Shhh..... I can hear you

Voice 7

"Heh?" He sounded, crinkling his face up with confusion.

"Unless you have a hearing deficiency, then you heard me right." She sweetly smiled, which gained a scoff from the the boy opposite her.

"Oh I'm sorry-"

"You're excused." She butts in, resulting in Josiah glaring at Tiwa with annoyed eyes.

"As I was saying," enunciating on the 's', "that tone doesn't sound so sincere. And why do you want me to teach you how to draw?"

"Oh I'm sorry, Mr Tempent, I wasn't being respectful or regal. Let me try again." She cleared her throat and clasped her hands together in a praying stance. "Mr Tempent, would you give me thy honour of tutoring me in the arts of precision and colour coordination, despite my uttermost discomfort in the works?" Her voice pouring with sickly sarcasm, batting her eyelashes with a tight smile.

"I thought you don't like art." He piped.

"Oh I don't, with a burning passion. I got no patience for it." She quickly adds in agreement.

"Why do you want me to teach you though?" He asked one last time.

"Because so I can get into Walsington Boarding School. And before you ask, that is the only school in the district that actually have ethnical diversity, and not just full with pick-me wannabes." She reasoned, "And I would rather not waste my intelligence just to go to a pricky school."

"But seriously, do you really want me to teach you?" He asked a last time, before Tiwa sighed with exasperation.

"Hm, let's see. You are the only person I can go up to because I don't like anyone and ew the socializing. Secondly, you were my first choice by default. And thirdly, because I say so. Soooo.... That sums up everything." She slums herself down on his desk chair with one leg crossed.

"I could just not bother but if I show I am the whole package, any uncultured school would want me to join them in making them elite. And it would be a JOY to just decline their offers." She concluded, popping a rainbow belt in her mouth.

"Fine, fine but only for you to stop bothering me." Josiah had caved in to her requesting.

"Good. You better." She sassily threat, nudging her head in a diva-like manner.

"I cannot believe you were able to talk me into this." Josiah heavily sighed, transferring himself from his swivel chair to his bed, lying horizontally on his back.

Tiwa stared him down, "Honestly, you don't really pick up a fight so it wasn't hard for me to cave you into agreeing. Because I am amazing like that."

The latter scoffed, "Oh gosh, you are gross."

In a split second, Josiah was sent tumbling to the floor with a thud, rolling on the carpet, garnishing his accident with a quiet "ow".

"That's what you get, mate." Was all he heard before slowly getting back up unto his two feet.

"By the looks of it, I think I can just back out of teaching you at this point." He turned around, pretending to rearrange some hangers on the handle of his closet that was situated in front of where he fell.

Tiwa's eyes narrowed and shot up from her spot. "Why?? That's not fun-nay." She exclaims, accenting 'funny' in a weird accent. "Why are you backing out, hmmmm?"

"Is that how you are going to treat your teacher?" He retorted, slyfully side-glancing the speechless colleen that was calculating a diplomatic counter-answer to the question that was thrown at her.

All she could muster was a raised hand and a "I ain't playing this game no more".

----

Cries louder than the screeching screams could not be covered by the obstruction of  the delicate hands that shield the ears of one fragile and  broken boy. Tears aren't running down his face but more like quickening pace to dodge the finger or tissue that might wipe it away.

The definition of the word safe is hard to obtain in real life. An example, when had there been a pure time where you had been safe, no interruption or collision with sadness or anxiety? Where could one find stability and sanctuary without thinking or losing their minds over it? When will all of the noises that are trying to murder the inside of the skull wall that aimlessly saves just a dark and empty soul within?

People have vocalized this type of pain, never really experiencing it for real. It's a hard slap to the face with a searing pain that stings and electrifies the whole body, alerting that their is excrucitating discomfort.

A voice is deceiving. It should be pleasant and warming. Not a haunting living hell ride. The only consolation Josiah has felt to just feeling a little bit okay was when his mother rocked him back and forth on his bed, cradling him close to her chest, after hearing his bawls of her name.

Evangeline had tried everything and anything for her son. How far still does she have to go to find her son again? After losing her daughter, she couldn't stand losing Josiah. She would have lost the plot, more so than her son when shrieking.

Like said before, Malorie was a dream that was real-like. A thing that was familiar that Josiah wasn't even sure about was when Malorie was his reliever. His ultimate reliever. He didn't know that. Because she was his dream.

Gently raking the the grassy-mop on his head, slightly kissing the temple, relaxing a cheek on his cheek, these were things his sister would do to him to calm him down, sadly he just didn't know.

By spectating her daughter, she had tried to do exactly what her daughter would do to calm him down, eventhough she knew deep, deep down she could never calm down her youngest child like how her eldest was able to do.

As a baby, Malorie was his whisperer. She was his anchor. He just doesn't remember her.

-----

An infant Josiah would have been crying at 10pm. He would have been rolling around the floor, knocking over furniture, tears that if were collected could have filled water bottles upon bottles. But unexpectedly he was quiet, quiet with puffy eyes, shaky breath, a peaceful demeanour.

She was the anchor.