Playing around

It's late.. You can tell based on how dimly lit the room appears to be in the faded moonlight coming through the windows on the wall to the right of you. Your eyes move back down, absently skimming past your wristwatch as if to accentuate the late hour displayed by the ticking hands of the clock that you still haven't taken off for some reason. It's been quite a long day, however, so you don't bother yourself too much with your skewed bedtime routine as you rub your hand over your arm. Your childhood bedroom is much too chilly for your tastes, which is saying something since you like the cold, and you can't help but wonder exactly how long it's been since you last slept here. Years..decades.. it's defintiely been decades since you last saw the rest of your siblings and you wish that you could have drawn that estrangement out longer. You should really get to bed. You're tired and you'll need all your patience and self-control to deal with tomorrow. [[Get ready for bed|Sleep]] [[Look around the room more|Inspect childhood bedroom]]

You decide that it's best to sleep since it's already so late. It won't do you much good to be grouchy in the morning, especially if your eldest sister feels like being a royal pain in your you-know-what. You remove your watch, toe off your socks, and climb under the covers before closing your eyes and drifting off. [[A scream|Wake up]]

You look around the room a bit more closely, a faint, rippling sense of nostalgia creeping through your mind as you stand there. There are too many memories in this house and you'd rather have not come back at all if your mother hadn't insisted. It's not like this is any sort of special occasion really, but it's getting close to Christmas and Mom wanted everyone to be together. Your bedroom is just like you remember, except everything feels much shorter to you now. There are some [[books|Kid books]] on the shelf, [[picture frames|picture frame]] on your old desk, some [[posters|posters]], and a [[toy chest|toy chest]]. Or maybe it would be a better idea to [[sleep|Sleep]].

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You wake up suddenly to the sound of a shriek- the utterance high-pitched and jarring to your sleep muddled brain like someone had dumped ice over your head. On instinct, you sit up and hurry out of your room, practically slamming head first into your brother Adam who appears just as confused as you do, before rushing downstairs to where you heard the scream. You freeze when you arrive at the library, finding your mother staring down at the body of your father sprawled out on the floor with a knife in his chest. [[Ask what happened|Ask what happened]] [[Comfort your mother|Comfort Mom]] [[Check dad's pulse|Check Pulse]]

Jesus, you can't believe how many fairytales you used to read when you were a kid, but maybe it's not that surprising. Fantasy has always been more interesting for you than reality after all- no matter how much your actual life feels like an episode of The OC. (display: "Inspect childhood bedroom")

You go over to the picture frames on your desk. You're honestly surprised you have so many of them. (link: "You look at them thoughtfully.")[You smile faintly at the one of you and your brother Adam hurling water ballons at one another- he is probably the onyl one of your siblings that you actually like. Well..that you STILL like, that is. You make a face at the one near the middle: it's a family picture, or at least one version of it seeing as it features Carol's husband #2 and she's currently on... Crap, four? You can't even remember. Your mother and father are standing in the center while you, Adam, and Tom are to the left, Carol, husband #2, and Margaret to the right of them. It's a miracle that you had all stood so close to each other. You sigh and frown at the one where it's just you and your parents: you can't be more than seven in the photo. Part of you wishes your dad wasn't so successful, hadn't made so much money, maybe then all his kids wouldn't have turned into trust-fund brats who were too far up their own--- You shake your head; best not the think about it, it's out of your hands. Despite his kids, he's a lucky man to have your mother you suppose.] (display:"Inspect childhood bedroom")

Wow, so much 90s it almost makes you naeuseous..or sentimental, you can't tell. The bands alone give you flashbacks to your minute-long emo phase, boombox, and the guitar that is sitting back at your actual apartment. You let out a half-assed snort of a laugh at your Batman poster though. You wanted to be a detective at some point as a kid, but that was a long time ago, and you suppose that writing pays the bills just as well. You smirk faintly. Adam always made you be Robin when they played despite your pleas to be the Dark Knight, and Tom would always play the Joker in their fake heists. (display:"Inspect childhood bedroom")

You stoop down momentarily to open up the chest at the foot of your bed. You chuckle at the GI Joes haphazardly mixed together with some Legos and your Transformers. Maybe some of these were worth something on Ebay.. You're glad you didn't really decide to join the army like you'd aspired at some point--or rather threatened your father with as a fourteen year old, you would have been a terrible soldier. And a terrible ninja too, you think as your eyes skitter over your nunchunks--that you NEVER let your mom find out about--and Ninja Turtle toys. (display:"Inspect childhood bedroom")