Maroon Nights | A Short Story [COMPLETE]

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A/N Here's the first part! I hope y'all like it :)

When I was little, I would dream that the night was on fire. In the dream, I would open my blinds to the one window in my bedroom and look up to see beautiful warm colors in the sky, like aurora borealis on steroids. I would run outside, reach up, and touch the oranges and yellows, reds and pinks. But every time I lowered my hand, the lights would disappear. I didn't mind too much since even though the lights were gone, they left the sky a bright maroon. I would lay down in the dew covered grass and stare up at the twinkling stars, wondering how long I could stay there, under the maroon night.

When I woke up in the mornings, I was always disappointed. Not only because I liked the unnatural color of the sky in my dream world, but because in the real world, there was little such a thing as peace for me.

Don't get me wrong, I loved being alive, that was for sure, but sometimes I wished that the peace I felt in my dreams would follow me into my stressful life.

Here's how every morning went: wake up, take a shower, and then go down stairs and face my parents aka the Krakens. I call them this only to myself, because if they ever knew that they resembled mythological sea demons in my mind, I would literally die. Not even joking.

And this morning, I knew that they were going to be even extra Kraken-y because I spent an extra few minutes in the shower. Like five, but a schedule is a schedule.

"Rebecca!" my father called from the kitchen as I made my way downstairs. I blew at my bangs in exasperation, a habit I was sure would not be tolerated if my parents knew about it.

"Coming, Baba!"

I walked through the living room and into our small dining room where Baba and Mama were sitting at the table. In the few extra minutes that it took me to get ready, my mother had already finished cooking breakfast.

"Where's Oliver?" I asked, noticing that my munchkin brother was missing.

Right as Mama pointed behind me, an ear piercing scream split through the air as a small body tackled me from behind. I stumbled a few steps but didn't fall, raising my arms to look at my brother. "Really?"

He growled, biting down on the crisply ironed fabric of my shirt and pulling like a rabid dog.

"Hey, stop it!" I yelled, using my palm to push his face away. He ran off, finding his seat at the table and devouring his steamed buns and porridge.

I rolled my eyes at my ten-year-old little brother who always seemed to be a major pain in my side.

"Rebecca, don't roll your eyes," my mother said as she sipped on her steaming tea.

"But he-"

"And tuck in your shirt."

I clamped my mouth shut, wanting so bad to argue with her, but knowing it would only make things worse. My shirt was only untucked because some psycho kid used his teeth to try to eat it. But, of course, I got in trouble for my shirt being untucked while Oliver only got a slight glare from my father. No one cared what he did, really, because, after all, he was a boy. The perfect Chinese son who could do no wrong.

After shoving my shirt back into my skirt, I plopped down next to my brother and methodically scooped my porridge. It was just barely still warm, but I didn't care. I just wanted to finish eating and get out of there.

I felt my lips start to curl into a smile at the thought of leaving.

"Mama, Baba. Is it okay if I go to the study group again today?"