Midnight masked the house in an inevitable shade of dark.
      Near the horizon, it was purple, near the top, it was a deep dark blue that for some unknown reason, reminded her of the depths that the Titanic layed in. But all was dark. A neverending scheme of dark that hid the light and burned itself.
      A new disc turned in her CD player, the odd bass line radiating and echoing in her ears. She puzzled over the transition from hidden darkness to your average pop song.
       Runaway Run.
      Hera puzzled over this for a moment before stopping the CD and putting it back in it's case.
      She studied the guys that were shown. Hanson.
      For some unexplainable reason, she pitied them. And saw through the smiles that were posed for the sale of the magazine or their albums.
      She saw a forced silence and secrets that weighed down on them all.
       She slipped the case into the front pocket of her black backpack before opening the door to her closet and taking a seat on the floor.
      This was her sanctuary. Her place to think.
      Whenever she was upset or needed some time to herself, she turned to the oak closet that sat in the middle of her right wall.
      A rainbow bulb from Claire's gave the small space a technicolor appearance.
      And it was soothing in a weird way and allowed her mind to focus easily and let her thoughts flow clear as water.
      She rested her tired head on the back wall and let the rainbow light take its course on her brain.
      It was the storm.
      She pondered every aspect endlessly. Envisioning herself as quiet yet obvious as a raindrop, or as loud and yet hidden as thunder. Or like lightning, a bright flash of light that entrances but warns you to stay back.
      Soon she grew tired and shut her eyes against the soft multi-colored light.