I do go inside once my mom arrives home only a few minutes after settling down on the steps.

    She's pleasantly surprised to see me chilling outside, but thankfully, doesn't question why I'm out here.

   Xalale isn't the top priority on my mind as proven by the fact that I lock the door on my way in, forgetting all about how he doesn't have any other way to get in the house.

   It's 8:30 on the dot and we make ourselves TV dinners- which we, of course, eat in the family room. It's almost jeering how normal things feel sometimes whenever Xalale's not around to remind me of the true situation I'm in. I feel like I'm still on the same crazy roller coaster I'd thought was over, but it turns out it was only part one.

   But my thoughts are far from my current troubles as we watch a previously recorded episode of Family Feud. Laughing along with my parents does relieve more of my pent up anger that's been simmering inside me all night- I guess laughter is the best medicine.

   We don't have to trudge through the commercials- we can just skip them- but it gives my dad the opportunity to talk to my mom a little without interrupting much.

   "Me and Mal were going to go stargazin' Sunday night."

   My mom, perched on her usual spot on the couch, looks over at me and smiles.

   "Oh, that's nice. I remember you two used to do that all the time when you were younger. I hope the weather will stay clear for that."

   "Keepin' my fingers crossed." He replies.

   I've been pretty quiet throughout most of dinner, only laughing and trying to guess answers every now and then, but mainly I've kept to myself. My mom must take note- as she always does with her hawk like senses- and once the show is over and my dad goes to the kitchen to do the dishes, she stops me before I can get up and go.

   "Everything alright, sweetie? You seem awfully quiet tonight."

   I shrug, "I'm fine, just tired."

   That's probably the most see through excuse anyone could come up with. The worry lines creased across her face make her appear older than she actually is, which means she's highly concerned by this point.

   She doesn't even need to indicate for me to take a seat on the other end of the couch- I take that upon myself.

   Her concerned eyes search me as if looking for the reason behind my sullen mood.

   "What's wrong, hun?"

   Resting my elbows on my knees, cupping my chin in my hands, I stare at the dingy, carpeted floor, not sure of how to fully or properly respond. My mom is patient, though, and doesn't rush me along, only continuing to look at me with thoughtful eyes.

   Finally, I give.

   "I just feel so useless sometimes, so pointless, like- like what is my purpose here? I know you keep telling me to keep searching for my talent, but I'm getting tired of waiting to discover it- I'm tired of failing. I mean, I'm tired of waiting for a lot of things."

   I'm looking back at her now, expecting her to respond in her usual way, but she surprises me.

   Straightening herself, her eyes shift from concerned to sapient.

   "Well, what are you waiting for?"

   Stumped for a second, I recover, shrugging somewhat.

   "I dunno exactly, but- I mean, I want- I want a happy ending. I want everything to be wrapped up with a little neat bow. I know it's out there, but I just want what I want...I guess."

   She doesn't respond to that right away, but seems to be analyzing the situation like a wise old owl would, she closes her eyes for a brief second then opening them back up before pushing the blanket off and getting up. I watch unsure of what she's going to say; she's never left me hanging for this long. She stretches a little then picks up her home decor magazine, almost about to turn and leave, but as if remembering she hadn't responded to me, she adds thoughtfully.

   "Well, I was once told that what I wanted was the world and what I have is the world." She smiles at me, kissing me on the cheek as she passes by. "I'll be in the bathroom if you need me."

    The stressful creaking of the floorboards tells me she's left the room leaving me in a now confused state.

   "'I was once told what I wanted was the world and what I have is the world'? What does that have to do with anything!?" Usually after I finish talking to my mom, I always feel certain and assured, but right now I'm more confused and slightly annoyed. "Well thanks for the advice, mom."

    Huffing, I get up from the couch and head to my room where I turn on my computer and lose myself in the infinite Web.

    My mom swings by my room after she's finished taking her shower.

   "You okay in here?"

   I barely glance up from the screen, "Yeah."

   "Okay, I assume you're going to be in here the rest of the night?"

   Mumbles of a half-hearted answer.

