The Impossibility of the Stars (Hiatus)

March to the Sea

"And I hear a voice inside my head...

'Follow me instead.'"

~March to the Sea
By Twenty One Pilots

•*•*•*•

Downstairs there is whispering. It is soft but urgent, and I know it is about me. I cannot tell if they are angry or disappointed or hurt or disgusted, but I know that it, the whispering, is worse than shouting at times. Whispers have a tone to them that are so quiet they're loud, and they can penetrate any silence, no matter how heavy. They plead for your attention, and they usually get it.

"She's breaking. It's too much pressure for her."

"She's fine. Just leave her be."

"You don't understand, I know her. While you were busy with your own problems, I've been there for her. When are you going to become a mother to her and give her the support that she needs?"

"Amber, you're out of line."

There is a pause, one that stretches out longer than a pause should.

"Fine. But don't blame me when she just can't handle it anymore."

"Amber-"

I don't want to hear anymore. I take a deep breath and block out the voices downstairs, as I stare at my math and try to make sense of the jumbled letters and numbers that I had understood just a moment ago. I grab my iPod off the headboard and shove my earbuds in, selecting a Bright Eyes album and cranking up the volume. I glance out the window and my eyes freeze.

The sun is just beginning to sink lower in the sky, which is starting to blush pinks and mellow shades of orange. The towering pines casting deliciously long and eerie shadows that mingle with one another and create patterns on the otherwise dreary sidewalk. Without a thought I snatch my coat, key, hat, and gloves and dash downstairs, slamming the front door.

"Deserae, where are you going?" yells out my mom frantically, loud enough for me to hear over my music.

"On a walk!" I call back. "I'll be back before dinner." Not bothering to know whether or not she heard me, I head out into the crisp autumn air, glad to revel in solitude.

•*•*•*•

For a few minutes I just walk, shuffling down the street with my hands stuck in my pockets and my eyes on the clouds.

Thankfully, there aren't very many cars out this evening in our neighborhood, or it's likely I would be run over.

I seem to be walking with little or no direction to my steps, and that's true. Honestly, I don't really care where I'm going. Just... away. I try for once to clear my head of everything, just to focus on the important things.

The sky. The music. The meandering breeze that caresses my face gently, sending a welcome chill down my spine. And again, the sky. I breathe in deeply the sweet smells of outside and think contentedly that I could stay like this forever.

•*•*•*•

I round the corner again as the sunset turns to twilight. Is getting dark, and though I love the dusk just as well as the hour before, I know Mom will be worried. I take another deep breath as I reach the street my house is on.

I have to go inside soon, I know I do. But I postpone that moment as long as I can, listening to the slapping sound of my converse hitting the pavement, slowing my already snail-like pace.

I quietly turn my key in the lock and slip inside, preparing for the worst, but it is completely silent inside the house, for which I am grateful. I take off my shoes and pad upstairs in my sock-clad feet. Once I settle into my bed and try again at my Algebra II problem, there is a small knock at the door. I swallow. "Yeah?"

There is a creak and Amber steps in, softly shutting the door behind her. Her face shows concern and indignance, the latter probably aimed at Mom and the former at me. She gives me a small smile that is barely a demonstration of happiness as a smile should be, more of an expression of worry, and sits down on the quilted bed beside me.

She speaks first. "Try dividing both sides by three."

I ignore the math advice. "You don't have to take care of me, you know. I'm fine."

Amber snorts, then, meeting my eyes, she softens and lays her head on my shoulder.

"Of course I do, Des. Someone has to. Come on, you're my little sister. After what happened..." She trails off.

"I'm fine, Amber." I repeat, more firmly, sliding away from her.

She sits up, looking hurt for a moment and then casts her eyes downward. "No, you're not, Deserae."

She's right. And I know it.

•*•*•*•