Sepia-toned Outcast

There were to be stars falling all night.
This was the excuse she reasoned, while her quiet stocking feet sled down the oak stairs. Creeping out, feigning the cringe of the swollen door, she stalked out into what felt like endless black. The grass was wet, and she was poorly clothed, but she reclined nevertheless. Immediately, the dank was felt through and through. Touched but not felt. She was far to cold inward to acknowledge nature's greeting.
Someone had lied.
There were no stars. Only colorless clouds that hid Sky. In her narrow patch of vision, encompassed by trees, she made out the sepia gray tone of the night sky. Somewhere across the street an orange streetlight was humming.
It was very loud. The crickets and frogs and bats and birds all made chaos with their cacophony voices. There was no silence.
She rolled to her side. Then face down. The little cold she could feel felt good on her wounded legs. The grass smelled of reality. The green side of it. The greener side of it. She thought to herself how she wouldn't mind laying this way for the remainder of her life.
Father should be arriving soon. Maybe she could fall asleep or die, so that he might love her once afraid of loosing her. 'He doesn't even like me.'I wonder if he could care. No, probably not. Probably scream at her for scaring him and keeping him awake looking for her. 'All the better reason to die,' something nearby but far away kissed. But that was nothing new.
To die would be to take the easy way out.
And there were still no stars.