Pick'N'Mix Mods for The Sims 2

33 - Home at Last

Analise lay in the dark; she'd been woken by a constant banging above her.

Not a staccato tap-tap-tap, but a regular whump-whump-whump. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness; the room was unfamiliar, yet oddly familiar. The mattress was firm, and she was under a soft duvet, not the starched, scratchy sheets. She slid her hands out from her sides, they encountered only more mattress, not the steel retaining bars of the hospital bed. One final thought struck her as odd as it dawned on her where she was. She was in her own room, in her own bed, under her own duvet - naked.

Whump! Now she knew it was the shutter on her Mum's bedroom window. Whump! It would smash itself to pieces in the rising wind. Whump!

She was up the stairs and half-way across the rear balcony before she realised that she wasn't afraid; she wasn't scared of the dark and she wasn't afraid of the fall to the beach below. What was it the doctors had mutter, "psychological changes", well if a bump to the head meant she was no longer afraid she could live with that. Her sudden activity and cold-night air combined for the usual consequence - she desperately needed to pee!

Hurriedly fastening the shutter, she dashed back across the balcony towards the stairs. The wind was rising; it ripped around the corner of the house with a shrill whistle and rose to a banshee wail. Analise froze mid-stride. Ice cold fear ran down her spine; she was physically incapable of moving. The terror of the building storm held her locked in its deadly embrace. She needed to scream, but she was no more in control of her voice than her muscles. Her heart stuttered; she felt herself literally dying of fright.

A sudden lull; the wail cut off mid-shriek. Warmth was flowing down her legs; she no longer needed to pee. Panting with terror, she threw herself down the stairs, rushed headlong to her room and burrowed under the duvet. Rain slammed into the windows, rattling the panes; she whimpered like a cornered animal. The whole house shook from a violent gust. She rolled off the bed into the corner by the wall, dragging the duvet with her.

Huddled in the corner, knees drawn up to her chin, arms hugging herself, she rocked back and forth, moaning pitifully, flinching as every strong gust lashed rain into the windows and shock the frames. Eventually, tiredness, and the last pull of the drugs, drew her down into a fitful sleep.

32 - Mental Acuity 34 - Breakfast Plans