The Boy with Words for Skin

Chapter 14: The Voice

"Where does the time go? It has been far too long since we have spoken." The Voice filled the darkness with his deep tone. You couldn't tell where it came from. It was like he was part of the air.

"Not long enough," I said. I hated the feeling of being surrounded by The Voice. I turned and backed into the wall across from the door, that way at least it didn't feel like he was behind me. I slid down and sat on the floor.

"Oh, come now." The Voice said in a fake upset tone. "Why such anger?"

It wasn't a good idea to talk back to The Voice. I knew that, but I didn't care. I couldn't stop thinking of Boy's arm in that sling. It made me wish The Voice was a person, that way I'd be able to hurt him. "Don't act like you don't know why I'm mad."

"I know many things—many, many things—but I am no mind reader. So, tell me. Why are you so upset?" His tone was calm, almost soothing. "This isn't about your brother, is it?"

I knew if I kept pushing that The Voice could get angry—but I pushed anyway. "What do you think?"

"He broke a House Rule," The Voice said. "Repeatedly. He knew what he was doing, and he was aware of the consequences."

I thought about saying my old name after family dinner. Would he bring that up now, too? Was I going to be punished?

My mouth went dry thinking about being punished. "He's just a kid," I said.

"Yes. And what better time to instill respect, restraint, and obedience if not during one's youth? Come now. He left me no choice. Are you so determined to be angry?"

It didn't take determination to stay angry at The Voice.

"You did not go to your family dinner this past Saturday." He sounded genuinely curious. "Tell me why."

"What if I don't want to?"

"I am growing tired of your foul attitude," The Voice said. "Tell me."

The last thing I wanted to do was tell The Voice about that. He'd enjoy it too much. I'd hear it in his tone—the excitement, the pleasure. He'd bring it up every time I was Compelled. The only reason he wanted to know was to find something new to torture me with.

I sat there, refusing to speak. After a few seconds, something smashed against me so hard that I slid across the floor. I smashed into the wall, my heading banging with a loud crack. Stars exploded and the fragments spun away into the darkness.

I loosened my hoodie and reached underneath to rub the left side of my head. It throbbed like crazy, but I didn't feel any blood.

"We're not going back. Ever," I said. I hated myself for caving in, but there wasn't any other option. He'd just hurt me until I told him what he wanted to hear.

"And why is that?" The Voice sounded pleased, like he'd been waiting for that exact conversation.

I thought of my sister and how I'd avoided the upstairs bathroom since her death. I thought of my parents and how they couldn't even stand to look at us. It was the first time I felt sorry for them since the Transformation.

"It hurts them too much to see us," I said.

"Do explain further."

A headache wriggled into my brain through my left ear. I touched it again to make sure it wasn't bleeding. It wasn't. "It . . . reminds them of what they've lost . . ."

"And what would that be? What have they lost?"

"Us. Their kids."

"But have they lost you?"