That Unfamiliar voice
As he slowly brushed his finger against my bare skin, I heard a voice— “Push him away.” “Run as fast as you can.”
I searched the room, for that unfamiliar sound— no melody, no tone, no pitch. Just a rush— a heavy flood of feeling.
But I couldn’t move. Like someone gripped me, held me tight. Like iron clasped around my feet, a cloth pressed against my mouth, chains wrapped around my limbs.
I looked down, expecting a hand— the hand that held me in its grasp.
But there was none.
It was as if my own subconscious was warning me about his touch. But he’s nice. He’s my relative. He wouldn’t do anything wrong to me.
As I argued with myself, his calloused hands crept across another uncovered part of me.
I couldn’t name this unfamiliar feeling—this sensation— but something in me snapped. I freed myself from his grasp and pushed him aside.
At dinner, I couldn’t silence the echoes of those strange sensations. I wondered if my mother knew. If she noticed how I flinched when he stood too close.
But no one speaks of ghosts unless they rattle the walls.
