I throw my phone on the couch cushions and groan up at the ceiling. Things seemed to be going so well with Seth, and I think they still would be, but I haven't seen him in nearly two days. It's making me crazy. He mentioned a day or so ago that he was settling a deal and he wouldn't have much free time. He wasn't kidding. It's like, ever since Seth kissed me, our days are not aligning. We can't seem to find time for each other and it's frustrating. What's even more frustrating is this need I have to corner him and demand that we actually talk for once in our lives.

Sure, the tree climb was amazing, and I truly felt that he was trying to convey some kind of emotion to me, but enough is enough. It's time that we talk before I combust. I can promise that having Mercy innards splattered all over the walls of our home will not be worth it.

I fling myself down on the couch, successfully lodging my cell phone into my ribs and eliciting a muffled yelp from my tight lips. I'm so mad. I just want to yell my anger from the rooftops... which triggers an idea.

I hop up from my supine position and jump to my feet as I scramble for my phone. I give Shon a call, but apparently she's got a family dinner to attend. Lame. Yet again, frustrated, I heave a sigh and then force a smile onto my lips. My mom once taught me that sometimes forcing happiness into your appearance can trigger it in your heart.

Welp, it doesn't. I'm still mad, and now I also look crazy because I'm smiling to myself with rage blasting from my eyes. Not a safe combination. It's a look that could get me thrown into a looney bin. I best remain home in this state.

I guess I'm going solo again tonight. Gosh, what happened to all my friends? When did I turn into this sad little pony of a person? Actually... I'm not sure what that means. Rephrase. When did I turn into a loser? I need people, but all the people I love are preoccupied with their own lives... or gone.

Not willing to let my emotions tear me down, I pull on a pair of toe shoes and scamper out of the house. Freedom is raging inside my veins and it needs a release. The best option—which is also the most stupid one—is to let that freedom out right here and now.

The sky is dark, a scattering of stars glinting past the haze of lights that glow throughout our little town. There are days when I'd love to live in a place like Jackson lives—out in the wild where city and town life can't touch you. Nature can boast the way it's meant to. I've always felt that things are more real in nature. Greens are greener, sunsets more vibrant, animals more wild, and smells more fresh. We town-dwellers are missing out on the true beauties.

Taking one last glance at the peaceful night, I turn my gaze toward my own home. All the lights are off. To anyone looking at the house, it would appear that nobody is home—well, apart from my car parked smack-dab in the middle of the driveway. That was my way of rebelling against Seth. If he can't get home and spend some quality time with me, then he can forget about parking in the driveway too.

I inspect the structure of my house. Seems sturdy enough. Besides, last fall Seth was on the roof cleaning leaves from the gutters. So, if it can hold his weight, then it will most certainly hold mine. Feeling like a complete rebel—and loving it—I shimmy out of my jacket and fling it onto the grass. I flex my toes, feeling small rocks pinch against my skin with the movement. With a pointless nod to myself, I'm ready to rock and roll.

I grab onto the ledge of a window, and pull myself up with more ease than I'd expected. Guess I haven't lost all my strength just yet—which reminds me, I need to get into the gym again before muscles wither. I'd hate to have to start back at zero. Sometimes I feel like my body is an ungrateful friend. I work and work, but I never reach a point where I can just sit back, relax, and trust that it won't abandon me. The moment I stop eating right or working out, my body gives up on me and suddenly I'm just this lonely, lumpy person sitting in a pile of empty pizza boxes.

Don't worry, that's never actually happened... except maybe twice.

I have no problem scaling the side of my home, but when I get to the overhang of the roof, things get tricky. I've got a pretty secure hold on the gutter, and I was even smart enough to give it a few good tugs to make sure my bodyweight wouldn't rip it off, but now I'm stuck. I don't have the faintest idea how to drag a hundred and thirty-two pounds of body over the edge.

I release from the gutter and glance at my options. When I spot the small frame around the windowsill, my chest spikes with joy. There is hope. I grind my toes into the small ledge that the frame creates and, with a firm grip on the gutter, pull myself up and over the lip of my home.

I've got half my body up while the other half dangles in midair. It's then that panic begins to flood my system. I could very possibly be stuck here until two in the morning—when Seth predicted he might get home. It's currently no later than seven-thirty.

I'm gonna be here awhile.

So, not willing to miss an opportunity, I force my body to relax as I glance around at the scenery. To my left, I can see my neighbor's back porch. Whoop-die-doo. And to my right, I can see the very edge of my neighbors roof. Thankfully, the only thing behind me is my own yard and a few privacy trees, so I'm safe from butt-oglers.

With a burst of fiery passion, I let the screams rip through my chest.

"I-I-I-I'm m-mad!" I bellow, my single voice reverberating off the homes that line the street. There's a stillness in the air tonight that I just demolished. It's a good feeling. To be the one creating change is empowering. I'm betting no one was expecting such noises on such a calm night, and I'm glad to be the one offering a break in their predictable lives. But, most likely, they aren't feeling a desire to thank me for my squawks and screams.

