Hidden Whispers

m i k a e l a // 15

Hurrying down the hall in my dark red dress and a black cardigan, I managed to topple over a few wine servers. The hurry that I had to get out of this place was unimaginable.

My heartbeat thumped loudly and I started shaking. To stimulate my energy, I picked up three Bordeaux glasses and shot the liquid down my throat.

Brianna could obviously not be here. I was completely sure I was hallucinating, but something at the back of my head said that I might not, even. You are back, maybe.

But how? That wasn't possible and was completely irrational of me to think like that.

My head started hurting. I pushed the over-polite people and the fake laughter aside. Air.

Getting out of the small airtight house, I breathed in the chilly but slightly warm air. How I missed New York. The weather problem wasn't there, but at least the past wouldn't have haunted me by hallucinations at this point of my life. I was supposed to have a job, marry, have kids, retirement, grandkids, and gain senescence.

How hard exactly it was to convince yourself that something doesnt exist when your own eyes have acknowledged the lie was clear to me now. Maybe Brianna Blackwood was my imagination.

The first thing I did after frantically knocking on the door and not ringing the bell simply was scare my mother.

"Brianna? I thought you were at the house party? Your sister isn't home yet. What are you doing so early?" Mom asked with furrowed eyebrows, her wrinkles now clearly visible in the soft light.

"9 o'clock is the time to sleep, and I will sleep," I demanded. The wine had penetrated my body and was playing with my brain wires now, it seemed.

"Um, okay honey. You do that," she replied, signing.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my house?" I barked at her.

"Honey, you're hammered. Get some rest. Remember where your room is?" She shook her head and sighed.

A few exchanges of stupidity later, I was lying on my bed, contemplating my existence on this little blue planet called Earth.

The next morning, I woke up with soft sunshine bathing my face. I could feel the sunshine advancing slowly while closing my eyes; entering the room through the window, coming closer to my bed, and filling up my entire face with itself. That was the level of psychotic I was beginning to become.

The breakfast wasn't good either. My stomach dropped a couple of times, and the rest of the time I was so tired, I dozed off.

"Mike. Get fucking up already," someone shoved me rapidly, groaning in turns.

"Stop. Just fucking stop, okay? No one, and by that I mean NO ONE destroys my sleep. And you're no one special," I shouted as I sat up, my hair a tangled hot mess behind me. The sweat prickled my armpits, and I suddenly felt sick.

"Mike. It's me, Daniel. Get up," a young boy of maybe eighteen shoved me.

"Who's Daniel?" I asked, rubbing my eyes.

"That explains some of the things Lee said about you. You not remembering shit about your past people. Daniel Mark. We used to work together at the Antiques. You used to treat me as your little brother once upon a time, remember?" The young boy said, punching the start engine of my memory.

"Daniel Mark. Okay, I honestly don't remem-" I stopped. Wait a minute.

The Dan who was seven years old and who used to work, rather make others entertained with me was this skinny bone with dull eyes and brown disheveled hair. That little boy and this young man had no similarities whatsoever.

The boy in front of my eyes was at least 5'10". His hair was messed up in a heavenly decor, and his cheekbones were completely clear. The jawline had attained shape. His body had become strong, in all the right places. Not bulky, still on the skinny side. The boy was wearing a black shirt and plain black skinny jeans. He was a man.

"No. You mean you're Dan? Yeah right," I laughed out.

"Mike. I'm not kidding. Why, do I really look so different?" he asked, and then looked at the mirror. He breathed out a "wow" and then looked at me. "I've turned out fine, haven't I?"

"If you're Dan, then yes. And if you're not, then what is a freaking stranger doing in my room?" I grinned and sat up straight, giving him place to sit.

"How are you, Mike? Lee said that you were in town so I decided to catch up. How's the magazine job?" He asked, looking calmly into my eyes.

"Job? Dan, I left you ten years ago. How in the world's name do you know about my job?" I asked curiously.

"I sometimes decide to drop by your house, have a talk with Mrs. Whittaker, and mainly the centre of attraction of the talks are you," he smiled.

"I didn't know that," I returned the smile, happily, "Well the job is holding up pretty well. I absolutely genuinely love the magazine, and the people in New York have become my family. I love it there."

It was partially true. I wouldn't exactly call the people there my family, because of a fair amount of difference in thought and mindset. They were way ahead from a girl who came from a narrow-minded society.

"That's amazing! I sometimes ask about Claire too, but Mrs. Whittaker says that you all don't have connection with her anymore. I miss her sometimes. Not much, now. The pain that I felt when she left Glenville was fresh and ripe then. Now, not so much." Daniel sighed.

The mention of my sister's name made me sigh too. "Even I miss her, Dan."

"Hey, Mike, I gotta go. It was really pleasing talking to you after ten years. I love you still, though. But you don't, obviously," Dan smiled sadly.

"I still love you, Dan. You're my little Denmark. Drop by a few more times okay?" I smiled.

The moment I dropped him off and he started walking to his direction, I looked around. The snow had melted, replaced with a soft coldness. The chilly nights have vaporized into thin air.

While closing the door, I looked ahead to the house opposite for a second. And then, right in front of the house, I saw you, smiling at me.

Slamming the door, I held my head and sat down. Hallucinations, Mikaela.

I opened the door yet again, and the low rumbling of the leaves greeted me instead.

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