   "Well, I'm going to chill out in the family room for another hour before heading to bed. I just wanted to say goodnight just in case."

   "Night." My eyes don't even leave the screen.

   Her presence is still felt as she lingers by the door then leaves.

   Today felt like crap- I felt like crap. I just want tomorrow to come already and give me a fresh start- today felt too long.

   Closing my laptop, my body feels drained and heavier than lead. It's only then, leaning back against the wall on my bed that I realize how empty the room feels.

   "Shit!"

   Jumping off the bed like it was a hot pan, I fly out of my room to the front entry where I stop myself before racing out. Peering into the family room, I see both of my parents lounging in there.

   This is definitely going to be a tough one.

   Getting outside is going to be difficult in of itself seeing how noisy the storm door is- it's going to alert my parents immediately. I need to conjure up a feasible excuse as to why I need to sneak outside.

   Casually entering the family room, I attempt to put my lie into action.

   Upon my entrance, my mom puts down her magazine to look at me.

   "What's up, sweetie?"

   "Don't give yourself away, don't give yourself away, just breathe."

   "I need to go outside for a second, I forgot my journal out there."

   "How'd your journal get out there?" My dad asks, still fixated on the screen.

   "I was sketching some things before it started raining."

   My mom frowns, "I'm sure it got soaked then."

    "Oh, uh, I mean I put it somewhere it wouldn't get wet."

     "Gah!" My story's already falling apart.

    "I have to go get it, wet or not," I say with finality, heading to the door.

    "Alright." My mom watches me go with- I can sense- slight concern still in her eyes.

    I let out a quick breath once I'm outside, taking in the crisp, night air, though, I can't stay out here too long since my parents will start to get suspicious of my prolong absence. Immediately, I set out to the woods, having a strong inkling that I might find him there. I'm not entirely sure why he prefers the woods so much. I suppose it has something to do with how there are dark woods and meadows behind the castle, but I can't be positive.

   Nevertheless, my intuition turns out to be right on the money and I spot him in the direction of the shed, sitting, slumped over on a stump.

   Xalale must constantly be thinking since that's all I ever see him do; ponder and glare, that's about it.

   The moon isn't the brightest light source out here tonight, so it's a little tricky navigating the woods, hoping you're not stepping somewhere potentially dangerous in the dark. The coverage of the leaves on the forest floor doesn't help either.

   "Xalale. Xalale."

    I nearly kill myself tripping over a tree root, losing my footing for a moment but quickly recovering before falling to the ground.

   Finally, I make it over to where he's sitting, clearly in concentration.

   "Xalale, you gotta come in, it's getting late."

   He doesn't even acknowledge that I'm there. Holding back a sigh, I lift my gaze to the treetops trying to regain my patience.

   We don't have all the time in the world for this. Plus, these woods always creep me out a little whenever it's dark out. It reminds me of the Dark Forest so sinister and eerie.

   "Look, can you ignore me inside rather than out here? Time is of the essence."

   "I'm not ignoring you." He replies flatly with his eyes still closed in concentration.

   "Oh really?" I say, placing my hands on my hips. "It sure does seem that way from my perspective."

   "That's the problem- perspective."

    He mumbles this last bit a little, causing me to question for clarification.

   "What?"

   His eyes finally open and he glances at me, shaking his head.

   "Nothing."

   "I hate that," I mutter more to myself than him, but he hears me anyway, just not commenting on it.

   The next part I do address to him.

   "Let's stop sitting here thinking and start heading inside."

    Already turning on my heels, I motion for him to come, not bothering to turn around to check if he's following.

   We make it to the porch before I stop and look behind at him.

   His face is unreadable so I'm not sure where I stand with him right now. To be honest, I don't necessarily blame him for giving me the cold shoulder, I just wish I knew exactly what he was thinking.

   "We gotta be quiet coming in because my parents are both in the family room and my mom's really observant. I'll go in first, but you have to stay close behind me so we don't make too much noise."

    Again, he seems to be off in La La Land, this time staring at me in thought.

   "Xalale, focus." I hiss.

   His eyes harden, "What do you think I'm doing?"

