Whispers in the Dark (Being Rewritten)

Chapter 1

1

"Christine?" Gentle knocks sounded from the other side of the door. "Are you ready to get going?" my mom asked. Her voice was hesitant and unsure. She'd been acting strange ever since the divorce. Hell, ever since before then too.

I was sitting on the toilet seat, holding a small blood-covered blade to my already bleeding wrist. "I'll be out in a minute," I called back trying not to sound as tired as I felt. "Just go wait in the car or something."

As I listened to her footsteps retreat down the hall I tilted back my head and clenched my teeth against the sting as the red line on my wrist grew longer and darker against my skin. A droplet of blood trickled down my forearm and dripped onto my thigh, instantly soaking into the denim. I sat there for long moments, listening to my shallow breathing, letting the blood rise through the slashed flesh and congeal. Every time a gust of air came in through the window overhead and hit the cuts I had to suck in a quick breath. For something so small it always hurt so much, almost like a burn. It always hurt, every time it hurt. But, not nearly as much as the pain from everyday life hurt.

Afterwards I rinsed off my wrists in the sink and walked out of the bathroom casually, covering up the newly sliced skin with the sleeve of my sweater.

I decided to take my time leaving the house, reminiscing in my memories. The apartment I had lived in was a two bedroom one bath with plain white washed walls and a cottage cheese ceiling. The carpet under my feet was a mixture of every blue and ridiculously soft. I had spent my life here; seventeen years and eight months.

I stopped by where my room had been. The frame of the door had little nicks on it going from about a two feet off the floor to a bit over a foot and a half above the handle. Next to the nicks were little numbers- my height and age as I grew up. I could practically see the memories in this house as if I was a bystander. Every birthday a little girl would stand against this very door and get measured. Whether she had gotten taller or shorter didn't matter, she just loved having her parents' full attention centered only on her.

Those days were long gone now.

I moved my gaze to the bed. All the blankets and pillows had been stripped and were now stored in one of the many boxes sitting in mom's car. Every night when I was a kid my dad would come in and would read me a story and mom would kiss my head saying how much she loved me. Eventually those nights turned into me staying up late talking on the phone with Morgan, my best friend since preschool, about how cute all the guys in the senior class looked. Then about how cute my boyfriend Greg was.

In the living room Morgan and I used to sit on the sofa watching either seriously scary movies or movies where Leonardo DiCaprio was shirtless. When I was younger, and even a now that I was seventeen, I thought Leonardo was one of the most handsome men living, along with Johnny Depp. The only thing I had to protest against though was the beard. Some women fawned over it, I was completely against the rug. But that was just me.

Next was the kitchen. If Dad was going to be late from work me and mom would skip out on the sitting-at-the-table-and-eating-like-a-family routine so many parents were obsessed with getting their kids to do. I hated parents who forced their kids into being pleasant during dinner and talk about their feelings and their days and my mom agreed whole-heartedly. If they really wanted their kids to be less stubborn and to stop going against them all they needed to do was lighten up a bit and they'd lighten up too.

But if Dad did come home in time for dinner we would sit and eat and say "please" and "thank you" and all that mumbo-jumbo. It wasn't torturing or anything. It was actually pretty nice. Dad would crack jokes while mom tried her best not to throw her plate at him when he said something he really wasn't supposed to, like asking me how my "boy troubles" were and that when the time came I should learn to "play it safe".