What's her name?

  The morning light filtered through the cracks of a window and spilled out into a bedroom.A snoring mass lay tangled in bedsheets and blankets, oblivious to all. A digital alarm clock sat glowing between a stereo and lava lamp on the bedside table, glowing 7:28 am. More snoring emanated from the girl in bed, but she was slowly awakening from her sleep to face the day. The alarm clock changed to 7:29 and the snoring stopped. The mass curled into a ball as the girl groaned and curled up tighter. Then the alarm his 7:30 and a loud beeping filled the room. A pale hand slipped from the covers and searched for the snooze button, but to no prevail. Finally, she was forced to an upright position and was soon stumbling around, searching for her clothes and the door to her bathroom.

 Cricket practically tripped walking into the bathroom and getting into the shower was even more challenging. She hated the morning, it was always too bright and her parents were always to cheery. She shivered at the thought of going downstairs and actually being in the same room as her father who always tried to extra nice to her. As the hot water rolled of her body she tried to erase these thoughts by scrubbing her head with kiwi scented shampoo. Her thoughts cleared and were soon wandering as she washed herself, but it was short lived as her sister,Bramble, banged on the door. Yes her name was Cricket, and her sister's name was Bramble. That was because her parents were ex-hippies and were bound and determined to mortally embarrass their daughters at school, making them the outcasts and "hippy freaks".

The banging got louder the longer Cricket tried to ignore it. "Come on Cricket you've been in there long enough! It's my turn or i'm going to be late to class!" Bramble banged harder until her hand throbbed with pain and was finally forced to wait on Cricket to get out.

 Cricket opened the bathroom door to a steaming Bramble and silently slipped passed as her sister stomped into the bathroom grumbling about getting detention for being late. Inside her own oasis of a bedroom, Cricket dropped the towel that was wrapped around her and dug around her drawers for a bra and panties. Slipping on a white tanktop and some old blue jeans, Cricket appraised herself in the mirror. Long, wavy brown hair hung wet and limp around her pale shoulders, her dark eyes seemed glazed over from sleep as if she were still in a dream. It wasn't until a man dressed in black barging through her bedroom door with a naked Bramble slung over his should that Cricket knew she had to be in one. Or was she?