whispers...
whispers. endless chilling whispers. night after night. so direct and so cold, they cut right through me as if i were nothing. they leave me shaking because those whispers are something. something i dread dreaming about. and dreaming. endless nightmaric dreaming. waking up to find rumpled bedclothes and pale clammy skin. the whispers haunt me, they never leave me. always there. whispering. i dont want to cry out for help because the whispers will hurt me. the whispers will hurt me. will hurt me. hurt me. hurt me.
help.
i was in 3rd period math when i heard my own voice cry out for help, it shook me to the bone, and the pen i was holding dropped to the floor. the worried sounds of my classmates faded into the background, as i heard it again, and again and again. my own voice, it sounded dry and raspy, as if i was dehydrated, i sounded deperate and sorry.
i heard a gasp of shock as i collapsed to the floor.
my cry for help had not gone unheard. the whispers heard. and they werent happy. i tried so hard to fight sleep. to fight the nightmares. to fight the whispers. it didnt work. i slept. and they whispered. i slept. and the nightmares drove me to insanity.
i willed my eyes to open, flinching at the bright light that invaded my vision, and turning my head away from the anxious face of the school nurse, who at seeing my obvious discomfort, turned out the light and carefully sat me up. i couldnt speak, i couldnt listen to my voice without remembering that of the one i heard in class. i felt like i was in a dream, my head seemed to be full of candyfloss, stuffy and heavy, i closed my eyes and slept.
i was in a room of mirrors, every wall was a mirror, my eyes looked lifeless, hollow, haunted. i was skin and bones, a walking skeleton. i turned. here i was fat, struggling for breath, i put my hand to my throat, urging my mouth to open enough to let the oxygen in. i turned again. i seemed to look normal, but as i looked, i saw myself lift the hem of my top, i looked down to see myself doing the same, looking back at the mirror i saw the bruises and the cuts, i flinched and turned again. here i was pregnant about 7 months on. 5 men stood behind me, my stepfather, uncle, my ex boyfriend, and 2 men i couldnt recall ever meeting. i closed my eyes and slapped my face, trying to wake up.