“Your walls” He whispered from behind my shoulder. His eyes we’re raking the walls I know they are.
My room mesmerizes everyone.
“I know,” I replied in the same whispered tone he had used. Don’t know why. To add tension maybe. That’s what my drama teacher had always told me when we were studying Shakespeare. The actors created tension by repeating words or adding pauses but the best way was to use tone, the same tone and then to change.
“They’re the stars, millions of them. Why?” I saw him walk past me into the center of the room. My room is a square box of blue walls with wooden floor and a single window. The real room would have a bed in it, some convention that my mom had said normal people abide by. But this is my room. I didn’t want a bed.
“I don’t know, the first time I thought about it I drew a star. Guess it got out of control” I whispered back to him with a light chuckle.
When he turned around I realized I had let something slip “thought about what?” I moved to him, my nose no more then a centimeter from his.
“Guess; I’m sure you know what it is”
“Lizzie, I really don’t” his minty breath tingled my face as it washed over it. I want some gum. Why didn’t he offer any to me?
“Well I won’t tell you, I don’t like to think about it.” I turned and went to stand next to the window instantly wishing I was closer to him, he was warm. Simon didn’t move from his place on the floor but his ever-vigilant stare never left me, I could feel it. Boring into my head. I knew I shouldn’t have let him in.
“I think you need to Lizzie.”
“A need is something that is required. This is not required. I need oxygen, I need water and I need food to live but thinking about it, is not a need Simon, it is a curse.” I looked out past my room through my window into the scene below. I could make it change, if I wanted. When I was little it was the view from my grandmothers nursing home window, green grass as bright as a golf course in spring. When I grew older, in my early teens it was of the sports field and every time I looked down the football team was practicing, I could always see my brother practicing as one of them. Now, it was a street. An unrecognizable one. Tall trees surrounding it, bars that locked in those that were inside. Their leaves the color of blood. The ground cracked and mangled; covered with fallen leaves. There’s only one lamppost on. Its spotlight shining down onto nothing. Just the gray of the curb.
“It is a need Lizzie, I need to help you and the only way I can do that is if you let me see everything.” Simons voice grated against me, it never changed always controlled always so, safe. It was as if he had no emotions, as if that was what made him human. I don’t want to be like him. I don’t need to be saved.
“Why do I need to?” I stormed towards him my hand was pointing at his face, for once showing a distortion of emotion.
“You have seen everything. Every single thing. It is no longer mine it is yours as well. Why should you have the right to see my mind? Why should you have the right to look inside me? To analyze it and see how crazy I am. And ask yourself whether my mind can be fixed. Why should you be the one to judge if I can be saved. No one cares, no one ever does. Margaret doesn’t care, Daniel doesn’t care and you don’t care. Not about me not about John. Nobody cared when he was taken. You all thought it was normal. Just routine, every 16 year old is taken, why is this any different. Huh?” I know my eyes are wild but I have to get this out, if he wants to know he can know.
My room had started to go dark over my last couple of words, the walls dripping down, melting away leaving only the stars. Glowing, brightly as if my scribbles were the work of a God.
“It was different because he never returned. He failed, didn’t he? Smart, clever athletic john failed all because he was beaten. I saw the scars.” My voice had started to weaken.” I saw them. I could hear his screams. He thought his pleas were unheard. I didn’t know what to do. When they came and toke him, the night before he knew what was going to happen he came to me and told me. I asked him where he got his scars. He didn’t reply. I asked why he cried at night. He didn’t reply. He just sat there. After a while he starter to open up, he had explained everything to me and allowed a single tear to flow down his beautiful face. My brother would never hurt anyone and yet he was taken because he was broken, broken by a man who was supposed to love him.”
Simon was taken aback by what I had told him. That was evident. He reached out to touch my arm. Comforting gesture I suppose but from his expression i could tell he was not expecting what I had said. I hadn’t realized my face was shredded with tears.
I had told him and I had thought about it.
So I turned on my heel a pen was in my hand from nowhere and I drew a star into the wall that had appeared behind me. As I drew it I felt all the pain, the loss, the endless nights that I had had growing up where I didn’t sleep in fear of my own father. Wishing that John was there to protect me. I etched as hard as I could; I wanted dents in the wall that would last forever. As I finished the iridescent white star I turned back around to see Simon’s morbid face. It was then that I crumbled to the hard wood beneath me and curled up to let out the rest of my tears. As I sank down an arm wrapped around me and the smell of mint enveloped me. I had cried before but I had never cried with someone near me or trying to comfort me. He said no words but his giant hands softly smoothed my back. As I cried into his shoulder he maneuvered himself to encase me in his circle. It was strange, crying shows you’re venerable. Human nature says we shouldn’t like being venerable in front of someone else; but I kind of liked it.
Another thing to be added to the list, I guess.
Well, I had originally had the image of the street in my head but this kinda happened. Don't forget to tell me what you think :)