whispers

Reads: 563  | Likes: 1  | Shelves: 2  | Comments: 3

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic

a fictional story about anxiety and depression. some mature content (blood)

The racing thoughts are dancing and twirling in my mind, dripping like blood. painfully, memories seep out, the ones I've tried to bury and delete. Creating a war zone of shadows. I'm crying, shaking, screaming for someone. But my noises don't exist and nobody's here. Just me. Of course. No one thinks to look for me, especially not here. No-one's been here after that day years ago. My life is up to me. Someone else can't decide if I live this time.

Shaking and out of breath. I collapse, crumbling against the wall wanting to block out my shadows. I look for my phone, looking for a distraction, frantically digging around in my pockets. "Fuck it's dead what the fuck am I supposed to do now?" Still jittery, I throw my jacket across the room, hoping it will make a noise I can hear over my raging shadows. It doesn't work and I give up, exhausted, listening to the past.

"Go away"

"You can't wear that, it WILL confuses people about your gender"

"Not a preferred situation"

"ARe yOU REaLly gOing to hUrt YOuRsElf with tHIs? it's JUst a pOcket KNIFe!"

"It's just a phase"

Curled up in the corner, I relieve events over and over again. Reliving misunderstandings, self-worth, and not being heard. Every time it's the same. Raised voices, tearing eyes, runny noses, and scaring passerby's with yells and clenched fists, just to storm off and leaving the problem behind, trying to forget. Because we live together. Because they think I've been fine for years because if my siblings see me like this again they will freak. I'm supposed to be the strong one, the one that cares and advocates for them. But my words work for everyone except for me. I stand up again and again, getting the courage to ask for help, just to get pushed down again, choking on the shadows. Remembering they pushed back, "convinced" I was fine. Because the shadows hid for like two days or something. Or because I was acting happy around my siblings, while everyone refused to believe I could be lying straight to their faces.

When the shadows started to hide, I hung out with friends, in a safe place with people I trusted. But then when I'm alone again or sitting awkwardly in a room surrounded by strangers or with older people in my family, the faces are familiar but I don't know them. I don't hear them, and I spiral. I leave and I'm alone. Normally, I would just leave for a couple of minutes, you know walk around the building and be back before people notice. But not this time. Suddenly I'm in a dark, quiet room. Not too dark, but way too quiet.

My hands are clenched and red nail-shaped welts spot my arms like deranged polka dots. Some drip warm blood onto the shards of glass on the ground. Why is there glass everywhere? Why didn't some dumb ass clean up their mess? Also why is this place familiar? I don't recognize it.

I crouch down and tenderly pick a piece of glass. Before I can think icy cold blades slice skin open. Each swipe moving closer and closer to bones and veins. Then I remember who the dumb ass was. The dumb ass that didn't clean up. That dumb ass was me. I was the one who trashed the place. I'm the reason why this room is soundless. because I was here. Years ago, pissed at everything, breaking light bulbs and trashing the deserted room.

I pause stand up, look at the glass in my hand. its weeping blood. My blood. I did that. After years of therapy and antidepressants, after years since I last cut. And even after promising to never kill the butterfly behind my left ear again. I failed. Again. I walk out of the room and into the hallway, take a left and enter the first empty room. Unable to hear anything but the thumping of my cold heart beat, in my ears, my wrist, my ankle, even my nose, and the whispers of shadows growing louder with each step.

 


Submitted: January 20, 2020

© Copyright 2022 ShadowF. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:

Comments

hullabaloo22

This is relatable on so many levels, but especially about no one seeing, continuing to get up and play a part. Very well written.

Mon, January 20th, 2020 8:29pm

Author
Reply

Thank you so much!

Mon, January 20th, 2020 12:57pm

phoenix30

Wow. That's a glimpse of the darkness that some people face on a daily basis. I like

Sat, February 8th, 2020 7:34pm

Facebook Comments

More Young Adult Short Stories

Other Content by ShadowF

Short Story / Young Adult

Short Story / True Confessions