IRVING //a short story//

5.

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safer in his belly.

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WREN IRVING MATTHEW MUM

On fourth day of eating in her room Wren came home late, books were at her door. At first she was confused. There was a pile of books at her door, all different colours and names, all different sizes and fonts, some still had prices stuck to their spines, others didn't. Her confusion grew as she noticed the names printed neatly on them all, Frankenstein, harry potter, Wuthering heights, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Portrait of Dorian Grey... They were the books that Irving had eaten. It wasn't until she saw the note shoved into the front pages of Mary Shelley's revolutionary words that she understood. Matthew. He'd bought her books. He'd bought her favourites. A smile started to play on her lips, miniscule but still there. Inside her Mum grinned at her, she knew. It wasn't until Wren saw angry grit-grey eyes staring at her through a crack in her door that her smile dropped and dread buried itself in her stomach. Today her room would be her tomb.

She placed the books carefully on her bed. The room stared at the foreign colour infused volumes, wonder in their eyes.

"He'll break your heart."

Irving's voice was terrible, like the feeling of your fingernails accidentally scratching paper. The knife of his tone dug into her back.

"You told me you didn't have friends"

"I don't."

"He'll break your heart. We both know it. Do you really think he'll stay around forever? He'll leave eventually, he'll move on and find someone else and you'll have nobody."

Wren felt her chest tear.

"Why bother putting yourself through this, just get rid of him now before he breaks your heart, save yourself the pain."

"Can't I have at least someone? I'm always alone, and I'm tired of it!"

Tears put pressure on the back of her eyes and the room burst into noise, discussions, fearful warnings, sadness's. Irving stayed silent, his claws gripped the carpet. And a scream escaped his mouth, the horrible grating noise. Louder and louder. Wrens hand grasped her ears, her fingers red and white. Soon other screams joined him, the screams of everything, frustration, anger, loneliness and self-loathing. It was all so painfully loud reaching heights that drowned out her mind and the outside world. The mirror in the vanity cracked right down the middle, making the desk shudder and things fall of off their home shelves.

Wren sank to the floor, Irving crept back into the darkness, the tasks wept and the books were buried in the deep dark drawer that now homed her phone.

She tried to avoid him, but Matthew wouldn't go away, he wouldn't leave her alone and it killed her. School was torture, the teachers kept making her stay back, she skipped all her detentions and sat on the oval. She wouldn't talk to anyone. The grey had turned dark and her life was without colour. She wanted to cry and scream, but she didn't. Matthew stuck around and she hated him for it, she wanted to yell at him to go away to never come back, but she couldn't, the words never made it pass her lips. On a Wednesday her mother received a call as she got home, she knew what it was and dread filled her. She slipped away quickly, shutting her door and barricading it.

"It's happening"

Irving stared.

"I warned you"

Wren shook uncontrollably and her hand seemed to have a mind of their own as they squeezed the life out of each other and wrung themselves out.

It all seemed like a nightmare.

Voices echoed from somewhere far, footsteps seemed distant until her door rattled and Wren became aware of her surroundings once again,

"Wren? Open the door Wren. We need to talk."

"Don't do it Wren"

"The school called Wren."

Her mother sighed and the door stopped rattling. Wren was scared, she didn't know why, she just was. She was scared about what would happen, about what her mum would do, she was scared that Irving was right. She didn't want to open the door. She was scared that opening that door would mean more darkness and shadow, but she was even more terrified that it would mean light and colours, she was scared because she didn't know what would happen, what she would have to do. The tasks screamed at her to open the door.

"Wren, please just open the door. I don't want to fight about this."

"Don't"

A few more minutes passed and the door stayed closed. The footsteps left and Wren was alone with Irving. He said something, but she didn't hear, her hands were red raw and she felt a tiredness settle all the way to her soul. She didn't remember climbing into bed, but she found the sheets wrapped around her all the same as the warm fuzz of dreams greeted her.

Wren skipped dinner that night.

She didn't go to school the next morning either. She didn't leave the bed, she no longer saw the point in it. Quite frankly she was so paralysed by the terror of everything, she realised that she'd made a mess of things. Wren didn't have any friends left, she doubted that Matthew would still want to hang around her after her behaviour, she doubted her old friends would take her back. She was scared of what school must think, what her class must think. She was terrified of countless things and all of them trapped her to the bed like heaving Iron-cast chains, rattling every time she turned over. Fear and Irving where her constant companions. The tasks wouldn't stop their weeping.

"Dishes Wren, pass the dishes"

The empty plates were pushed over to him, clinking slightly, the cutlery swishing in the bowl at the top. Irving devoured the pile easily and munched with a nasty cracking, crunching noise, his sharp teeth breaking the metal fork in half.

He was big now, bigger than she was, and he was oh-so very hungry. His wicked eyes watched her silently, hunger written across them in a nice bold print. She was weak now, easy prey. His yellowed teeth twinkled oddly in the shadows.

She'd be safest in his belly, Irving thought.

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A/N

A short chapter that signifies the beginning of the end... for the book at least

It's always weird figuring out what to write here.... anyways

Onward with the story!

Love - Blurple