Pull Me Out of the Rain

I decided I needed time to think.

This whole Trace thing was driving me crazy, and school certainly wasn't making it any better. Since Katie had died, people had been so fake. People who wouldn't even look at me were asking if I was OK. Like they really gave a shit. And eventually, after nodding and saying yes for the thousandth time, they stopped. Just like that. And so it went back to how it always was. They ignored me, I stayed away from them.

Honestly, I didn't know what it was. I wasn't some freak who had rabies. I didn't wear huge black baggy pants with chains on them. I didn't have a pet tarantula. I was pretty normal, at least I thought so. I usually wore converse, jeans, and a tee. When it was hot, a flowy tank top. Maybe I was too nice. Whatever it was, I wasn't welcome. And I think, for the most part, that was ok with me.

So I headed to the place I always did when I needed to think.

An old treehouse about a half a mile down from my house.

The opposite direction from Trace's house.

Katie hadn't even known about this place, and even though I had wanted to show it to her, for some reason I couldn't. I shared everything else, and this place was all mine.

I didn't even take the time to dump my backpack off at my house, and held my breathe when I passed her house, turning my iPod almost as loud as it would go.

I blocked out my memories, and started to sprint past it.

When I reached the edge of the forest, I could see a sliver of the treehouse, and the ladder leading up to it.

I smiled and shuffled through the leaves, clearing out an old path. I guess I hadn't been here in awhile.

But as I got closer, I stopped dead in my tracks.

There was a light coming through one of the small windows, and I could faintly here music in the background.

I squinted, trying to make out anything else.

Someone was in my treehouse.