   "Stay awhile on Earth will ya."

   He looks away now, probably upset at me. Why must he stare so often? I hate when people stare through me instead of at me, especially, for some reason, when Xalale does it.

   "Alright," I sigh, rubbing my eyes. "Let's do this. Follow my lead."

   The more time I waste out here the more suspicious my parents will become. It's now or never.

    Cautiously, I ease open the storm door then regularly open the main door, walking in, attempting to appear casual.

   "All we have to do is past the family room entrances from the entryway and kitchen. That's all."

   But I'm nervous at this point. I glance behind and thankfully Xalale seems to be shadowing me pretty well. The real test would be walking in sync, making sure my parents don't look our way.

   Before we can begin walking to my room, I signal, silently to Xalale to wait at the door, out of either of my parents' eyesight as I walk into the room.

   "I didn't see it out there. I must've lost it or it's somewhere in here."

    My mom glances up from her novel to make a disappointed, sympathetically face.

   "I'm sure it's in here somewhere. Try searching for it tomorrow."

   "I will."

    I don't want to seem like I'm in a rush to escape anywhere, so I loiter a little while, standing over her as she tries to resume reading her historical fiction. She catches onto this and looks up at me with an expecting face.

   "Yes?"

   Shrugging in response, I then add, "I guess I'll wish you guys goodnight."

   She nods, "Alright, goodnight sweetheart."

   My dad mumbles out a barely audible goodnight, still glued to the screen. My mom returns her attention to the novel, easing my worried mind just slightly that we might get away with sneaking in without detection.

   Returning back to the entryway where Xalale still waits for me, I lean closer to his ear and lower my voice to a whisper.

   "Walk in front of me, but don't go too fast."

   I lean back, waiting for him to start first so I can follow behind. He looks at me with a question expression but looks straight to the kitchen as our destination. Our first hurdle is passing the first entrance into the family room. I pray my mom keeps her nose in her book and my dad memorized by the game.

   Holding my breath, Xalale takes his first steps forward with me sticking close behind. This is definitely more of a teamwork system than I thought. Just one miscalculated, delayed step could arouse suspicion. All my mom has to do is glance up, even for a quick second and she'll spot us.

   Xalale's going too slow for my comfort and it's hard not stepping on the back of his heel when I want to move a little quicker. I give him nonverbal hints by pushing him forward gently. To this he'll turn around, glaring at me, not paying heed to my encouragement then resume his painfully slow pace.

    We're at the halfway mark and I don't think I've ever sweated this profusely doing nothing in my life. I'm even holding my breath at this point, like that determines whether we get caught or not.

    Then, like dark clouds looming on the horizon, I can sense it. I know my mom like the back of my hand- I know almost all her behavioral patterns. We're halfway to reaching the kitchen when I notice the subtle way she becomes disinterested in her book. Her eyelids will lift a little, the look of concentration still on her face but with a changed look of alertness to the real world around her. Her eyes will stop scanning the contents of the page and- the most damning indicator- she'll place a finger up to her upper lip in thought, sensing her surroundings, tilting her head in a thoughtful manner. After that, I know her next move will be glancing up. I can testify with absolute truth that my heart nearly stopped once I notice this. She's at the eyes stopping mid-line stage now. My mind switches off and instincts kick in.

   It's a funny thing when your mind decides to shut off in a survival situation and your instincts kick in. It happens so fast that you can't even begin to register what you're doing until you're midway through the task, even then you can't really stop yourself.

   Maybe this is the process going through my body as my mom reaches the finger to upper lip stage- the final stage before the glance up. I can definitely tell you, instincts, not logic, is the reason why I act so quickly, shoving Xalale, with both hands and full force into the kitchen then squatting down to act like I was previously untying my shoes.

   This is the action my mom catches me in once she glances over at me. I pretend not to notice her stare at first, but then look over at her and smile. She returns it, apparently unconcerned about the thud on the kitchen floor, and just like that, looks back down at her novel, infatuated once again.

   All I can do at this point, still squatting on the ground, is silently thank God that my body actually has reflexes that can function.

