𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 ≪{𝙷𝚊𝚠𝚔𝚜 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛}≫ 𓅇

⪻ ≪ Ⅰ ≫ ꧁ 𝚁𝚞𝚗𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 ꧂ ⪼

⌊"Birds born in a cage, think that flying is an illness."⌉
- Alejandro Jodorowsky
✧----------------✧----------------✧

Slow, steady ticking noises echoed through the house. The only sound that kept the dead silence of her room from suffocating her. Oh how much she enjoyed the peace of a quiet room, but this was different.
She stared at the ceiling, as if she'd been waiting for something- she was indeed, waiting for something. Seconds felt like hours, her from anxiety ridden breaths weren't helping her.

What do they call it? The calm before the storm?
The awareness of yourself making a potentially terrible decision.

【 - 02:00 aм - 】
-вєєρ- вєєρ- вєєρ -
'Finally..'
As relived as she was, her pulse didn't slow down. All her life, that was her second most hated sound after all. A loud and annoying sound, fitting for it to be the noise that would pull her back to reality each and every morning. Not very motivating to be honest.

Quickly, she turned off her Alarm clock, already wide awake. As she had been for the whole night. Even though she tried to sleep, no luck.
In fact, those two words describe Y/n very well-
No Luck
For many, many reasons.

It was ridiculous, honestly, how much bad luck one person could have, so she made it her own running Gag. Perhaps that insider which she shared with no one but herself, was one of the things that actually pulled her out of bed every morning.

Slowly sitting up, she took multiple deep breaths.
And despite her Original plan to get up, get dressed and get ready, she just ended up sitting on her bed, staring into nothing for what felt like an eternity- though, it had only been a few minutes.

'Get over yourself.'; Y/n reminded herself.
She quickly got dressed and cleaned up her room, for what she hoped, was the last time, careful not to make any noise. She just put on a normal gray sweatshirt, on top of that a thick jacket, black leggings and some sneakers. Okay yeah. It looked a bit.... Funky. But this wasn't about fashion, it's about practical comfort.

Quietly putting away her bed sheets, grabbing her phone, she stopped at her desk. On top of it, a few pens, some books and an envelope, a letter. For a split second, she smiled down at the envelope, before turning away and walking to her Wardrobe. No clothes were hung up inside, all that was inside, were a backpack and a suitcase. She grabbed both and started heading to the door.

Before walking out, she made sure everyone in the house was deep asleep.
'Deep breaths Y/n. You got this'; She mentally repeated over and over again, pretending it would have the effect on her that it was supposed to have, actually calming her down.

Quietly creeping down the stairs, the only thing that could have been louder than the incredibly loud snoring of her parents, was her own heartbeat shooting up her throat.
'At this rate I'm signing up for a goddamn heart attack- 💀'

The stairs which she'd walked up and down on for half her life, felt like an endless path that could crumble beneath her feet at any given second.

Finally reaching the last step, she looked forward. The door. She was so so incredibly close.
' Gosh. I never liked stairs but this is some next level stress.' she thought while reaching for the door handle. Her hand, her blood and her mind froze the moment she suddenly heard a few slow and heavy footsteps from upstairs. In that moment only one thing came into her mind,