feel

2

THE WIND streaming through the window of her car as she drove away from the store sent goosebumps breaking across her skin and a smile to widen across her face. There was nothing quite like driving home in the late hours of morning knowing that there were no obligations waiting behind the creaky door.

The red '67 Chevy impala swung to a stop in front of her shoebox house that sat square and sagging at the end of the dirt road. A grin stayed put on her face as she slid out of the car, grabbing her jacket from its seat in the passenger side before turning the key in the door and stepping out into the overgrown and tangled grass.

A soft sigh fell from her lips as she slipped from the car, locking it behind her and running her hand along the hood.

A whistle formed on her lips as she bounded up the two steps to her sorry excuse for a porch.
The door had always caused her problems no matter how many times Hopper had tried to fix it. She inserted her keys slowly, as though not to startle the white wood.

"C'mon, c'mon," she whispered to herself as she slowly turned the handle, to no avail.
An exasperated scoff echoed from her lips. She stepped back and watched the door with a cocked head.

Her eyes drifted to the side of the door, where etched into the wood was a list of rules.

They read:

CCJ's

1. I don't ask

2. You don't tell

5. Clean up after yourself

3. Drugs = kicked out

4. Windows stay open

Carter, having nothing better to do, slid a hand into the pocket of her green bomber jacket and took out her pocket knife.

She scratched at the surface, smoothing out the D in 'drugs.' After a moment of absentmindedly chipping at the wood and effectively accomplishing nothing noticeable, Carter pocketed her knife once again and stepped back to admire her work.

With a huff she kicked the base of the wall, rolling her eyes as the wood creaked in response.

"You've made it this far, fucker," she whispered, half to herself and half to the house she was slightly ashamed to call hers.

Carter stretched her shoulders, wincing at the tight muscles. She wondered for a moment over whether it was worth mustering up the amount of energy it would take to kick in the door. Deciding it wasn't, Carter shoved her hands into her pockets and marched back down the steps, around the back of the house, and stopped at her bedroom window - which, as always, was wide open.

She mustered up the will for her aching fingers to pull her through but could not yet find it. Instead, she reached into her pocket, produced a lighter and cigarette, shoved the latter unceremoniously between her cold lips, and lit it.

The lighter slid back into her pocket as she took a drag, eyes closing in the familiar feeling of inhaling smoke.

She pulled the cigarette out of her mouth and held her breath for a moment, feeling the blissful heat put pressure against her lungs. When she could hold it no longer she exhaled sharply.
Another drag followed as she eyed the window.

The cigarette found itself between her lips again as she found the will to go inside.

With a sigh she grabbed each side of the window, pushed the toe of her combat boot in between two splitting planks of wood and hoisted herself up and over the frame.