Around me, the air became stagnant, unbreathable, and began to tickle my exposed skin. My throat tensed, restricting my air. An unmistakable feeling spread throughout my body, starting from my next and then spreading to every tip of my body—from my toes to my fingertips and to the thinnest strands of black on my head. As if something was pressing down on me, I felt my body get compressed by the stress of gravity, pushing me harder onto the dampening linen sheets on my bed. Slowly, my short breaths stiffened and my inhales and exhales were becoming more and more audible.
Unable to take it any longer, I pushed the book off my bed and watched it as it fell.
Thud.
There it goes. But not with everything in it.
It laid there, perfectly still, with its cover covering the ground like a tent, its pages partially parted. Its spine was pointed upwards and the creases on the back and front was facing me, as if it was looking up... at me.
I rolled in the other direction. I couldn't let it take me again. Trying to pass the time, I looked at the cracks in my wall and more or less marveling at the weak infrastructure. The dusty-white paint had scrapes adorning it, and some strips were extended towards me as if reaching for me. It was the same shade as the pages of—
Wait.
Once more, I turned. This time, I laid on my back and stared at the ceiling, at the faint beam of sunlight that had managed to defeat my silk curtains. It lightened my grey ceiling, turning it into some shade of off-white. Reflecting some of the curtains' design, it displayed lines upon lines that intersected and crossed at interesting points. They formed vague shapes that seemed familiar, such as circles, triangles, squares—typical ones, one might say.
Raising my hand, I began to trace the boldest line, the one that was the most vivid and thickest. I followed its straight line to a curvy one and from that curvy one, I went to a wavy one. It zig-zagged all around, traveling in every which way—unlike the curtain it was based on. Eventually, however, the line ended, only for it to go back to the place it started.
I sighed and collapsed my arm and let it bounce before it rested on my drying sheets. "How pointless," I murmured. Seeing that I would never find any satisfaction visually, I closed my eyes. What is the use of following and seeing something that leads to nowhere? I rolled my head back and let it gently hit the wall.
Maybe all of this is simply a sign?
A soft knock disturbed me from my thoughts. I turned in its direction to see Fawn. Wearing her typical patterned pink apron, she stood there, leaning against the doorframe, with her typical flushed appearance.
With a quiet voice, she said, "Dinner is ready."
"Oh," I said, sitting up, "is that so?"
She walked into the room, eyeing the ground to be careful to step over any discarded books, until she was within arms reach of me. Gleaming, she asked, "Yup! So, what are you doing, Allie?" She stepped forward in an attempt to hug me. However, her foot hit something hard and she stopped in her tracks to look down. I followed her eyes and let my eyes rest on the book once more.
That's right, that's still there...isn't it?
She made a cute little chirp and reached down. In a whiny tone, she asked, "Allie, why are there books everywhere? You're going to trip over one of them one of these one days!" Straightening her back, with an amused face, she brushed off the faint remnants of dust on it. Once she was done, she smiled and cheerfully (and innocently) closed it and placed it back on the nightstand next to me. Oh, joy.
"One of these days," I murmured, "and it appears as though today is not the day."
Her lips curled inside and her cheeks puffed out. Her short eyebrows formed little darts on her face which only empathized the narrowing of her face. Huffing, she exclaimed, "That's not funny!" However, her face soon relaxed, reverting back to its original soft an chubby state. With a grin and not before pouncing on the bed, she said, "Anyway, let's go down for dinner! I made your favorite, you know."
"And what's that?"
"...Spaghetti?" Her eyes darted away. "I think it's your favorite, anyway. That's what Phillie told me."
"And you trust him?"
Her eyebrows furrowed and she looked back at me. "Am I not supposed to?"
"Well, what do you think?"
She paused and looked at the ceiling. After a short moment, she looked back and said, "No, not really."
I held back a snicker. "Why's that?"
"'Well, Mae told me that I shouldn't ever, and I trust her. She's really nice and seems to know a ton, so I think I should trust her and say 'no'." But then she closed her eyes and with a pained expression, clutched her head. "But then again, Phillie's also really nice and seems to know a ton. Really, Allie, I don't know what to think. Who do I trust? Who do I not? There''s so much that I know but don't know!"
