Conscience

2.

My feet ached as I climbed the final step to the top floor in my house. With a sigh I slammed my bedroom door shut and dove onto my bed. After a few minutes of breathing in the freshly-washed scent of my blankets, I forced myself to sit up. I reached over to my bedside table and plugged my phone into my speakers. Within seconds, my music was blasting throughout my room. I was home alone, so there was no one to complain about the noise.

I stood up and glanced around my room, searching for something. My eyes found nothing but my black bedding and the band posters plastered around my red walls. I can still picture my mom's face when I told her what colour I wanted to paint my walls. Her nose had got all scrunched up and she had said it would look too creepy. I suppose it would look a little creepy to someone who didn't understand me, but I liked red. And red and black looked good together.

You know what would look better? Pink and purple. Or even better, purple and white! Like, a light lavender colour. Ooo that would be so cute! You should do that.

I shook my head. The voice tended to get chattier when I got home. Probably because when I was alone it was harder for me to ignore it.

You should do your homework.

I laughed out loud. Why would I do that? I thought back. You give me all the answers anyway.

Well, maybe I wouldn't have to if you did your homework.

I scoffed. Not gonna happen. I turned my music up louder and opened up my laptop. I immediately opened up my tumblr page and began scrolling through. Nothing too interesting was going on, and I quickly grew bored. The voice in my head was numbing to a dull ache, so I decided to go grab a Tylenol from the bathroom medicine cabinet.

While I was up, I also turned down the volume on my stereo. My mom would probably be home soon and I wanted to avoid an argument.

I padded down the hallway towards the washroom. I passed my mom and dad's room, the office, and the spare bedroom. There was only one room left to walk by, and I automatically tensed up at the sight of the doorway in between where I was and where I wanted to go.

Raven was dead. My parents had accepted that, but that didn't mean that they had accepted it through normal methods. For some reason, my mom and dad had decided that the best way to cope with the loss of their daughter was to leave what was supposed to be her nursery in the exact condition it had been in the day she had died.

Raven had never even set foot in the nursery. She died in the hospital. When my mom and dad came home from the hospital, only one of the bassinets in the nursery was used. Only one of the change tables and only one set of toys and books would ever be played with and read. But apparently it would be a disgrace to her memory to put away the furniture and toys she never even touched. All well, I guess we grieve in different ways.

Quickly, I skipped past the nursery doorway decorated with interlocking birds that spelled out mine and Raven's names and pushed open the door to the washroom. You know, half the time I think that seeing that door to the nursery all the time makes it harder on me. Maybe if it weren't there I could just block Raven out of my mind.

Why would you want to do that?

I wasn't talking to you, Conscience, I thought.

Everything you say is to me. Even when you think you aren't, you are talking to me.

Was it possible for thoughts to sound smug? Because that was a pretty smug thought if I've ever heard one.

I popped a Tylenol and swallowed it dry. I had got pretty good at that; considering this was basically a nightly routine and all.