Monsters: The Folklore Trilogy Book 3

In Which Hearts Are Hurt

Sorry this is late but at least it's long?

Recap: Whisperer just appeared.

~~~~~

Amarie's head shot up from where she was laughing with Isaac and Abigail on the side. Her eyes widened as she registered the Whisperer. She looked around wildly. "Chain me down and plug your ears."

"What are you talking about?" Deynan asked, eyebrows knitting together.

"Everything's going to be okay," I said smoothly, trying to calm her down. "We've dealt with this before."

"No," she said with rising panic, "you don't understand. This one is really bad."

"What do you mean?" Ravi asked, standing up slowly.

Amarie closed her eyes, wincing a bit. "I fall to this one really quickly. I'm bad at resisting."

"Which insecurity is this?" Isaac asked.

Amarie shook her head. I could feel my heartbeat speed up. What was she not telling us?

"Which one is it, Mari?" he demanded. I had never heard his voice so stern before.

Abigail placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay, Amarie. Tell us, we can help."

I glanced over my shoulder as the whisperer drifting closer. It had taken a vaguely humanoid form, still pulsing like a heart, dripping what looked like ink or blood into the dark sea below. My throat went dry.

Amarie flinched. "It's...beauty. The insecurity for beauty."

My heart wrenched. I knew the feeling.

"Oh," Sophie said quietly, and I knew she understood too.

"What do you mean?" Isaac asked, incredulous. "How could you be insecure about beauty? Amarie, you're gorgeous!"

"It doesn't work like that, Isaac," Sophie sighed.

"Well, whatever the plan is, make it quick," Audrey said. "That thing is almost here."

I reached out and grabbed Amarie's hand. "We'll go through this together."

She looked at me, stunned.

And then the Whisperer drifted up to the boat and we all froze.

It was frustrating, truly, to have an enemy you can't touch. A battle that's purely willpower. How else could we help other than moral support?

Then I heard the first whisper.

How disgusting. She's allowed outside with a face like that?

I noticed something. The Whisperer didn't have a distinct voice. It sounded like you were listening to someone just around the corner—gender and age indistinguishable. It made it so much worse. Anyone could be saying those things.

Her nose is too big, it takes up half her face.

I tightened my grip on her hand.

Her eyes are too small. And brown, what a boring color.

My heart ached. My eyes were brown. I couldn't pretend I hadn't had the same thought.

What a weird shaped face. What disgusting hair. Dark skin is ugly.

My stomach twisted. This was horrible. Who had told her dark skin was ugly? I wanted it to stop, I wanted to let go, but I didn't want to leave her to suffer alone.