The Whispers

20: Touching

Calm is better than anything else I could be feeling.

***

Fire. The rapid oxidation of a material in the chemical process of combustion, releasing light, heat, and smoke. When Harper lifted the cigarette to his mouth, fire emerged from his lighter and brightened the dark room for a second.

That split second seemed like forever. The light illuminating from the small, plastic cylinder lit up the middle of his face, showing his slight smile holding the cigarette, and vanished.

It's almost sad how something that I used to think was so horrible is beautiful. Cigarettes can destroy your lungs and kill you early but lighters will light up your whole world if you need it to.

I need it to.

I feel nothing and I want that light back but I can't do anything about it. I can't just distract myself with fire to make myself feel better.

I can't just take his lighter.

I refuse to put any cigarette to my lips when it does nothing for me. It doesn't get me high, it just kills me for fun.

On second thought, maybe I should try it.

I pluck the cigarette out of his mouth and take a puff. He doesn't seem to mind. I cough and decide that I hate the thing, vowing never to try it again. Harper finishes his cigarette and laughs.

I haven't been to school in I don't know how long. I don't want to go back - the only reason I would do so would be for Stella, but I doubt she cares if she sees me again. I'm probably just some girl that she made nice with because her boyfriend hung out with her. Nobody in secondary school seems to give a shit about anybody else, anyway.

This morning I took a shower after eating some kind of gummy in Harper's box and the water felt like droplets of fire burning into me. I cried from the pain for hours until Harper came in to check on me, only to find me screaming in a fetal position in the tub. I told him to check me for burn marks but he didn't find anything. He threw away the remaining gummies from his box and I wept over the loss of the mystery substance that helped to keep the voices at bay.

He went out at noon with the box and said he would be back around two. I didn't like being separated from the box, it gives me anxiety. My body shook and I smacked the walls, hoping the bugs crawling inside of them would shut up. They wouldn't stop talking about plants - orchids, lilies, tomatoes, you name it - and all I wanted was for them to die. Die so I know that they'll never be a problem again. Never again whisper in my ears.

Harper came back happy. He was grinning from ear to ear, a box in one hand and a stack of cash in the other.

"I've got four hundred dollars just in my hands!" He boasts excitedly. I smile at him and mentally wish that he'd hand over the box before he continues. He didn't. "You know what this means, right? I can buy you anything you want, anything you need, I've got you. Do you want a bracelet? Done. Some kind of fancy lobster from Maine? Done. A mother fucking mansion? Done!"

I want food so that I don't have to listen to my stomach constantly screaming at me. I swear I haven't been hungry for days, it just grumbles for no reason.

I want whatever is in the box more than food, anyway.

"What did you sell?" I ask. I have to know so that I can bawl over the loss of that drug, all I do is cry so at least the next it happens it will be for a reason.