I woke up, startled by the sound of my alarm clock calling me back to reality. The reality of my everyday life that I despised so much, especially of late. The last couple of weeks had been the worst of my life.

I pulled the blanket over my head, deciding to stay under, in the peaceful quietude for a few more minutes. At least in my own bed, I didn't feel like a total, unwelcome stranger.

Then the alarm went on again, and peeking from under the covers, I saw as my mum stormed in my bedroom, switching it off with a puzzled, questioning, and a kind of startled look. She paused by my desk, sighing deeply and wiping a few tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. Then she walked out of the room without even looking in my direction.

I noticed how red and puffy her eyes were, her cheeks stained by tears. She had been crying again. Nothing new there, mum had spent the last year arguing constantly with my father, and even with me.

My dad had lost his job and started drinking, driving her mad. He would come home only when he spent all the money he managed to borrow from others like him. Instead of trying to find a new job, he spent his days in a vain attempt to drown his unhappiness and despair in alcohol.

I knew I wasn't much of a help either, but I couldn't help it. I hated hearing them arguing, and so I spent hours and sometimes days out of the house, just not to hear them. There were days when I would only come home to eat and sleep, avoiding talking to either of them. Some days I wouldn't even turn up at school, I just couldn't stand my friends' and teachers' questions about my family. They all knew too much.

I prefered to hide-- my life was not a public matter. My own parents didn't care about my feelings, so why should anyone else?

Now mum was so upset about my behaviour that she hadn't spoken to me since that night, more than a week ago, when I ran off, unable to listen to them anymore. I stayed away from home for a couple of nights, hiding in a park and in a closed subway station with some homeless people, hoping to scare my parents. To teach them a lesson.

If they couldn't stand each other anymore, why didn't they divorce? Why did they have to drag me in their hell of screaming and arguments? In this senseless, useless war that none of them could win? I was only sixteen, but thanks to them, I had already lost any ideal of a happy, married life.

When I came home after those two days, I hoped they would understand, hug and forgive me, and finally stop fighting. I longed for my father's kind words, my mum's gentle and loving caress. Just like when I was small and they were still happy.

I was so wrong.

When I got home, they didn't even talk to me or look at me properly. They seemed to look right through me, ignoring me completely. It was the worst kind of punishment. Even their shouting would be better than this cold, careless behaviour.

I never really liked school much but now I would love to go there, to speak to my only close friend. To anybody, really. I had enough of the silence, I was starting to feel invisible!

But I had no such luck. It was a summer holiday, and my best friend was abroad. When I tried to call him, he never picked up. Maybe he was offended. Maybe I should have told him about my runaway plan, but I just didn't want him to end up in trouble if someone found out that he knew... He must be mad at me. Angry. Maybe he would never speak to me again.

Finally, I got out of bed.
My parents were arguing downstairs, and I could hear their heated conversation reverberating through the whole house, filling my head. I wished to scream too, I couldn't stand it any longer.

Walking towards the bathroom, I heard the sound of the front door being shut. My father left for the day. He would be back, drunk, after sunset.

Mum came running up the stairs and disappeared into her bedroom. She looked so... desperate.

"Mum," I said gently, following her, begging for her attention.

Of course, she didn't respond. When I entered her room, she was lying on her bed, sobbing. I wanted to reassure her, tell her that everything would be all right, touch her... But when I came closer she just shivered, looking away from me.

Why is she like that, I thought, aren't the parents supposed to forgive their children?

Turning away, I caught my reflection in the mirror. It looked kind of faded, I could nearly see through myself. I walked closer, wanting to clean the mirror, believing it was smeared and dusty. Wanting to get a better look at myself.

Then I saw them.

A messy pile of newspaper and magazine cut-outs, all the articles bearing the same title-- Missing.

The bits and pieces of confused information started to spin in front of my eyes. A local teenage boy... left and never came back home... desperate parents... Missing.....

I looked at my mother, who was still crying on the bed, unable to see me. Then, I looked back at my fading mirror image.

Shivers ran down my spine.

What was happening here?