A/N-Yes,yes, I know... the first chapter was just a bunch of boring background stuff. Theres a little bit in this chapter, but the story is beginning to progress more. I hope that you enjoy it, and please R&R so I know what I should keep on doing or what I need to fix to make the story more enjoyable for you.

Even though I'd fallen asleep late that night, I awoke about a half-hour before the sun rose. I made a large pot of coffee, and sat on the back porch to watch the sun wake the rest of the world.

The first shafts of yellow peeled back the black layer of night, and gold and orange hues jumped thorugh the newly made doorway to daylight. The sun cam yawning and stretching its way past the pine trees, and stared me straight in the face until I had to cover my eyes. A light blue haze engulfed the sky.

It was morning.

I copied the sun and went yawning and stretching into the house, when I noticed the milkboy staring in the window. I rolled my eyes and pushed open the heavy oak door.

"Hello Johnny," I said in a monotone voice.

" 'ello Miz Arriana!" he said in his light Irish accent.

"Beautiful day, innit, Miz Arriana?" he piped.

"Yes, Johnny, it is."

I paid him for the milk and closed the door. I felt a little bad about shutting the door in his face, but I was definitely not in a very social mood. When I was younger, my aunt brought me to a behavioral specialist, and he proclaimed in all of his mighty doctorness that I had some sort of anti-social disorder. He also said that it was most likely caused by the frank abandonment of my parents.

REALLY?

Well,I could have told you that! I couldn't believe that this guy actually received a degree to tell people these sorts of things.

Sometimes, when I was alone at my aunts house, I would sit at a certain secluded window seat, in an empty bedroom on the top floor. I would sit there and daydream about my parents. The best daydreaming days were rainy days, and the storm would throw its tears on the winodow pane. As I sat staring at the gray world, I would try to picture my parents, riding up the stone driveway to come take me home with them. We would go home to a beautiful house, with a beautiful garden, and there wouldn't be any rainy days. Just sunny flower-picking days, or shopping days.

But then the lightning would wake me up, and in a flash of blinding light, my beautiful garden dream was gone. This happened so many times, that I became a bitter, cold child. I envied, resented, and even hated anyone who had a normal life, a normal family.

A beautiful garden family.

I felt like they were stealing my dream, my one hope; they were stealing my chance for freedom and happiness.

Much of my life was spent at that window seat, with the rain casting watery shadows on my face. Sometimes I'd press my cheek to the window and rain would urn down one side, tears down the other. No matter how long I gazed at the driveway, it would always stay empty. And when I would think about the big picture, I was just a little girl in a window, staring at the rain, quietly crying to herself...and no one cared.

As I sat there reminiscing, I realized that I was crying. I angrily swiped away the tears and stood. Those days were over.

Reality came back quickly. I would have to start cleaning today.

The entire inside of my mothers house was filthy. She was sick for the last few years of her life, so I imagine she didn't have the energy to clean. I felt a slight pang when I thought about my mothers death, but I quickly pushed it away. Besides, I hardly knew the woman.

I cleaned and scrubbed until the once-clear water was a dirty, mucky brown, and it was still before noon. And I still had another four rooms to clean.I resisted the urge to dent the wall with my head and continued in my cleaning frenzy. I worked all through the morning and part of the afternoon, and it barely looked like I did anything.

I let out a sigh of long-suffering and collapsed into a chair. Joining me was my good friend Mr. Glass-of-Wine. I closed my eyes for a few minutes, and I could feel myself nodding off.

I must have fallen asleep. I was awakened from my stupor by a quiet voice and a set of soft brown eyes.

"Miss?"

My eyes burst open. The large frame of a man filled my view.I screamed and toppled out of my chair.

My first thought was to obtain a weapon, so I seized the fire poker from the stand next to the fireplace and brandished it at the intruder. His eyebrows raised and he held up his hands as if I was going to shoot him. In one hand he carried a small basket.

Of course, I probably wasn't very threatening, because my hair was in wild disarray and my hands, as well as the fire poker, were shaking. In fact, I could see he was trying not to laugh.

I blew some of the hair out of my eyes.

"What-what do you want?" I tried to steady my hands, but they seemed intent on making me look stupid.

He pointed to the basket with his free hand.

"I was just bringing over a welcome gift. You know... to welcome you?"

I eyed it warily, then motioned between it and the table with the poker.

"There. Set it down. Over there."

He slowly set it down and backed towards the door. I followed him, still holding the poker.

"Well...goodbye." He walked out the door, which I promptly closed behind him. Through the small window in the door, I watched him walk down the road to one of the only other houses on this street.

I rested my forehead against the window and sighed.

Great.

Now I'm chasing away my neighbors with fire pokers.

A/n-Well,theres chapter two. Its pretty short, I know, but I'll be updating soon. I promise. Constructive criticism or just your thoughts on the chapter would be greatly appreciated!

An Insomniac