The daily struggles of an average mediator individual on a daily basis were weighing heavy on her. The usual ones were the common self degradations like,

"I'm weird,"

"I'm awkward,"

"Nobody likes me,"

And the quirkiest one was,

"My hair is too weird."

As much as... people would agree that her hair was unique, there was no need for a person to feel insecure about such long and beautiful black hair with naturally golden ends. On that note, she did have the mediator personality rooted deep into her veins.

But the ones that really stuck went along the lines of,

"I'm losing my mind too often,"

"I can't draw anymore,"

"I can't sing,"

"I can't narrate anymore,"

"I'm losing my talents."

All of these. These were all the poisonous personal snakes she along with others with her personality carried deep in their cores.

Her core was most certainly full of these venomous thoughts as she lay awake and wide-eyed in the dark of her room.

She was wearing her blue onesie, sitting on top of her bed in the bedroom, her knees pulled up to her chest, even as she was asleep, her journal tucked into her undies inside the pajama. The average introverted meltdown had happened three hours before. She was trying so hard to fall asleep just a few hours after midnight.

The whole house was quiet. The hallways were dark and dejected. Shadows clung to the walls and the ceiling made a low, humming sound despite the absence of wind. The lights were off; Ms. Montgomery wanted to conserve as much power as she could. But then again, it was common sense to turn off the lights at night. Brooklyn knew better than to waste power unnecessarily.

"This would be the perfect moment to hold my boyfriend's hand," she thought, peering outside the room. "Oh, right. I don't have a boyfriend." She sighed and balled her hands into fists at her sides, keeping her sights forward.

Her footsteps were light, quiet and controlled, just like her breathing. The humidity was almost suffocating. The heat was rioting. The weather was rioting. As long as she remembered – so she was told – the climate around the world was going awry. Temperatures were cruel and rain was scarcer than gold. Snow was plenty and sleet often graced New York. But it did nothing to combat the dramatic heat during the summer. It was nights like these April wished the San Adele shelter was situated perhaps on the beach. But it just had to be right in the center of Brooklyn.

The nights were long and the days were longer.

She saw what appeared to be a door and bit on her lower lip. She had no need to get excited though. It might as well have been just her mind picturing the door in front of her just to give her closure.

"No pun intended." She thought, licking her lips in anticipation. She pushed the door open and just as the rest of the house, the kitchen was dark.

She groped her way to the cabinets and even groped inside for the glass. She found it and carefully walked to the sink and filled it up with cool faucet water. The thirst she needed to quench was fueled by the heat that was reaching a fever pitch.

"Boy, water," she thought, feeling the water rush down her gullet like a nurishment she so needed. "Oh, that's the stuff."

She made her way back to the cabinet again and put the glass cup inside. Just for her to pause and look at it with wide, puzzled eyes.

"What the…"

She tried to pull her hand out of the cabinet but something had a hold of her wrist. She pulled harder and in kind, something tightened around her wrist, something cold and very strong.

"Hey…!"

She panted, her heartbeat quickening. She tried to fight it.

"It's all in your head, it's all in your head, it's all in your head!"

She chanted, trying to remain calm despite her growing terror.

"You're just in my head so stop holding me!"

She whimpered, and the force supposedly stopped pulling at her hand. She inhaled sharply, trembling from head to toe.

"It was… just in my head."

She swallowed hard and slowly pulled her hand out of the cabinet. Nothing was holding onto it. She grasped onto her wrist and inhaled sharply again, looking at the open cabinet with wide eyes of fear and apprehension. There couldn't have possibly been something in there that was holding her for real…

Right...?

Trying but failing to control her rapid heartbeat, she muttered:

"It was all in my head… Okay…"

She swallowed and inhaled a couple of times.

"Okay, okay, okay. Okay. There's nothing in the cabinet. There's nothing… in the…"

She inched closer to it, squinting her eyes to take a better look despite the absence of light.

She should have been running. It was not every day that cabinets suddenly grabbed her wrists and she would stay put. But for some reason, be it curiosity or plain stupidity, she saw herself inching closer to the cabinet, telling herself she was dreaming.

"It's all in your head, April. Everything always is."

She stood on her tippy toes and peeked inside the cabinets. There were nothing but silhouettes of cups, pots, teapots and plates.

That was normal.

