Voices

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The walls were talking to him again, whispering small things, comforting things this time, and Tyler whispered back, pen paused on paper.

He looked from the wall, outside his bedroom window into the backyard.

He wished he could leave this house, but his parents had always told him to never leave, to never go outside unless it was to water the plants or to sit in the backyard and draw.

Tyler shut his eyes for a moment and inhaled sharply, his mothers perfume consumed his, her jumper he was wearing.

He missed her, he thought.

No, no you don't, the walls would scream and Tyler would frown.

"Why not?"

"You're trapped in Slowtown because of her,"

"She just wants to protect me," Tyler shrugs.

The walls laugh.

"From what? Yourself?"

Again Tyler shrugs, deciding not to argue with plaster and paper today.

"They'll be home soon anyway," Tyler stood, gripping his note pad tighter, clutching the pen between his teeth. "Besides, its not too bad here," he put his pen back into the cup on his desk, the note pad followed.

"They'll be back, it's just another business trip, I've been alone before," Tyler sighed, running his fingers along the edge of the desk. He reaches for his ukulele and gently picks it up.

As he makes his way down the stairs he hears the walls talk one more time.

"You'll always be alone now."

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