white eyes, blank souls (broken heart-strings sequel)

thirteen

Why does it feel this way? I can't breathe. I can't move at all; no air is going into my lungs. Someone wake me up. Someone make is stop. It's dark where I am. Cramped. Can anyone hear me? Dirt. I can't speak, can't even open my mouth because dirt covers me.

There isn't an inch of air where my body lays. All the crevices that would be open for someone to touch are sealed off with cold Earth. Is this what was coming to me? Was this how I was meant to die? I always knew that in the end I would face the same fate as what I brought to other people. 

I don't want this.

No matter how much I've thought about leaving it all and dying, I don't actually want this now. not yet. The people in this new home I found are not scared of me. They are not afraid. they talk to me like there is nothing wrong, and I want to cherish that. I want it to last a little longer.

I need it to last longer. 

Someone dig me out. 

I can't move my hands, oh no, I can't move my hands. I think I'm going to scream. Panic. Panic panic panic panic panic. I can't move my hands so I can't claw the dirt away from my face. There is no room for it to move. there is nowhere for me to go. There is nothing I can do. I'm going to run out of time soon enough-

"Can you shut the fuck up, dude?"

FUCK-

Shooting up where I lay, my back is plastered with sweat. My room is dark, the fan above my head on. It's always on. My window is covered with tattered blinds, but no light comes through. It's the middle of the night. Even if I could see clearly, I'm sure that it wouldn't matter.

Light is coming from my door. When I look to it, someone stands there. My eyes are blurry, all focus taken away by the sudden urge to breathe again. I know it's a male, by the voice and their posture. They stand tall, holding onto my door. The dim light from the hall takes away all their features until they are simply nothing but a blank outline.

"Finally. God, these walls are thin. You make so much noise in your sleep, dude. Please shut the fuck up. Talk to Emily and get something to knock you out. Hell, talk to Joseph and work it out with him, if you have to," the male starts, opening the door a little more. The light evens out. I can see the scar on his face now. 

"Sorry. Sure," I mumble in response, pulling the blanket up to my chin. It's so hot under it, but I can't bare to reveal myself to him. I don't know why. 

"Thanks, asshole," he replies, slamming the door shut and stomping over into his room. I can hear the groaning as he flops onto his bed, but that's not all. A small whimper comes from the wall behind my head, but I can't tell what it is. 

I need to

know

now. 

Standing up and throwing the blanket off, I go to put my ear against the wall. There's something or someone else in his room. I thought he liked his privacy...

"What? Are you going to make noise now too? Don't make me shut you up myself?" he starts quite loudly. 

Can anyone else hear him? Have they learned to ignore it or are the walls thicker than he actually said?

A small whimper sounds again, followed by the bed squeaking and the sound of a hard crash, like something hard and solid being slammed against the wall. 

"Please!"

That cry. It was a person. Male or female? I can't tell. They sounded weak. Begging. I need to help them. The man inside is hurting them, isn't he?

No... Norton wouldn't hurt a soul. He would never do that. But who is in his room? 

More banging. 

Screaming.

Crying.

Pleading. 

I can't move. I can't do anything. 

Am I actually the lucky one in this world? If there are people being treated like this, maybe I never had the right to complain. Maybe, I never actually will. 

Banging.

Screaming.

Crying.

Pleading.

It continues again and again and again. The walls in this house shake with fear and abuse. It leaks red and black like ink from a washed up book. I'm horrified of what could be happening in that room. 

Just a second ago, he was fine.

Just a second ago, he was fairly calm and reasonable, asking me to be quiet. 

Now, he's loud and violent. 

Something is wrong in this house.

Something is wrong with me.

Something is wrong with Norton Campbell, but...

for the first time in my life, 

I don't think I can just ignore it.