You know the feeling of falling that wakes you from your sleep? The one that leaves you in a senseless sweat? And how so often it will leave you too shaken to fall back to sleep? I knew the feeling well. I experience it every time I wake from sleep and have since the age of 12. but I welcomed that feeling from the other option, at least I knew I'd experienced some rest if I got to experience that.


I took each step up, drawing me closer to the second floor of forks high, ducking under the tape warning of no entrance. I was alone on my journey and the second floor was empty and Bleak in appearance. The school had shut the floor down long before I even started to attend, seeing as they had built the library and extra class rooms on the lower floor. When the new section of the building was built it would have been with the times, shiny and new, but now it just looks like a deteriorated 60s school set.

You would think that teenagers would be up here constantly, either smoking something illegal or screwing like bunnies, but the larger portion of forks high were good, well rounded students who came to school, got no less then straight Bs, ate their home made lunch's in the supervised cafeteria and went home to complete their homework. The ones who weren't so well behaved seemed to rather go off campus to get their kicks, not too worried about failing due to being absent in all their classes.

I would of left with them too if I had some one to leave with, or didn't dread going home. But up here was my escape. The old library was covered in dust and still had stacks of old books in the remaining shelves. It was the sort of room you didn't want to touch, it had the quality of another world and place. A world from so long ago. Forks high was over 100 years old. That fact brought me a lot of happiness, thinking of the people who must have been here in the early 1900's, so ignorant to the way things were heading for everyone and everything, it seems like an easier life.

I went and sat down on the floor in the centre of the room and took my book out of my brown satchel. I would have loved to take one of the books off the shelves, felt the old and worn pages and read the rich text, but it felt like a sin to disturb the dust that had been settled there for such a long time.

I sat and read the story I had so many times before with just the slight light streaming through the dilapidated cotton curtains that hung sadly from their hoists. i started to roll a strong cigarette to relieve the anxiety resting in my chest, and pondered the fact that this is always the best part of my day. I felt so lucky to have found this place, this little corner of forks that gave me peace of mind, an escape. But I still had that niggling thought in the back of my mind, that thought and knowledge that there had to be more than this. There should be more than this for a 17 year old. This shouldn't be the highlight, the fact it was only went to show how desolate everything else must be.