I didn't sleep .
Not really,not with the continuous whispers and echoes I heard.Unfortunately...some truths do not belong to the living.
I just laid there,eyes open wide, staring at the ceiling which felt odd for some reason —listening to the stillness that came with the cool breeze as if it could explain what happened to me yesterday .
That echo—
That fear—
It wasn't mine,I could feel it deep down .
It didn't belong to me...no no it didn't
But it settled in my chest like it was looking for a home, unfortunately the home was already filled with painful memories.
The morning light burned my eyes .I pulled the cover of the bedsheets my Grandma made for me—it was my last memory of her.
Life took away the only person that could understand me...
I pulled the covers over my head trying to forget everything ,but forgetting isn't an option .No Matter how I tried ,I just couldn't.
My head recorded every broken voice,
My eyes replayed every hidden truth.
But my ears...they stopped
Knowing what silence felt like.
I eventually got up.Brushed my teeth.Combed my hair.Pretended everything was okay when deep down I was freaking out.
By the time I got to school ,I already felt ... watched
Like the lockers were whispering about me.
Like they knew something —I walked faster
I got to class our Chemistry teacher ,Mr Zack just stared at me...like he knew something was off.
I greeted him and walked straight to my desk.
Perfect timing I guess...I was just coming and he was about to leave.
He left though...well, eventually.I took my bag to my locker and put all my necessities in it,but while struggling between the crowd of uncultured children,I slightly brushed Zoe's elbow.
She was one of the coolest person in the class,she was well reserved —
I turned to tell her sorry and she gave me a warm smile.
Just then I felt it...
I flinched,her sadness wasn't mine ,but it stucked like I'd lived it.
Later hiding in the stairwell,I opened the book again .
Still no title ,just a message written across a once–blank page:
"The voices you hear are not yours to carry...but you will carry them anyways".
With that the book forcefully closed itself.
The ink bled under my skin,with a black mark under my pain fresh and warm like a bruise.
Then I wasn't alone
That boy,the boy who never speaks.
"You heard it too didn't you"I didn't answer
He just nodded ."The book doesn't choose without consequences"
I heard what I shouldn't —and now,
Something else knows I did.