Bird Boy

 Everything about the new house was wrong. From the cracks in the walkway to the musty carpet in the living room. It was unbearable, except for the bird wallpaper in my new bedroom on the third floor.

The birds were beautiful, and white, with spread wings like they were soaring. The large window on the only exterior wall of the room opened and let in cold, harsh gusts of wind.

The new school I attended was a bitter battle filled with bullies. But home wasn't any better.

"Close that window!" Scolded my mother. I'd growl and close the door.

"That wallpaper is so ugly, why don't you want to replace it?" My sister would remark. I'd imagine a flock of birds flying her away, so I'd never have to hear her obnoxious voice ever again.

"Where's your head? You never listen! Idiot." My father would yell. I'd imagine birds pecking out his eyes.

There was a small tear in the wallpaper right above my bed. Every night, I fell asleep staring at it. I think it would be satisfying to rip, but I would never do that.

After two long months of living in this wretched house, I felt like my brain would explode.

"Ethan! You're going to be late for school! Quit being lazy and get a move on!" Mom threw open the door and ripped the covers off of me.

I squeezed my eyes shut, "Okay! Okay!" She rushed out of the room as quickly as she'd come. I stumbled sleepily out from under my soft bedspread.

Fly away! Fly away!

No.

They hate you, fly away!

Shut up.

I shook my head. Be quiet, I thought, I can't listen to you right now.

Ever since we settled into the new house, the birds on my walls have talked to me. Common sense says it's concocted, but it's hard to ignore the cacophony of cawing. I know it's crazy to hear birds conversing with you, but I swear I'm not insane. I just.....have a big imagination.

The flock of birds followed me to school, as usual. They're always in the corner of my vision, distracting like a pop song stuck in my head. It's annoying, to say the least, but it's more bearable than my classmates, who throw pencils and call each other names.

In algebra, the birds whispered, you're stupid and everyone is making fun of you. During ELA, they giggled, you're so dumb you can't comprehend a simple poem. In gym class, they shrieked, EVERYONE'S THINKING ABOUT HOW WEAK YOU ARE. All day long I strained to forget the flapping, fluttering, cloud of fanfare.

To say the least, I was dead by the time the week was done. Day after day of dark voices drifting through my head, and night after night of the rip in the wallpaper daring me to do it, to rip it to bits. Birds settled on my shoulders, their talons tearing into my t-shirt. Feathers floated through the air, fogging my vision, impairing my focus.

I'm so tired of birds.

I opened my window one night, unable to sleep. I leaned into the cold night air, closing my eyes, letting the calming, cool wind collect my thoughts. For once, the flock was asleep, and quiet. I stayed there for some time, breathing.

A month later, the flock turned into a storm. They pecked at my hands, making them scab and bleed, they grabbed food from my fork before I could eat it, they screeched into my ears so I could listen to nothing else, they pulled my hair out. They won't leave me alone.

As I tried to sleep one night, with a large bird looming over me, talons scratching and digging into my chest, I grabbed it and forced it out the window, slamming it shut.

Leave. Me. Alone. I thought, glaring at the giant monstrous creature.

Fly away! Fly away! It replied.

Go away! I closed the curtains and turned back to my bed.

But the beaked beast wouldn't stop brutally beating me, as it banged on the windowpane. I covered my ears, and bit back a scream.

Please, go away! Stop this!

You can't stop! Fly away! Fly away! It crashed through the window. Shattered glass littered the floor, tore my clothes, and pierced my skin.

I released the roar I'd been restraining for the past months. I couldn't take this anymore. I had to get away.

I had to fly away.....

I clawed at the tear in the wallpaper. A satisfying shred of the previously cherished paper tore away, chipping patches of the wall.

With the ripped remnants, I ran, cutting my feet with the shards of glass that remained on the floor, to the broken window.

Jump, the monster perched on my shoulder says.

So I do.

I dive from the third-story window; with pieces of bird wallpaper fluttering behind me.