out by playing music with my mind. My thoughts are consumed with guitar strokes and drum beats of memorized songs. Voices sing of pain and anger, all mixing to create a continues stream of music. But all of it happens within the confines of my brain.

I'd use my Ipod, but my dad took that away too.

With the notes playing in my head, my fingers itch to form something beautiful. To mold some art medium into something solid and meaningful. But I'm not extremely artistic, and I can't play an instrument.

Regardless of it all I get up to sit in the chair in front of my desk. I pull out a simple sheet of line paper and blue pen. I sigh and press the ink into the sheet, repeatedly etching in a circle. I press it in until it forms an indent and the lines are prominent, forming a single thick line.

For a moment I ponder drawing flames that branch out from the circle with a smile and sunglasses inside the shape. But I quickly shake my head and lightly draw a few smaller circles onto the paper, within the confines of the sphere.

A moon.

A fucking moon.

I growl at the simplicity and furiously draw a dark spheare the over laps a majority of the moon but leaves enough space to see the spheares on the mass of rock.

A lunar ecplipse?

That's my fucking talent. I crumble up the paper into a ball and shake my head.

This isn't how my summer is suppose to be going.

The summer before my senior year was suppose to be amazing and life changing in so many exciting ways. I was suppose to be doing stupid things with my friends and acting naïve before we needed to start making adult decisions. I was suppose to party late and kiss any one I could get my hands on, or exchange conversations with everyone around me.

I was suppose to be out skating all day, getting kicked off supermarket parking lots, building ramps out of wood, and sneaking out late for burger joint runs.

I am suppose to be out adventuring.

But I'm here and. . . I don't want be here.

I don't want to feel like this everyday.

"If anyone wants to watch a science fiction movie with us, come down and join us on the couch now" Lorraine calls out to everyone. She turns off the music in her room and makes her way down the hallway with Rockwell following. I spin around in my chair in time to for both of our gazes to meet.

The hipster flashes me a small smile before he's out of sight and slowly making his way down the stairs.

I sigh in defeat and slowly make my way after them with Beatrice the only one willing to join in on the movie watching as well.