Taylor opened her eyes and sighed. She couldn't bring herself to sleep. Lazily rolling her head to the side, she glanced at the digital clock on the wall. It was 1:34 AM.
It's 1:30 in the morning. What am I still doing up? I have to be able to sleep sometime, she thought. But she couldn't sleep. The noise of a storm brewing outside kept her up, growing with the pain she felt in her heart.
On the island, she'd been okay. She didn't really have to do anything, and she was surrounded by people that really cared for her. She cared for them as well. On the island, she could be this innocent ditz. They didn't have to know the real Taylor.
The thunder boomed, signaling that the storm was nearing. Taylor groaned as she slowly rose into a position sitting on her bed. She reached her hand to pull the cord which activated her ceiling fan. The air came down on her like a harsh reality.
She didn't really know how to feel when the rescuers finally dropped her off at her fancy, stereotypical rich-house. Anyone would think that being in the civilized world was much preferred over being stuck on a distant, unknown island, fighting to survive. But Taylor's civilized world was no paradise. She just knew that behind the closed front doors would be her over obsessive mom, not wanting the slightest speck of dust to land on poor Taylor and give her a horrible flesh-eating disease. Her mother had always been overly protective of Taylor, not letting her go to the movies on Friday night, not letting any boys in the house, not letting Taylor wear any clothing two days in a row to prevent humiliation, the list went on and on. It made her want to scream.
The thunder pounded again, shaking the house. Taylor could hear her perfume bottles rattle on the wooden cabinet. She broke out in a cold sweat.
I don't have to listen to this, she thought. She pulled on the fan cord again, increasing the speed and loudness of the fan. She sighed with relief.
It was nice, though, for her to see them all back at school the next day. She had a special connection with Eric, and Mel, and Jackson, and Daley, all of her friends. Sharing an experience like the one on the island really connects people, and Taylor most of all wanted to keep the connection. She'd never really felt like she fit in anywhere in school. She was good looking, but she wasn't skinny enough to be a cheerleader. She was popular, but apparently not enough to get any of the guys she'd focused on. She was pretty good at volleyball, but she wasn't snobby enough to fit in with the others on the team. Taylor had given up on trying to fit in.
The thunder boomed again, rattling all of Taylor's possessions even harder than before. No, she thought, I won't hear it. She pulled on the cord again, and the fan grew even louder.
I don't have to think about all the people who left me out, she thought. I don't have to think about all the people who really hurt me. Taylor was used to pain. She'd often trip on a shoe she'd haphazardly thrown on the floor, or bump into another person in the hallway while talking to someone. But emotional pain was deeper than any debilitating cut. Taylor could never grow callous to the harsh words she'd heard behind her back, to the cold rejection she'd received from at least three crushes of hers, to the disappointed yells at her failures. She'd been yelled at on the island, too. The day Daley decided to call her out on her laziness, aloud and on camera, had been the worst day.
The thunder shook the house again, causing Taylor to gasp. It's okay, she thought, I don't have to be afraid. Taylor was still afraid. She'd lost many of the things she thought were important to her- her sense of friendship with several peers, the occasional day she'd get to see her father…
Her father was such a loving man, always wanting to do what Taylor wanted, always wanting what was best for her. Taylor could remember, way back in first grade, when she'd taken second in her school talent show.
"Second must be some kind of code for first, because you're the best darned dancer anyone in the world has ever seen," he said.
"Really, Daddy? What about that boy on the piano?" Taylor asked.
"Piano? Nobody can take a piano with them! He'll lose his finger strength one day, but you'll always be able to dance," he said.
"Always?" she said.
"Forever and ever."
Taylor's dad had grown tired of her mom, and eventually disappeared. The only 'goodbye' he left her was a small strip of paper. Taylor could still remember reading it at age 10. '924-1303' was all her dad had written. Taylor begged her mother to buy her a cell phone, but her mother did not think she needed one for a million years. Taylor didn't get to call the number until one night, a year later, when her mother was away on a business trip. The number was to a cell phone, and Taylor just knew it was her dad's. It was off when she'd called, but she planned on leaving a voicemail. Her dad's cell phone didn't have a voicemail function.
Taylor would call her dad every chance she got, but he rarely answered it. Taylor remembered the very first time he'd picked up, back when she was 13.
"Hello?" he said.
"Daddy? Is that you?" she asked.
"Taylor," he said.
"Daddy, why aren't you here? Where did you go?" she asked.
"Taylor, I know what I did was extreme, but you've got to understand. I can't come back home. Your mother wouldn't let me in if I came back," he said.
"Of course she would! I won't let her kick you out! I need you, Daddy!" she said. Tears were forming in her eyes.
"I love you so much, and I'm so sorry I left. But, honey, I have to go. Goodbye," he said.
"You can't…" Taylor said, before he hung up.
Taylor became reclusive, totally avoiding conversation with anyone. Some of her friends were concerned, but she didn't pay any attention to them. The thing that angered her most were the people that called her weird, the people that made fun of her for being sad. She just wanted to scream at them and pound their heads into the sidewalk. But Taylor kept her cool. She ignored them outwardly while they crushed her inside.
A crack of lightning lit up the sky, and Taylor jumped. It's time to stop this, she thought. I don't have to be afraid. I don't need this fan to hide behind my feelings. I don't need it to cover the noise of the storm inside. I don't need to block out the rattles of the thunder. Inhaling deeply, Taylor felt a little better about herself. She lay back down to try to sleep.
A few minutes later, Taylor sat up again. She pulled the fan cord again, setting it to 'High'.