Hold On 'Til the Night
Indigo feels such a strong desire to pull her cobalt-blue hair right out, or maybe to scream at the top of her lungs. Instead, she paces – back and forth, back and forth – across her small attic room, the peaked roof above her lowering to meet the floor at the edges of her room, forcing her to duck her head as she moves. The floor itself, old wooden floorboards, creaks slowly as she crosses the small space, and sometimes she thinks she should stop, be quiet, because maybe her stepmom, Stacy – why does she have to be such a light sleeper? Indigo angrily questions in her mind, frustrated at something the other woman can't control because of all the other things that she can – might wake up, and that would be bad, because then Indigo would probably be grounded for a week.
Indigo sighs heavily several times, trying to relieve the pressure on her chest, before finally pivoting on her heel one last time, mind made up, as she grabs her soft and worn black leather jacket and sliding it on over her purple night shirt, and tucking the edges of her blue-and-white plaid sweatpants into her combat boots. With that, she's climbing down the white-washed ladder and down a narrow corridor to get to the staircase, which she quietly creeps down. The third step from the bottom creaks, long and loud, and Indigo can hear someone getting out of bed – there's the sound of Stacy's feet landing softly on the carpeted floor, and her lamp switching on with a distinctive click – and Indigo lets out a muffled curse before racing the rest of the way to the front door, which she throws open.
Indigo dashes out into the night, the dark sky above scattered with coldly shining stars that watch the small figure below scamper through empty streets.