𝐵𝑜𝑜𝓀 #𝟣 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝓅𝒽𝑒𝒸𝓎 𝒮𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 ↬
Blair Lain is convinced that death is coming for her. Her twin sister, Alex, says she's gone mad. Blair thinks that might be true, but she can't shake this feeling lurking inside her gut that screams tha...
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To play music so loud my ears bled.
That was probably my one aspiration in life, but unfortunately, they didn't give an option above maximum volume. Still, I tried time and time again to turn it up—to sound out the pitter-patter of raindrops as I danced my way into the kitchen. The grief therapist I was forced to see called it an act of 'stimming,' but I just felt like life was better on high res. And high res only ever happened when music was involved.
Music just made things better...like the mud I tracked into the house. It was no longer a daunting task to grab a rag and clean it up. Nor was it annoying to toss that rag into the kitchen sink. My sister called me lazy and said I didn't clean, but the truth was – I did, I just didn't do it her way. And anything that wasn't done her way wasn't efficient enough.
It was around midnight. And the house only had a few lights left on, but that was cool because—unlike my half-blind sister—I didn't need much to see by. I walked to the fridge, opened it up, and flinched a little at the contrast of the bright light that came on. A half-rotten pear, spoiled milk, and a tiny container. It had some paper sticky-taped to it which said, 'Dinner,' and then on the back, 'Don't leave shit in the sink!'
My eyebrows came together as I looked around. Slowly, I removed one headphone from my ear. Blair wasn't around. And with the dimmed lighting around the house, I figured she must've been asleep. How the fuck did she know?
I, personally, didn't think there was anything wrong with putting a dirty rag in the sink. I mean, that's where everything dirty went to be cleaned, right? But my sister would probably have a damn aneurysm over it. I rolled my eyes and grabbed the rag, looking around at where I was supposed to place it before I walked over to the bin. I stomped on the metal latch, making it spring open, and then I saw the note taped on the other side of the can and exhaled. It read, 'And put a damn bag in the bin!'
I rolled my eyes and tossed the wet rag into the unbagged bin.
"Oops," I said, closing the lid. It needed to be cleaned out anyway.
