Short Stories

#11- Rosalie

Rosalie

Lights flicker. On...then off. Then on again. A never ending cycle. It's the only room that occupies a human. All of the other doors are closed, no brightness shines from the cracks. Just darkness. Only darkness.

The room is at the end of the hall. Leading up to it, there are no sounds. However, when you get close enough to the flickering lights in the almost empty room, in the almost empty school, you can hear the "click click," sound of the keyboard.

There she sits. The only human in the place of the flickering lights of the almost empty school, at the place where I spent most of my childhood, sitting hunched over in front of the blue shade of the computer screen. Her chair is tipped, forcing her forward.

Her eyes have deep, dark circles under them. You can tell she's been there for a while, no telling exactly how long. "Click, click" goes the keyboard as she types "f" over and over again. We don't know why. You can't ask her either. She doesn't talk. Just sits there. Alone. In the room with the flickering lights in the almost empty school, at the place where I spent most of my childhood, the place where I was bullied and abused.

Her hair is matted down and she's sweating. The girl's face is red and her mouth is pulled down into a small frown. She looks like she could cry, but she doesn't. All she does is sit in the room with the flickering lights in the almost empty school, at the place where I spent most of my childhood, the place where I was bullied and abused. The one place I despised.

But that girl is me. And I'm trapped.

I can't leave the school. The almost empty school. The school with the only room that has electricity, but the lights flicker. On. Off. On? Off. Can't move. Can't do anything. Press "f." Again and again. Can't cry. Won't cry.

I know they watch me. I'm not going to let them see me fall.

"Click, click." Goes the keyboard as I sit in the corner of the room, pressing "f." In the room with the flickering lights. In the almost empty school. In the place where I spent most of my childhood. In the place where I was bullied and abused.

In the place where I will die.