Layla sat there in her room, drumming her long painted fingers, the fingernails drumming the same pattern at every stroke. She found herself sat there growing bored and weary, yet it was Saturday night and only 9:00.
Her parents in bed already and the eagerness to feel the night's breath on her supple, pallid skin became ever so enticing. ‘'I've got to do this'' she said aloud, not quite the courageous motivating voice she had hoped for.
She caught her own gaze in the mirror and stared for a while. Some would say she was quite pretty and popular, I mean who wouldn't call her pretty. She had beautiful azure eyes and long flaxen hair that she'd been growing ever since she had been younger and with a lithe figure that any girl would honestly want.
‘'Screw it!'' she thought, her voice growing ever more audacious, she drew from the floor and picked up a comfortable but warm jacket. It was only September yet there was snow on the ground, she opened the window that looked out onto the street and gently leapt onto the downstairs roof that then would lead her onto the street. Layla gently closed her window, but only enough so that she could get back in again.
She gracefully landed onto the green in front of her and started to bolt in a sudden rush of freedom, such freedom she hadn't felt since the last time she'd done this, until she got caught and taken home by the authorities.
As soon as she knew she was safe from getting caught by her mum and dad she walked lazily, taking in the night's cold, crisp air, steadily breathing, laboring breaths until she realized it wasn't her own.
At first she thinks it may be the police and feels the laboring breaths and pitter patter of rapid feet gathering closer, a hand lays on her shoulder and she struggles to escape the iron grasp so she swings around her arms flailing in front of her, catching the perfect stranger right on his face.
Layla gasped, pulled her hand away to find the bright, attentive green eyes staring back narrowing and immediately spiteful. His head cocked a little while his perfect frowned mouth said ‘'how dare you?'' each word and syllable enunciated thoroughly and neatly.
She ran again making sure she had lost him. She was sure that she had lost him, she ran around the block to find her way home and soon found the old Edwardian house, she then climbed up the trellis that cradled the roses, so delicately and dived into the window whilst crashing and stumbling into everything.
So much so that she had broken the mirror and cut her hand, sending red liquid gushing as she had sliced open the pipeline to her heart. Because she was so preoccupied with the slice, she had forgotten the window was open.
But it was way too late..