The sound of gunfire fills my ears, temporarily deafening me. Then the noise comes back in full force, awakening my now ingrained ability to hit the dirt quicker than you can say "panzer".
I crawl under my bed made of wooden palettes, and cover my head with one hands, while at the same time yanking teh bedcover over the gap between floor and frame.
I can hear our wooden door being kicked down and my parents being forced to their knees. I hear them pleading, then to muffled bangs, and two thumps, as their bodies hit the dirt floor.
I see a pair of black leather boots enter my room, and with horror see also the paws of an enormous dog.
The snout of the dog is put to the floor, sniffing and snorting, leading the officer towards the bed.
I scoot closer to the wall, trying to muffle my ragged, uneven breaths.
Then, the boots stopped right in front of my bed, but no rough shouting began, no gunfire riddled me or my bed with bullet holes. Then, I see uniformed knees drop in front of me.
A calloused hand grasps the edge of the covers, and slowly, very slowly pulls it up, to reveal a surprisingly boyish face with a odd expression on his face.
One of, could it be,pity? I try and look as small as possible in the face of the german soldier. I can see clearly his other hand holding a pistol, grasped tightly as if a lifeline.
He then does something very odd. He calls to me in german, which I have picked up a little of, since the war started. I watch as he holds a gloved hand out tome. His speaks again.
"Kommen Sie. Ich werde dich nicht verletzen. Sie werden jetzt sicher sein." "Come. I won't hurt you. You will be safe now." I see the truth behind his eyes. He will truly not hurt me.
I take his hand, and slowly crawl out from under the pallets. I keep one eye on his pistol as he leads me from the house. His hand never wavers toward it.
He gets outside and tells me to stand facing him. He fetches his superior officers, who stand there watching me as the Nazi who found me mumbled to them in german, to low or me to hear.
His commanding officer nods, then i feel a presence behind me. I see another Nazi coming up behind me. I am suddenly hyper aware of what is going to happen.
I start to run,But the bullet find my skull before I an take a step. I then float, away my presence gone from my corpse, lying at the feet of the man I so briefly trusted.
I bolt upright, my long golden brown hair a mess of snarls from my nightmare.
It was so real, I reach up and feel the back of my head, expecting to feel blood and bone through a hole in my head. But no, my head is smooth as it could be with all my hair in a tangle.
I glance at my clock and the digital numbers click from 3:00 to 3:01. I yawn and stretch then swing my legs from under the thin blanket from which I sleep under. I never seem to get cold.
Its odd, but I'm used to it. I head into my closet, and pull a oversized sweatshirt and black jeans. The sweatshirt I chose today is Neon Blue with black paint splatters all over it.
I slide into my galaxy Converse, my favorite of my multiple pairs. I head over to the bathroom. making sure my door doesnt creak as I slip ito the hallway.
I snatch up my brush and start yanking it through my hair wincing as it caught in the tangles.
After the orture was over, I lip it a few times, then Pull my hood up over it, making sure my hair shows a little bit,
so no one mistakes me for that emo boy who wears so much black makeup he look like a circus act.By this time, its three thirty, soI head downstaris, to make some breakfast.
I pull my pop-tarts out of the toaster and sit on the couch, turning on the TV as I do.
Its an old rerun of Everybody Loves Raymond, which I developed an interest in after having a dream about passing out in front the television, and never waking up.
I watch and eat till i hear my mom upstairs, She gets up at 7, so I know its time to head for Cujo's place.
Shes a downright grump in the morning, unlike me, who has been getting up at 3:00 since I could walk. I go to bed early and wake up early.
I call goodbye from the foyer, and chuckle as she appears over the railing, stumbling half asleep towards the bathroom, waving me on my way.
I slam the door behind me to wake her up a bit more, then duck my head against the rising sun.
I don't know why,but most days the sun seems like my mortal enemy, then on days when the sun doesn't shine, I miss it. I miss cursing it the most.
It gets brighter and brighter as I trudge don the street towards Cujo'shouse.
He's been my best friend since 2nd grade, and our moms have been friends since before then.
Hes more popular than I am, and he is constantly bombarded with girls wanting him and guys trying to pull him into their games during lunch or PE, but he always sticks with me.
I arrive at his house and chuckle again when I notice that he has a padlock on his window, his newest attempt to try and thwart my waking him up early.
I scale the Yew tree outside his winder and pull a hair pin from my pocket. Hs tactics are mediocre for someone who Wants to keep me out. I have been picking locks for 7 years.
Its second nature, surely he knows that. I pick the lock, smiling as it opens without a single click.
I pull the oil squirter from my home bag, and grease the hinges, which everyday seem to be squeaky again.
I then pull the window open, and push the blinds up, revealing, Cujo, tangled in his blankets.
I perch on the sill, catlike, as I draw a earpiece from mybag.Icarefullytiptoeacrossthe room, avoiding the clutter of books, paper, and art supplies.
I carefully put the earpiece in, then preforming my little dance all over again, I sit back on the sill, arrange my self to look as if I've been there for hours,
and then pull my phone out of my pocket. I scroll through my CUJO playlist, then pick the loudest, blaringest, screechiest song I could find.
He blots upright, scrabbles at his ear, then falls out of his bed with a thump and i hear the earpiece clatter onto the floor then skitter away, on the hardwood.
He lets out a groan, but he's out of sight on that side of the bed. I watch as he picks himself up, He glares at me, his chest covered in lint and sut from the floor.
I am laughing so hard, the I lose my balance, and fall backwards out the window. I her him shout, then I hear him trying to run across that atrocity of a floor.
hear another thud, and know he must have slipped on a piece of paper.
"Not, Funny, Alia!
" I hear him call, I let go of the branch I caught hold of, and drop to the ground, and let myself in the front door,
Ready or another day of being the odd girl who's friends with the popular Hottie.