WHISPERS - CHAPTER 1.1
Even with their door closed, I’m certain Mother and Driscoll can hear me whisper if they want to. They’re always able to hear me.
I peel my dress off and wipe a layer of dust off of the bookshelf with my hand before placing my clothes on it. A girl of about my age is watching me from the end of the couch.
She coughs at the dust. As if it bothers her. As if the dead breathe.
I suck my breath in between my teeth, and shoot a warning glance in her direction, even though I know Mother and my stepfather can’t hear her coughing. She rolls her eyes in response.
But at least she’s silent. She isn’t chattering away at me. Tormenting me for a response like the lonely ones do.
I slip off my sandals and stuff them under the couch. She takes off her beautiful soft leather shoes. They disappear quickly from my view as she mimics me, pushing them under the couch too.
I packed a knit blanket in my milk crate, thankfully. Along with my toothbrush, comb, and extra underwear. I pull the blanket around my bare shoulders and curl up on the couch with my face up. The air in the apartment may be dusty, but it beats the smell of mold and cigars in the couch.
She drops down on the other end of the couch, and I yank my feet up to give her space. Her leg feels like ice against my toes.
“Did you think I would leave?” she asks with a little laugh.
I shrug and close my eyes. She’ll be gone by morning. Watching me sleep can’t be much fun for her.
Even with their door closed, I’m certain Mother and Driscoll can hear me whisper if they want to. They’re always able to hear me.
I peel my dress off and wipe a layer of dust off of the bookshelf with my hand before placing my clothes on it. A girl of about my age is watching me from the end of the couch.
She coughs at the dust. As if it bothers her. As if the dead breathe.
I suck my breath in between my teeth, and shoot a warning glance in her direction, even though I know Mother and my stepfather can’t hear her coughing. She rolls her eyes in response.
But at least she’s silent. She isn’t chattering away at me. Tormenting me for a response like the lonely ones do.
I slip off my sandals and stuff them under the couch. She takes off her beautiful soft leather shoes. They disappear quickly from my view as she mimics me, pushing them under the couch too.
I packed a knit blanket in my milk crate, thankfully. Along with my toothbrush, comb, and extra underwear. I pull the blanket around my bare shoulders and curl up on the couch with my face up. The air in the apartment may be dusty, but it beats the smell of mold and cigars in the couch.
She drops down on the other end of the couch, and I yank my feet up to give her space. Her leg feels like ice against my toes.
“Did you think I would leave?” she asks with a little laugh.
I shrug and close my eyes. She’ll be gone by morning. Watching me sleep can’t be much fun for her.
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