Every gust of wind shook the lone window, rattling my bones. The lightning danced across the glass, and the crashes of thunder sent the family picture on the shelf crashing to the ground. I hated how dark it was outside; the early hours of the morning hid the storm, taunting me with what was hidden in the rain falling from the sky. I could see the black silhouettes of the trees; the sound of breaking splinters repeated itself in my head. The moon was invisible, the light from the sky completely gone.
The walls of the bathroom stretched to the sky until they met the ceiling, where the light was flickering like a firefly about to loose its shine. The patterns that danced around the small space melted with hopelessness to the ground, where the spikes of the carpet poked at my exposed calves.
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