"I'm angry!" I yell out even louder, noticing a sudden glow from a nearby house. Though I can't see exactly where it's coming from, I'm assuming it's a neighbor flicking on their outside lights.

I should have realized that it was a warning. I should have dropped to the ground and suffered the consequences of a nasty landing right then, but I didn't. Instead, I continued on yelling out my frustrations into the neighborhood, hoping that one kind soul would respond in likeness.

Well, long story short, nobody joined me in my song of madness. Instead, they just bellowed out a rude 'Shut up' before making a silent phone call. They barely gave me a chance to stop before they'd alerted authorities, and due to the fact that my eyes were closed as I released all my irritation into the night, I almost didn't catch the red and blue lights swirling down the streets.

I've never dropped so fast in my life. I barely even felt the shock of pain up my calves as I landed on the hard ground. Feeling risky, I make a run for it. The cop is still in his car at this point, making his way up the road. I have plenty of time. So, with the agility of a hippo, I fling myself over my fence and into a gutter.

Gosh, dang, it hurts.

I've never sprained an ankle until this moment, but man, I'd almost give myself up willingly if it meant never feeling such pain again. I probably sit here moaning into the night for a good twenty minutes. Stubborn tears rim my eyes but refuse to fall. It's about this time that I realize that I am one stupid Mother Lover. Where was that little warning in my brain that's supposed to alert me to bad ideas?

Oh, right. I'm Mercy Vans. I don't have one... Which is why it's horribly dangerous for me to be alone... ever!

Thankfully, my little incident turned out to be a blessing. I saw the cop turn down the opposite street—the street I probably would have been meandering down had I not nearly broken my body. So, thank you, dear ankle, for giving out on me and nearly ending my dream to one day be a professional walker.

I hobble up from the ditch that I've been cowering in and make the shameful limp back to my home. The neighbors have flicked off their outside lights, and I can only hope and pray that they're not spying on me as my gimpy self falters my way back home.

I get inside the door—finally—and instantly feel that same dissatisfaction rise within me again. That just wasn't enough. Belting my anger to the neighborhood wasn't enough. I plop down on the couch, removing my shoes so I can get a glimpse of my swollen ankle. There is a puffy spot of redness just around the ankle bone, but no visible bruising. Dang. With pain like this, I should at least have a battle wound.

Putting to rest any foolish ideas of egging the neighbor's house, or streaking through their front yard, I put my mind to work creating a better plan. It doesn't take long, and what surprises me even more is the fact that it has nothing to do with revenge whatsoever. Count yourself blessed tonight, Mr. Neighbor. It's usually in my nature to destroy the fun-suckers of this world, but you've been spared... for now.

Limping my way into the shed, I pull some leftover jugs of paint from the storage closet and fight to wipe the evil smile from my face. Firstly, I'm not evil, and secondly, this plan isn't evil. There's no reason for me to be smiling so wickedly, but I just can't help myself. I feel like I'm being naughty, and it's making me excited.

Grabbing a heaping bundle of newspapers, I trek back into the house and begin shoving furniture into the center of the living room. Then I get busy taping newspaper to said furniture and laying it out all over the wood floors. By the time I'm done—nearly two hours later—the entire living room is a newspaper paradise.

Uncapping the paint, I pour a generous amount into a small bucket and dip my brush inside. Without wiping the edges of the brush on the rim of the bucket to remove any excess paint, I begin flicking paint over every square inch of wall.

I've honestly wanted to do this since the age of two—when I stopped getting away with flinging my food around the dining room floor. I'll have to convince Seth to enjoy a good old-fashioned food fight with me at some point in my life, but for now, launching paint across my walls is the next best thing.

For those who are searching for joy and can't find it... this is it. I've never felt so fulfilled than in this moment. I'd almost be willing to start belting out in song, but I'm positive that would get the cops called on me this time, and I'd have a hard time fleeing with a damaged limb. Besides, there's no doubt I'm home this time—fresh paint is a pretty big giveaway. I'm pretty sure the police would be able to smell it radiating through the cracks in the door.

I'm sure another two hours pass before I'm satisfied. I've now got midnight blues and burnt yellow's sprinkles all over my living room and dining room. It's magnificent! Okay, maybe it looks like garbage, but there's still something slightly appealing about it. It brings a sort of life to the home that we didn't' have before.

I love it.

I lay staring at the walls until the paint covering my arms and hands—and any other part of my anatomy—dries. By then I'm too tired to give a flying sack of spit about a shower. It's probably close to two in the morning now, and Seth could be home at any time. I'd wait up for him if I had the energy, but I just really don't.

With lazy movements and dirty teeth, I struggle my way to the bedroom and throw myself across the comforter. All my paint supplies have been forgotten at this point, and I don't care. I have no use for them anymore, so it doesn't matter. So, with heavy eyes, I fall into a deep sleep.

I'm not sure how much time has passed and I'm not even sure if I'm actually awake, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I'm suddenly aware of a warmth fluttering across my cheek and a gentle whisper of love in my ear.

Seth's home.