I lay awake again, skin burning even though it's January...no, it's after midnight, it's February now. After midnight, and I'm awake again.
I can't sleep with all the screaming. You see, there are always people screaming, screaming behind the walls. They are pounding, pounding furiously and their screams are frenzied; something is wrong again. I've told my mother again and again about them, but she just shrugs them off: "There are no people screaming behind your walls, Jennie. I would hear them." Which is true, she should be able to hear them, our house's interior walls are made of plaster. Anything I can hear, she should be able to hear.
Besides, I have a corner room. There is no room behind my bedroom wall. But people scream behind it just the same. Sometimes they don't.