When Lapis Lazuli breaks through my second story window for the second time, it's nearly ten at night, and I'm asleep.
Look, this whole falling-asleep-at-a-decent-time-and-being-well-rested thing isn't really my style, but there comes a time in every exhausted teenager's life in which they say they're going to go to bed early from now on to avoid any future mental breakdowns. Of course, this proclamation is more often than not broken the consecutive night, but I digress.
By the time I hear my window squeak open, my fingers are already fumbling around my nightstand for my glasses. A body tumbles into my room, and I scramble to my knees.
"Who's there?" I snap, which, in retrospect is a really dumb thing to say to a possible murderer/burglar.
The menacing shadow jumps and backs up into my