"Okay—"

The hand shot out of the cabinet and cold fingers wiped down her face. She went cold bodily and screamed out in terror. Her hand slapped the cabinet closed and she turned around and ran to where she presumed the door was.

That was real. She felt those cold fingertips on her face. They were real!

She just reached the door and suddenly collided with a body. Hands gripped her elbows and she cried out like she was dying.

The lights turned on and she tried to wriggle free to no avail.

"Hey! Stop it. It's just me."

The boy held onto her tightly.

April opened her eyes through her hysterical screams and looked up to see a tall, Asian boy holding her and frowning down at her.

Still holding her in place as she stopped screaming, he asked:

"What is wrong with you? It's just a little darkness."

She stammered, trembled, her hands holding onto him as well:

"Hi-Hiroko. You… what are you doing here?"

He looked at her fingers digging into his arms.

"I went to the bathroom and when I went back to bed I heard you whimpering in the kitchen. Are you okay?"

April blinked and she remembered.

"The cabinet. There's a monster in the cabinet!"

She shook him urgently.

Now, April was a little too old to be talking about monsters. Hiroko gave a suspecting eye as she looked up at him all sweating and panicked.

The two had run into each other a lot in their daily lives in Ms. Montgomery's shelter for the unfortunate children, San Adele, but they had never interacted. April because she had a way of distancing herself from people quietly while Hiroko, because he had never quite invested that much attention on her. So he did not really know what she was like.

At that moment, he looked like he wished he had not come into the kitchen at all.

April saw the look of doubt in his eyes and how he looked at her like she was crazy. Her grip on his biceps getting tighter, she insisted:

"I-I'm telling the truth. There-There's something in that cabinet. It grazed my face and grabbed my wrist."

Hiroko took in a breath. He was wearing purple pajamas, mauve pants and a dusty purple top. He had sharp, brown eyes and a headful of black hair that covered his forehead and ears, his jaws sharp. He looked older than his age and his good looks were honest.

April herself was sporting a royal blue onesie with white outlines of gamepads, black slippers on her feet. She looked like a rare breed with that headful of buttock-low, wavy, gold highlighted hair, her brown skin flawless and eyes an emerald green. She looked younger than she was. And whether a person saw her as an aloof loner or a rare creature, she was good-looking either way.

Hiroko tried to remove her hands off his arms, gently telling her:

"April, I think you're a little beyond monster talk."

April's eyes widened at his implications and her nails sunk into his arms.

"Hey, I'm not crazy. I know what I saw!"

Hiroko winced.

"Ms., your talons are digging into my flesh."

April looked at her hands and realized what a grip she had on him.

"S-sorry."

She let go of his arms and he sighed in response and stared down at her. She added:

"If you don't believe me, go check it yourself. I'm not lying."

Hiroko squinted at her but as she continued insisting, he exhaled in exasperation and gave in.

"Okay. Fine!"

He marched to the cabinet.

April stood where she was and watched with wide eyes as the tall boy held the cabinet and jerked it open. He looked inside and saw nothing. He sighed and muttered:

"Why did I even bother?"

April was confused. Desperation gripped at her.

"It was in there!"

"And what was?"

Hiroko tilted his head at her.

April panted in frustration.

"The thing! I felt it on my face, it touched my hand!"

She raised the supposed hand, to which Hiroko accused, shutting the cabinet door and facing her:

"You imagined it."

April kept insisting, even though she knew it was useless and Hiroko was not going to believe her.

"I'm not, I didn't. I swear. It really touched me."

Hiroko came and stopped in front of her. He huffed:

"Girl, it was just in your head."

He pushed her hand down and frowned.

April hung her head in defeat as he lowered her hand.

"But I swear…" Her voice faltered and fell silent. She had lost this one. "I'd never lie…"

Hiroko ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Maybe he was being a little harsh. He noticed how red and puffy her eyes were and realized she must have gone through something deep earlier.

"April, it was just the heat messing with you." He gently told her. "There is nothing in the cabinet."

April refused to believe his words. "I felt it." She whispered.

Hiroko sighed incredulously.

"You're so weird."

He walked past her and walked out the door, leaving her standing there.

April stood, soaking in his words and the experience. Feeling sorry that Hiroko called her weird more than that he didn't believe something grabbed her face, she mumbled:

"I'm not crazy."

"Then go to bed!" Hiroko's voice scolded behind her and she jumped, startled.