9-27-16

Dear Diary,
I would say that I am scared, however, true senshi would never admit that, or so I have learned. I might say that I have some anxiety. Anxiety about tonight. For tonight is the first night I will spend back with my family – my mother, my father, and Drew. I remember none of them consciously. Drew – maybe it's because we're twins or maybe we knew each other in our past lives (I wonder if we did– since we are both senshi) – but there is definitely something there.
Yes, I've spent a good deal of time with them in the past few weeks, especially Drew, but still, sleeping, in a place I don't know well – it makes me nervous. Laurie and my family, though, have worked hard to make this easier for me. My entire bedroom was practically shipped right over, with a few changes – minus the walls. Laurie also shared with my parents my ah, 'sleeping preferences' problem. It was never quite discovered exactly why, but was attributed to something to with my sense of balance and my trauma on the ocean. I just don't sleep at all without water around. In fact, the doctor recommended a water bed – however, the state didn't have money for such things. So I sleep with sort of a water pillow. Not the best, but it will do. They went ahead and transferred the water pillow, no questions asked to me. However, Laurie mentioned to me that they said they would look into getting the whole water bed. They really must care about me.
There's something else, that I want to question. These are good, hard-working people – but they don't make a lot of money, and I know that a lot of money has gone into helping Drew – who apparently lost it when he lost me, till he cleaned up his act a year ago, and now goes to Hillworth – an expensive private school and will have to pay for me to go to St. Mags. Times will be even harder because of me. My question is how the hell did they have the money to take us all to Egypt?
Well, I might describe the house, that might make me feel better. First, it is a small, two-story house on Bradchip St. Slightly rundown, it hides in the woods a bit, with a faded white fence around the exterior. It is an old brick house, with a squeaky wooden front door. Downstairs, there is a tiny dining room, with perhaps a 5 ft. radius, and some worn folding metal chairs around a plastic patio. Connected to the dining room, is a kitchenette, with a half-sized refrigerator, a half stove/oven, a minor sink, and bare minimum cabinet and counter space, the latter being minimized for a microwave.
Attached to the dining room and kitchenette, the living room near seems to be the largest room in the house. An old misshapen couch lays against the largest wall, near, it a lumpy chair. There is no TV, the parents can't afford it. There is an old radio in the room, and a small computer with dial-up. A land-line sits next to them, the only 3 recreational electronics in the house. The living room is the center of the downstairs, all rooms connect to it – including the front door, the stairs, and the door to the garage.
The garage is one car only, and serves as storage as well as parking. Also downstairs, is my mother and father's bedroom – very simple and the furniture; well they might as well have bought each piece at a different yard sale 500 miles apart for all that it matches. The final room downstairs is the ground floor bathroom. It is my mother and father's personal bathroom, as well as the guest bathroom, and it's Drew's and my bathroom when we are downstairs.
The upstairs is very small – just two rooms and a bathroom (and of course the hallway). The first room is a bedroom – Drew has been kind enough to share his bedroom (almost as large as the living room (and painted completely black!?!)) for awhile, “Until things get more stable”, he said nonchalantly. Something about that bothers me; but he is also doing it because he knows that I trust him, through these scary times. The room has been split in two by bookshelves, so that we can at least have a little privacy.
The second room consists of what seems to have been a teeny den. It now seems to be a storage room?? No one seems to even think about now that I'm here. Odd. And finally the bathroom. Drew and I share it. And that is the house. Signed Dria

Word count = 799