It was late, maybe nine or ten at night. The sky was filled stars, and the moon was hidden behind a large cloud. My bedroom was the only place I wanted to be in, but in the bed itself was out of the question. I sat on the seat by the window, staring out at the night sky. I heard the wailing of police sirens from the city below.
The window was open and there was a light breeze. My window was overlooking the city of New York, the place I had almost always called home. I could have never imagined a better place than New York; the only place I longed to live more was Scotland, where my parents had lived before moving to New York.
There was a knock on the door. "Bed time, darling," my mother said, poking her head into the room.
"Mum," I replied, "I'm twenty-one. I think I can go to bed whenever I want to." I realized I had more of a Scottish accent than my mother, and she had lived in Scotland from her birth until six years after my birth.
"You live under my roof, so you'll obey my rules. Do you understand?"
I nodded. "Good night, Mum."As my mother left the room, I closed the window and the blinds. I was ready for sleep anyways, but I decided to just close my eyes and dream a bit. Sleep came quickly. Occasionally I would hear a noise, which I believed was my cat scratching on the door or my parents walking around.
I fell asleep with the darkness creeping in slowly but inescapably.