she sits at the base of her bed , biting down hard on her bottom lip as she stares out towards her wall , a mural of old memories : things soft , pastel colors –– things gentle , red hair & darling freckles . it’s pulling at her , something indescribable and heartwrenching / heartbreaking –– don’t look at me like that , she begs photographs . don’t look at me like that . DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE I KILLED YOU . like i did this to you –– i’m sorry , i did , i did , i did . her blankness starts to crack , little tears in an otherwise smooth surface . you’re breaking . your seams aren’t so strong as you think they are . a gasp escapes her , the first of a series , of mouth hung open as she tries to swallow the sound of her crying . don’t let them know , don’t let them know , YOU DON’T DESERVE YOUR MOTHER’S HUG . YOUR BROTHER’S SYMPATHY . you don’t deserve any of it .
she feels a red type of warmth circulating in her cheeks , near and around her eyes , tears welling & beginning to threaten their own fall . you’re breaking . the words repeat and she finds herself rolling her eyes at herself , as if to stop them with a gesture , a reminder : this is useless . useless . useless . a broken record of a word , repeating syllable after syllable until she’s heaving –– her breaths heavy and consuming , chest fluttering and body numbing .
out of the corner of her gaze she spots the telephone , something taunting : who would you call ? BARBARA ? she’s gone . STEVE ? ––– he’s gone . you pushed him . you pushed them both . but it’s late , and she’s scared to tell it , the same repetitive narrative , to the only person she believes she has left . she can’t call jonathan . she can’t let him know she’s so guilty , SO DISGUSTING . she can’t let anyone know . the thought sends a sort of shaking sensation throughout her and she feels jittery , on edge , the carpet becoming little knives to stab her with , to push her up and off the ground , back onto her bed and leaning towards the telephone .
it’s instinct which has her dialing , and she doesn’t really think too hard about it before she hears the sound of it ringing ––– teeth grazing at the edge of her lip and free hand moving to wipe away tears . ‘ pick up –––– pick up , pick up , pick up , ’ she begs , a whisper , something like a prayer . the feel of speaking calms her , already , something to be grateful for but she isn’t sure will last . ‘ steve –––– ? ’
@ninjaliike .