A BIT OF PSYCHOLOGY?

I groaned as I stared at the tall fence in front of me, the house had been built as a gift for my mother on her thirty-seventh birthday. I could still recall that day as vividly as I could recall the events that followed.

Daniel had given my mother the house as a gift and that night was the night he died. He was found at the back of the house, laying on the ground, his body void of all the life it used to emit. The doctors claimed he had a cardiac arrest and it was a heart attack but to date, I refused to believe it. To believe it was just that and nothing more.

I looked around, it was late and I could barely see but it was clear that the moon was casually leaving the sky because it was morning already, yes, I had stayed up all night trying to figure out a way in.

This is not one of those cliché stories where the main character just dramatically finds a ladder from someone and gets in. Think people! Let's brainstorm.

I pulled out my phone. It looked worn out and was the only valuable thing I had left apart from my clothes. I scrolled through my contacts yet saw no one I could call. It was at moments like this I understood what it meant to truly be lonely.

I waved off the bad energy and turned on the flashlight. I grunted frustratedly when realized the phone was low. Such great luck I was born with, right?

As an Insomniac, I was sure staying up wouldn't hit a dent on the records I had kept year after year. Staying up all night researching random things I would not remember the next day or were not relevant to my daily life in any way.

I pointed my phone flashlight to the fence and then around the place, there had to be some way I could get in, anyway. I wasn't sure how I was going to reach my step-sister but I was sure I would have to jump the fence, I stared at the fence again and then the electric wires that sat on it, Nah. The idea didn't seem too exciting.

I rested on the wall struggling to accept defeat with my phone in one hand and the flyer in another, I found myself if this was worth it, even if I did manage to get into the house, how would I reach her room undetected and even if I reached her room, how sure was I that she would be willing to help and in the rare occasion that she did help, was one week enough to prepare for something as grand as a five thousand dollars audition? I kept wondering as I wallowed in my self-doubt.

It was then an idea struck me, one that would surely help me out. I would be able to get into the house with this or should I say, get someone out? you know the saying, if the Mohammed won't go to the mountain, then the mountain will have to come to Mohammed and in the rare occasion that the mountain cannot come, it can always call Mohammed, literally, right? what I am trying to say is that my master plan includes getting her out of the house, but how in the world was I going to do that at- I paused to glance at my watch, 4:00 am?

I looked down at my phone again. I didn't have their numbers anymore as I had decided to cut them off my lives a year ago after I had been thrown out, but that did not mean that I did not casually stalk them from time to time, during my 'Ehem' insomniac nights. I quickly turned off my phone flashlights as it was just minutes away from completely going off.

I turned on my mobile data and logged on to I*******m – it was high risk because the app ate a date for a living and could not exactly afford the luxury. But it was an investment, right? Then came a unique problem;

What was her username again? The last time I had stalked her was about two months ago, that was because of her newly released book 'CLOVER'.

Yes, my sister was a writer, she wasn't so well known but we live in a digital age where you know someone without knowing them through social media.

She had a large following and the last time I checked she had over 500,000 followers, that was months ago and I couldn't help but wonder; how do writers build that following in the end? I painted a lot, I never posted it though. As I said, I don't and may never see myself as a social media person, not just because I detested the false perfection people portrayed over there, plus, I was a lazy bum, I do not see myself leaving a 9-5 job to work 247 no matter how fun it may be and to crown it all, I was broke!

Let's face it, I didn't have the funds for that, I barely even had funds to survive. Okay, I had no funds to survive – but I would – soon, well, if this works out.

"Girl with glasses... girl in glasses....um girl glasses?" I muttered as I searched for a series of what I assumed should be her name. I became frustrated soon after but just as I was about to give up, another street light turned o -one I had not noticed, that wasn't the issue though.

The issue was the small poster on the wall, beside the house, how did I not notice? It looked exactly like the one I had seen earlier but instead, it featured a name I never thought I would see again 'RYE DAWN'

"Oh my gosh!" I openly gasped and then shushed myself, Rye was going to feature her book collection at the audition, it was a joint promotion, how did she land this? Whoa, she was eighteen, barely out of college I suppose and she was getting it all while I was here, a twenty-three-year-old medical graduate, pediatrician major, out on the streets with no other choice than to opt for some dancing audition.

My life was a joke. Literally.

I was about to yell in frustration when I noticed her details, her I*******m handle was there, boldly. "life of your fav author" Well, I was far from it. I quickly searched out her name on I*******m and sent her a text I knew would send her running straight out. I may not be the most hardworking person on planet earth, but if there was one thing, I was good at - it was maximizing psychology.

Moments after I sent the text, my phone went off, I wasn't too worried though, the deed had been done. There was no way she would not notice this message, because well, I wasn't a genius, but I guess I was good at what I did?