The air bit at my cheeks mercilessly. I stumbled down the street tiredly, my face stinging from tears. Well, tears both ways. The salty liquid that comes out of your eyes when you are really sad or are in pain, and little cuts here and there. My boots caught on every single crack possible, making me shake even harder.

It had been a bad night with my parents.

They should just file the divorce. I thought bitterly as I shivered.

My mind replayed the scene that had just happened a few minutes ago.

"Get out!" My mother screamed, shoving my father towards the door "Get the heck out of this house before I blow my head off!

"That's just fine with me!" He had retorted, his face red with rage. As he stormed out, my mother began to throw things, so I cleared out as quickly as possible. No one wants to be with my angry mom. But I still got some glass in my face, hence the cuts.

Wiping tears away, I reflected on myself. I live at my friend's flat at the request of my parents, they don't want me to get hurt, and I'll be going into college soon. I chuckled coldly at the thought of my pitiful, eighteen year old life. Go figure that my parents have to ruin it even more.

The coat I have wrapped tightly around me barely seems to have any effect against the bitter cold. I tightened my scarf and passed the park entrance, only to stop. I love my friend Cassandra and all, but tonight seems like the perfect night for her to go on a drinking spree. I peek around the brick pillar that marks the park and make up my mind. As I walk inside the park, my breath seems to get attacked by tiny, vicious cold molecules and the fog dissipates.

I duck off into the woods that frame the edges of the path and make straight for my favorite tree. It's practically my second home, it has a large hole in the middle that even I can fit into. But I leave the hole for animals and take the giant branch.

My boots crunch softly against leaves, and I realize I'm still carrying my journal, pencil, and flash light. Grinning, I follow the beaten path I have made to the tree, and break into the clearing.

Thank god for that tree. Without it, I might not have survived the six years this has been going on for.

I stuff the book into my jacket without thought and hold the pencil and flashlight in my mouth. I take a running start and leap onto the slightly slanted trunk, and swing up to the branch. I take what I call my "tree blanket" out of a crook in the tree and snuggle up, only to spit out my pencil and flash light, which were beginning to start a gag reflex.

I heard a chatter of two raccoons and smile. This is where every human being should be, I thought Out in the wilderness, away from electricity and civilization. I shift in my fuzzy cocoon and drag out my very heavy journal. I caress the cover lovingly. This book, this tree, helped me through keeping my sanity. The pages have been there since I've been thirteen years old, and majority of them have been water stained from that one accident when I left my journal out in the rain. Every day, since age thirteen, stands in that book. Could be called a novel, I suppose.

My flash light flickers happily, scanning over the messy words with glee. I really begin getting into the time when I beat the crap out of a snotty girl in seventh grade, but I am interrupted by a wheezing, lovely sound. I turn off my flashlight immediately, thinking that a construction worker made his way into the woods with… well, with what? A shiny chainsaw? The noise stopped, and I realized how loudly I was breathing. I quieted myself by breathing through my mouth while keeping my lips more closely together, and listened intently. I hear…

Nothing. I hate hearing nothing. All the animals are silent, listening like me. For the thousandth time in my life, I cursed my feeble, human ears at their inept hearing. Dogs are so lucky.

I push the blanket off me slowly, not wanting to be heard. With practiced caution, I slip the book and my writing supplies into the crook and swing, silently, to the ground. I squint at a mysterious light in the woods. It was high up, maybe six or seven feet off the ground. I wondered what on Earth it was.

Well, it wasn't from Earth, that's for sure.

But you're way ahead of me already, aren't you?

As I crept closer, the cold bit at my shoulders. Not daring to rub them, I ignored the frigid air and tip-toed forward slowly. I saw that it was an old fashioned police box, with beautiful blue wood. I blinked, realizing I was in a daze. I snapped out of it just in time, the door creaked open and I dashed away, my heart thumping heavily. Without thinking, I jumped onto the tree branch and took out my book. Huddling there for a second, I cursed myself for the pure stupidity I just displayed in the situation. Why not get into a tree at the end of autumn, when there are no leaves? I hugged my book to my chest, and took out my blanket. If I were going to get caught, why not in comfort?

I heard footsteps coming out of the box onto the cracked earth, and my heart thumped harder. A raccoon, that stupid raccoon, skittered away, making the- whatever it is- turn my way. As the "whateveritis" walked closer, my mouth became incredibly dry. As I pressed against the bark, I heard a voice not three meters away from me.

"Excuse me, but what are you doing in that tree?"