WHISPERS
Music played through my headphones as I was stumbling down the stairs to the basement. I couldn't help but laugh at my clumsiness, I'm always tripping over my size 10 feet. When I reached the final step I tugged my headphones out of my ears. I thought I heard someone call out to me, but only silence answered. Even with my good hearing, there was nothing.
Must have been the wind or something. I thought as I loaded my dirty clothes into the white machine. Plugging my headphones back in, I hummed along to Photograph by Ed Sheeran, but just as soon as I put them in, I ripped them out. I heard it again, a small whisper.
"Hello? Is.. Is anyone down h-here?" I called out, but I was only met with silence.
As I took a hesitant step up the stairs, I heard it again, the small whisper. I rushed up the carpeted stairs in fear of what was in my basement. What if it was a ghost? What if someone was in the house, trying to kill me? A million ideas of how I could possibly die ran through my head as I stumbled and tripped up the stairs to my room.
When my mind calmed down from the scare in the basement, but I couldn't help to drift back to the one thing I never wanted to remember. He told me that he didn't like me anymore, no explanation, not even in person. I couldn't stop myself from doing it, it felt horrible but it was a way to distract myself and numb the pain I felt inside, even if it did mean leaving a memory on my arm. I caressed the mark as I thought of that night he told me the truth, which wasn't even the truth. I didn't find that out until about a month after the whole thing.
I wiped the tear from my eye as the garage door shuddered throughout the house telling me my mother was home. I tried to clear my head before she came up to my room to check in on me. As much as she makes me crazy, I always loved our end of the day talks, even if all I did was talk and talk and talk. She was a great listener and really good at giving advice.
A soft knock pulled me away from the mirror and to my bed as my mom opened the door.
"What are you doing?" She asked, like always.
"Nothing much." I shrugged, the same response I always give her.
"How was your day?" And this is where I would ramble on and on about the drama that came with being a sophomore in high school. I would tell her about how my friend was mad at me about how I told three or four people about how I thought she owed me money and how she was getting all mad at me. Or about how my workout was with Paige. Or that my best friend was leaving tomorrow for some place warm. Our talks were usually me telling her about all of the drama that happened in my day and took about 30 minutes to an hour if I felt really chatty. I know she probably gets annoyed with how much I talk but she doesn't let it show, she always makes sure I say all that I need to say before she says goodnight.
Right as I was about to close my eyes and fall into dreamland, I heard it again. That whisper of a voice from earlier today. It wiggled its way up my laundry shoot and into my room, filling the peaceful silence. But instead of wondering what the voice said, I heard it loud and clear.
"Help."
