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(23) The Quiet
Rogan “Must all of you be in my room?” I groan. Pulling myself off of my bed and groggily climb down the ladder of my loft to face the intruders of my home. The home that I finally had the time to clean because of all the overthinking and nervous anxiety that I couldn’t help but clean it to keep my mind occupied. Since the ball, I waited for any contact from my grandparents, but none came. It feels more like the calm before the storm and nothing else felt quite right as I wait for them to say that they’ve heard that I was at the party when I was strictly banned from going there. That night was such a blur that I could barely remember the last time I slept till I broke down on my bed with my worries just chipping at me till I couldn’t anymore and fell asleep. Now, I’m awakened by the
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