"Today was the day, my parents had finally given up on me, and I wasn't sure how to feel about that."
Ever feel like your own mind, your own body, is keeping secrets from you?
My name is Eden Moore, and I'm not scared of spiders, or snakes, I'm sca...
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My heart froze. I was imagining it. I had to be.
There was a body lying in the bed. A boy, perfectly tucked in. One thing that scared me the most however, he wasn't breathing. His chest was perfectly still, limbs like stone. I couldn't see his face from the doorway, but I had to lean on the frame to avoid dropping to the floor. My heart was in my mouth, I worried I was going to cough it up at any moment.
My breath hitched as my legs betrayed me, and took a step forward. Then another, and another. Until I was standing, shaking, at the bedside.
His face was porcelain. So perfectly preserved, it was like he had just laid down for a nap. I examined his features, my eyes trailing up his face, until I got to the black abysses where eyes should be. I had to bite down on the inside of my bottom lip to keep from crying out. I didn't know his face, but that didn't stop a single burning tear from rolling down my face, falling off my chin and onto his cheek.
Leaning over him, I reached a trembling hand to face, wiping the tear away with my thumb. His skin was cold. I was never brought to funerals as a child, but that was how I imagined them. Cold.
Who are you? My mind kept repeating the same question. I stood completely paralysed, gazing at his hollow eyes. Hollow. Those monsters. A burning hatred nagged at me. Those things did this to him. An image of my missing grandmother forced its way into my head, gaping black holes where her once kind eyes had been. I had an incredible urge to hold the boys hand, and tell him he was going to be alright.
Silent tears dripped from my eyes, one by one falling from my jaw, leaving stinging red lines behind on my skin.
Somebody was looking at me. I had that feeling of another presence in the room, so I pivoted to confront the doorway. Hastily wiping my cheeks when I saw it was Enoch.
"Y-You shouldn't be in here." I heard him say bluntly, though his voice did waver when I looked at him.
Ignoring his comment, I returned my gaze to the boy in the bed. "What was his name?" I asked with almost no emotion in my voice, despite the tears still falling from my eyes.
"Victor. Bronwyn's older brother." Enoch answered quietly, stepping forward to stand next to me, staring absently at Victor's pale face.
Hearing this new information broke something in me. The feelings hit me like a tsunami, and I was completely and helplessly drowning. I pressed my trembling hands over my face. Unable to form a clear thought or sentence.
I could tell Enoch was looking at me. I felt his cold hands grip both my wrists, and slowly he pulled my hands from my face. I watched as he rooted in his pocket and took out a crumpled tissue, then handed it to me.
I took it, clutching it tightly. I gave him a half smile without looking him in the eye. Hating myself for being such an emotional wreck. What on earth did this boy find likeable about me?
