Prolouge

 

The last thing that Delilah Adams enjoyed was the feeling of waking up long before her body wanted her too.  Every morning her mother would trudge up the steps in her knee length blue terrycloth robe, carrying her chipped coffee mug, demanding that Delilah wake up.  She would repeat 'Get up' over and over again, louder and louder with each step up the stairs until, she was at full vocal volume and had reached Delilah's room.  At this point, her mother would flash the lights on and off about four times until Delilah stirred, and managed to choke out a small resentful groan.  Once her mother had stumbled her way back downstairs, Delilah would burrow lower into her cocoon of blankets for a few more moments.  She knew her actions wouldn't be well received by her mother, but the extra few stolen moments of comfort and warmth were well worth the fuss.  This morning was different though.  When her internal clock woke her up, she began to listen for the all too familiar sounds of her mother thumping up the stairs, but it never reached her ears.  Instead, she heard nothing; not the sound of clanking pots as her mother made her morning coffee, not the sound of enraged ranting about being late if she didn't get herself out of bed, absolutely nothing.  She quite was sure that her mother hadn't called her already; she figured it was earlier than she believed and then snuggled back down into her warm bed, drifting back into a light sleep.  After a few moments, she woke again in a panic, by what, she didn't know, but she groped for the alarm clock beside her.  The florescent green numbers flashed 8:30.  The time she would usually be getting ready to leave for school.  She put the clock back on top of a stack of books she had read that served as a nightstand. She couldn't believe it.  She sprang out of bed and flew into the shower.  She was going to be late, there was no doubt of that - but why hadn't her mom called her?