The dull whine of static rang through her ears. Her eyes darted around, searching for the source of the vexing hum. TV, off. Windows, closed. Phone, dead. So what was it? Standing, she began to walk around, but the noise seemed to follow her.
She brought a hand up to her right temple, an ache resting in her head. There was no source! The noise came from her own head, growing louder the more it pounded.
The small girl doubled over, fingers pressing into her ears to block it out, out, out, but to no avail. Dull nails scratched at pale skin, soft pink lines left in their wake. Shut up, shut up, shut up. It spilled from her lips like a mantra. SHUT UP. But the static went on, and on, and on, growing louder and louder as the minutes went by.
Her knees buckled, and suddenly she was on the floor. It was a beg now, a plea. Shut up, shut up. A sob broke the silence of the rest of the world, but the girl couldn't even hear herself anymore.
She curled up among the cigarette butts on the scratchy gray carpet, tears streaming down her cheeks. Shut up.
YOU ARE READING
The Untitled Azura Project
Short StoryHow long does it take for a picked flower to die? Azura Fleur is a young lady from Grand Rapids with a history of abusive loved ones and a knack for finding the wrong coping mechanisms. Without a decent role model, how will she ever learn clean up h...