   I finish taking my shoes off, tossing them aside, then walk into the kitchen not fully ready to face Xalale's fury.

   He's angry alright. I mean, I did it without warning and so quick and rough that he lost his footing and fell (face first indicating from the red spot on his cheek). Thankfully, though, he can't fuss at me because we aren't in my room yet which means he has to hold in his choice words.

   I merely nod for him to go on. He only does so after giving me another cold glare.

   We arrive at the second entryway with no problem. Xalale doesn't even hesitate going forward past the family room into my room. I have to hustle to keep up with his stride. We pass so fast that I'm sure our steps never even registered with either of my occupied parents.

   I'm the one that quickly shuts the door behind me and lets out a weary sigh of relief to have that over with.

  "Never trying that again," I comment, turning on the lights.

  Looking over at him, I can see he's still quite crossed with me for pushing him into the kitchen without warning. The peeved expression on his face tells me so.

   "Look,"-I hold my hands up in defense- "Don't be mad at me, I was just trying not to get ourselves caught."

   "Yes, but did it really require that much force on your part?" He snaps back.

   "Sorry, I was running on instincts."

   He grumbles something under his breath, which I don't catch, then sits down with his back against my bed.

   Sighing, I collect my night clothes and head to the door.

   "I'm going to change, be right back."

    He doesn't even look at me as I turn to leave- which is fine.

    I end up taking a shower as well since I feel so grimy and dirty. It takes me, overall, about ten to fifteen minutes to do everything I need before heading back to my room.

    Coming back to my room, I notice that Xalale's asleep, still sitting up, leaning against my bed. I don't want to disturb him, so I carefully retrieve my computer and exit the room.

   I spend the rest of my time in the kitchen, at the table, surfing the Web and listening to music. Even after my parents call it a night and go to their room, turning off all the lights except the kitchen one, I'm still up, typing a fanfiction on my computer. In all honesty, I took a long catnap earlier so I'm not really tired. Eventually, I turn off the kitchen light, leaving only the glow of the screen to illuminate my face.

   I stay up till 2 in the morning, still not feeling fatigued, but figuring it's best if I head to bed anyway. Powering off my computer, I start to get up but stop when picking up the device. I must've placed the laptop on top of the completed puzzle and only now after picking it up, realize so. After about staring at it for a good minute of so, I shake my head and silently creep back into my room.

    Xalale is now lying down in a more relaxed position, still asleep. I cautiously get into bed above and huddle down under the covers. Tonight feels colder than last since the rainstorm brought a cold front.

   Glancing over at my alarm clock, I know I've wasted thirty minutes just laying here staring up at the ceiling. Peering down, I watch Xalale sleep for a few minutes (not as creepy as it sounds). He's an attractive sleeper- as weird as that sounds- compared to my restless slumber. He's definitely less irritable when he's asleep, more relaxed in a way he never his when he's awake.

   I must start to nod off a little around 4 because I groggily arose to Xalale's voice.

   Peering over the edge of the bed, I'm not as startled by the occurrence as I was the first time he did this. Now, it's definitely more intriguing to me. He's an attractive sleeper, but with a weird habit of doing things in his sleep. I mean, I've never heard anyone talk in their sleep in my entire life- grant it I don't get out much, but still. I only thought sleep talking was Hollywood fable.

   This time, though, it's different. Last time he spoke in broken, incoherent fragments, but tonight it's different. Still out there and confusing, but different.

   "I never made a promise...I never told her that...I never made her a promise."

    "Made who a promise? Who's her? Is she me?" So confused right now. I continue to listen for anything else.

    But he just repeats what he said about not making a promise before abruptly stopping. Let me tell you, being in the same room as someone who sleep talks can be a pretty freaky thing.

   Lying back down, not tired anymore, my thoughts get lost in trying to figure out what he meant by, "I never made her a promise." Perhaps it was just random words coming from him, but it feels more than that. I could always ask him in the morning, but there will probably be little answer on his part- he barely believes he does talk in his sleep.

   Pushing those thoughts aside, I sigh knowing sleep won't visit me any more tonight.