She looked at me. I looked at her. She blinked, so I blinked. We did that for a few seconds, until I finally asked, "What?"
"What do you mean 'what'?" she asked, giggling. "I asked you a question first!"
I blinked. "Oh."
"Well?"
"'Well', what?"
She pressed her hands on my chest and asked, "Who's right and who's wrong?"
"Why are you asking me?"
"'Cause you know them best of course," she laughed, "why wouldn't I ask you?"
"Well, aren't I biased?"
She cocked her head. "'Biased'?"
"I've known one of them longer than the other."
"Phillie?"
"No, Esmae."
"Oh." She looked up for a split second and then looked back at me. "Does that really matter? I just want to know who you like more."
A single eyebrow rose. "I've known Esmae longer."
She pouted. "You know, just 'cause you've known someone longer doesn't mean you like them more. I don't like my sister more than I like you, Al. She was really mean and cruel and bullied me a lot. She would always take the cookies that Mommy made for me. I would look away and then...boom! No more cookies for me. And then, when I told Mommy, she would always say, 'Fauna is a sauna! She's a big fat crybaby!' And I usually don't care that much about those kind of things, but...I don't cry that much! And also, I'm a big girl... I'm not a baby. At least, not anymore, you know?"
Her eyes widened. Glancing at me, she noticed that I had noticed and stuffed her face into my chest. Murmuring, she continued:
"But it's not like that matters anymore, anyway. Sissy— Hanna won't say anything anymore. She won't say a fake 'sorry' for stealing my cookies and other stuff...but she won't hug me or sing to me, either. She won't sing some of those silly stupid songs she would always sing when Daddy or Mommy had to go do 'grown up stuff' somewhere else. I won't get to hear her voice. In any way. She's just... quiet forever, right? That's what Mae said."
Sniffles.
"You know, on that day, she told me that she, too, had to go do 'grown-up stuff' with Mommy and Daddy. She told me that I needed ti 'stay put'. But I didn't! I didn't stay put. They said that I was becoming big like Hanna, so why couldn't I go, too? I wanted to do grownup things, too. I wanted to help people, too. I wanted to act like a big girl, too. All I wanted was for them to see that I was able to do 'grown up things' like Hanna. She's only five years older than me, so what's the big deal? I thought, 'Why is Hanna going with Mommy and Daddy? Why can't I go? I'm already six—I'm a big girl now!' So... I didn't do what she said. I left the house to go after them. I thought that since only a few minutes had gone away, they would be really close by, like around the hallway or something. So I did it. I just left. I-I didn't know... I didn't think..."
She cut herself off. The cotton of my shirt began to stick to itself.
Sobbing, she cried, "I didn't know that was 'grown up stuff'! I don't want to do 'grown up stuff'—not stuff like that. If I had known... if I knew... I wouldn't have left that room. Ever. I would've waited like a good girl. I would've waited for Mommy and Daddy and Hanna to come back for me. If I had just stayed, I would've seen them again... I would have definitely! If I had just stayed, I wouldn't— I wouldn't..."
She cut herself off again. But I understood what she meant. She was shaking in my arms and clutching onto me for comfort. In my shirt, she soaked her snot. And though she was so close, so near to me, I felt so distant from her. All I could do was hold her tight, embracing her.
I didn't know what to say. What could I say? 'I'm sorry' or 'It's okay' or 'It'll get better' wasn't going to cut it—in fact, it might make things worse. All I can do was lay here, hug her, and accept whatever she poured out.
Eventually, she stopped crying. She pulled away and sat on my chest, revealing her torn smile. She was trying. She was always trying.
I sat up and hugged her again. It was all I could do. Giggling, she stuttered, "E-Ew, Allie. D-Don't rub my snot back on me!"
I pulled back. With a concerned look, I asked, "Are you okay?"
"Y-Yeah." Her eyes darted away. I gently pushed her off of me and took off my shirt. With it in my hand, I used the driest parts to wipe her tears and snot away. Once her face was bare of everything except for the wells in her eyes, I pulled away. Sniffling, she wiped her face with the back of her hand and muttered, "T-That's gross, Allie."
"The smell?"
"The snot," she murmured, finally looking me in the eye. With a scrunched up face, she murmured, "It's all sticky and slimy. