Whispers. Why were there so many whispers.
Please
Help Me. Please. Why won’t you listen… Pathetic...Worthless...Waste of
space...Why do we even keep talking to her?...Idiot...Ugly...Fat...Trapped
These are what the whispers continuously
exclaimed, stuck on a loop, hissing and spitting and shouting the vile comments
in her ears.
Why didn’t they just leave her alone? She was
fine, everything was fine.
But the
stars. Aren’t they pretty those stars. They’re infinite and out there and oh so
far away but so close. Wait off track get back…
On her 6th birthday she had exclaimed, “I hear
dead people”. Everyone thought she was joking.
Never
serious. Smart aleck. Only good for a laugh. Just like her father. Only good
for a laugh.
They all
laughed at her.
Colors were spinning, twisting, vibing,
swirling, pulsing, and quite frankly giving her a headache. She wished she
could turn everything off and just curl up into a ball. Hide away and pretend
that she couldn’t hear them. Them. They were coming for her. She could hear
them now...rolling… a can...a can was rolling
And No it was them. They were back and they
spit venom in her ears. Tears blurred in her vision.
Unreliable.
Good for nothing. Piece of trash. Inconvenience. Never should have been born.
She could feel the build up. No she wouldn’t
cry. Crying was for the weak. She wasn’t weak that’s why the stars had chosen
her. She pictured a treasure chest unlocking and shoved all her emotions inside
of it, locking it away. Emotions were something she couldn't afford. Especially
with these ever present ghosts.
They were especially loud today. Instead of
whispering they were screaming, howling so loud she’s sure they have punctured
her eardrum. Is she bleeding?
Serves
you right they hiss. She flinches I’m sorry she
whimpers. Mistake. Shouldn’t have said that. Warning bells go off. They’re mad
now.
Mistake? Mistake! You want to talk about mistakes...look
at yourself in the mirror!
She wants to whimper and curl into herself but
instead she straightens herself out and plasters on a smile.
“Be quiet just be quiet! You don’t control me.
The-THe stars. Don’t they look pretty. So pretty. Shine bright, star light,
it’s awfully dark tonight. Dark tonight, quite a fright, why doesn’t my star
fight? Why didn’t she fight? It was quite a sight. In the night, it came to
light, that no one would ever get up again despite their might!”
“How long has she been like this?” a tall man
with a physician's coat holding a clipboard asked an elderly plump woman who
looked part disinterested and part disturbed.
“For a few years. Ever since her family
disowned her. They couldn’t deal with her behavior. She was erratic, talking to
herself, random bouts of screaming, scratching herself and blaming it all on
these supposed ghosts.” answered the nurse.
The doctor hummed interestingly and jotted
down some notes on his clipboard’ “Alright Patient 2224-X28 shows delusional
tendencies as well as tendencies fitting depression and schizophrenia. Keep her
sedated until further instruction.” The nurse nodded.
They both looked up through the window into a
padded cell obscenely white and isolated. On an equally white bed sat a small
girl hunched over like she was baring the whole world. She was rocking back and
forth hands clasped over her ears. Arms housing scars from continuous
scratching and shivering like a leaf the girl was muttering,
“Sorry..no...mistake..but the stars...help...worthless...please...I
can’t...what do you want me to do?...What do you expect...stop yelling...the
stars.”
….How
can I help the ghosts if I can’t even help myself? Was
her last thought before everything faded to black.