A burst of static tore eight year old Lily Loud from her sleep. She shot upright immediately, her eyes straining from the light of the TV as she frantically scoured the couch for the remote. She found it under her pillow. Swinging it to the screen, she hit mute.

Now fully awake – incidents like that made sure she wouldn't be returning to sleep anytime soon – she swung her legs forward, hanging them from the front of the large couch. Sighing and dragging her hand across her face, she tried to adjust to the brightened room, a far cry from the darkness out the window.

Wait, what time was it? Late o'clock or something. Whatever. She immediately realized she didn't care, her desire for an answer gone as quickly as the question itself appeared.

A quick look around, finding herself in the living room, she came to the realization that she fell asleep on the couch.

Again.

Because of course she did. Like it was a surprise. In fact, it was becoming an increasingly common occurrence. The living room may as well have been her new bedroom. She had no qualms with that thought. She'd rather be downstairs. After all, her parents were close by. It was better that way. And safer.

A shiver ran through her. She suddenly needed to use the bathroom.

Pushing her covers to the side, Lily exhaled and dropped to the floor. The clean carpet – vacuumed the day before – was soft and warm between her toes. The same couldn't be said for the creaky, old stairs. Her parents never seemed to want to fix them up. Just a little something, like some carpet. It'd make them nicer. Could maybe prevent the splinters they each inevitably got...

Reaching the top, Lily steeled herself, staring at the door in front of her. While thankful that the door was closed, the thought alone didn't help her relax any.

She hated upstairs. Five bedrooms, four of which were wasted, used for nothing, not even storage. Empty space. That alone was enough reason for her to hate them. Why her parents insisted on staying in such a huge house when it was just the three of them was a mystery. With the constant need for repairs, it hardly seemed worth it.

But she had other reasons for hating the second floor.

Lily looked around nervously, finding that the rest of the doors remained closed as well. Sweating, her heart beating at a frantic pace, she moved about the hall, checking the handles and finding them all locked. That let her breathe a little easier. It was paramount that the doors stayed like that. It kept the voices away. When she started to hear the voices, that meant she had to take the pills.

She hated hearing the voices. She hated the pills even more.

She sped to the bathroom, closing the door as quickly and quietly as she could.

Turning the light on, she stood before the mirror, getting a good look at herself. She was a mess. Her lavender T-shirt was a wrinkled, sweat-stained mess. Her chin-length, platinum blonde hair stuck to one side of the face and splayed out in all directions on the other. Pale, oily skin shone in the light, contrasted by the dark bags under her eyes. And now, in a closed space, she noticed she smelled.

She almost looked sick. That's what people said about her, wasn't it? She was 'sick'?

A promise she made all the time: she'd go outside some day soon. Of her own free will. Get some sunlight, fresh air, a little exercise. She told that to herself, her parents, her... friends.

What a joke.

It was always a 'maybe', though. But she'd have to, right? It was inevitable, after all. Doctors appointments and all that.

Another sigh. Fixing her hair to something presentable, she splashed some water in her face, if only to clear away the grease.

Quickly doing her business, she washed her hands and stepped back out, making sure to turn the bathroom light off. She might get it into her head that it came on 'by itself', as they put it. Or she'd get a gentle lecture from Dad about leaving lights on. Neither was particularly pleasant.

Lily had only passed the first set of doors on her return trip down when she came to a complete stop, her feet anchored in place, her veins running cold. In her drowsy state, she forgot about checking the linen closet at the end of the hall, the one place in all the house she hated the most.

A light shone from under the door. She could explain that away. Immediately a number of reasons came to her. But what she couldn't explain away was the shadow moving across the floor. Was there someone in there? No, there couldn't be. With the shelves – filled, no less – there was hardly any room for a person. If she listened carefully enough, she could hear footsteps.

She didn't like to listen to anything carefully when it came to the upstairs.

She shook her head, clenching her eyes shut. No. There was no light. She was imagining it. A hallucination of her sleep addled mind. Actually, she was still asleep, on the couch, right now, dreaming. Yeah.

...

God, she hoped she didn't wet the bed again. That was another talk she didn't want.

Lily willed one foot forward.

Creaking. From behind her. The room on her right.

A knot caught in her throat, her mind screaming at her to ignore it and return to the living room.

Looking over her shoulder, her eyes wide, she found, what was locked and sealed moments before, was now cracked open. The smell of a floral perfume eased it's way out, familiar in that she only smelled it from that room.

She focused ahead again, her eyes sticking to the light under the door.

Another creak, now to her left. The soft sound of an acoustic guitar. She didn't even think either of her parents owned a guitar.

She hated the upstairs.

The other two doors along that wall followed suit. There was a thumping sound from the room at the top of the stairs, like a ball hitting the wall, and what sounded like the croaking of a frog from the one next to that.

Her body straight and shaking, her breathing ragged, Lily stomped on, ready to rush back to the couch, cover herself in her blanket, bask in the light of the non-channel the TV was tuned in to until the dawn came. In the end, she would wake up to find it was all a dream.

Reaching the stairs seemed to trigger another loud creak. The door to the linen closet swung open, slowly and smoothly. A silhouette stood in the doorway. Man? Woman? Boy? Girl? Old? Young? She couldn't tell a thing about the figure, their features obscured by the blinding light.

But she could tell that they extended a hand out to her.

Then they spoke.

"Lily."

Lily hated the upstairs.

Lily hated their house.

Lily hated her life.

What followed would remain a mystery. The next thing Lily remembered was the light of day, shining in her eyes between the leaves of one of the plants in the dining room. Her shorts felt cold and wet. Dad stood on one side, Mom knelt on her other, trying to coerce the kitchen knife from her tight grip. Lily looked around in confusion before noticing the utensil in her hand.

Honestly, with the way she was holding it, it was a weapon.

But she didn't want to be honest.

She let it drop, it's surface reflecting the sun as it hit the carpet. It happened. It happened again. Lily couldn't control it and she let it happen again. Only this time, her parents caught her during. The dread in her chest finally worked it's way free and she started to cry, hugging herself. Mom wrapped her arms around Lily's small shoulders, her own tears soaking the back of her shirt. Dad put the knife on the table a safe distance away and, a few seconds later, joined them.

Her parents tried to carry on the morning like nothing happened. Breakfast was the usual for a Saturday. Eggs, bacon, pancakes, orange juice. The only thing different was the small, plastic container next to her glass holding medicine. It held a blue pill, two white tablets, and a yellow capsule. Lily recognized the sequence.

She hated her pills.

Lily stole glances at her parents out of the corner of her eye. They looked at her expectantly, with a hint of concern. Usually, they left her well enough alone, believing her mature and responsible enough to handle the medication on her own. She knew because they told her as much. More often than not, Lily felt fine, and didn't see a need for them all that much anymore. A dose here and there was okay, yeah, but otherwise...

But that privilege – and the trust behind it – was gone now.

Her thoughts went back to her late night bathroom run. Did that even happen? Maybe, maybe not, but the memories remained, and the words of her doctors joined them. She, and everyone else, knew it.

All that was left was to admit it to herself.

Taking the pills in hand, she threw them in her mouth. The glass of juice washed them down her throat.

She sighed, setting her glass back on the table, her eyes closed. The room seemed to breathe in relief with her.