• The sounds of the raindrops patted on the sunroof, leaving little droplets all over the clean glass. Without a second thought Angela put a towel under the roof, and then returned to her bed. Staring at the clean beautiful wooden posts on her bed she sang softly to the black birds on her desk. The parakeet and Lovebird sang back to her. She whipped a remote out and turned on the stereo turning on the loud hateful teenage music she had adapted to hearing. She looked around, at the desk where she had two pictures, one of a boy who looked to be very upset, and one of an old woman, clearly happy. She didn’t bother to think twice as she looked them over, and looked around. Her phone rang, and she considered not answering it at all, before finally picking it up.
    “You coming over” a harsh male voice immediately filled the silence.
    She mumbled before answering “probably not, I’m not in the mood”
    “Come on Angel, you know you need company, beautiful or not, you can’t stay cooped up in the new bedroom, Forever, You could use the exercise”
    “I suppose, you might be right, give me half an hour ok?” Before anyone could keep track of her, she pulled on baggy cargo pants, and a tight tank top, and slipped on her sneakers, taking off down the street at full speed. Without noticing, her ankle folded over and she was lying on the sidewalk, on her face. She quickly unfolded herself and put a hand under her sore nose, seeing if she would see blood, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to see. Blood trickled down her arm from a cut where shed rolled on a piece of glass, and blood fell from her nose from the impact. She shook her head, and attempted to ignore the blood everywhere, she continued her graceless run, limping slightly until she arrived at her friend’s house.
    “What happened to YOU?” he said in a confused daze.
    “I tripped” she mumbled as she let herself in.
    “Sit down… I want a look at you. God sis, did you really do this to yourself? How do you ‘trip’ this badly?” he lead her to a stool and went for the first aid kit. Getting an unenthused ‘yay’ out of his beaten up little sister.