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Each rustle of my own sheets seemed to be deafeningly loud, and something out there in the hall was maybe listening for signs of life. Something was awake and moving in the house. Maybe it was not entirely real, but it was real enough that it scared me. What it was, I didn't know. And my imagination seized on the black question mark of its identity to send rolling chills up and down my body.
Light, and noise, one awake parent, and all menace would be dispelled. But there was no sign they were awake, or even in the house.
I strained to hear movement in the hallway. I pretended to be dead. I thought that if I stayed silent, and didn't move, I might be relatively safe. I lay still and I prayed and prayed, bladder bursting, for either of my parents to wake up and go the bathroom, turn on lights, runs some water, something. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, I pissed in the corner behind my bed.
In the morning I woke up and ran downstairs, I was alive! Alive!
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but thats nothing special really, i always wake up in the morning after i've been out drinking, and feel that shit-need. but never before that early..
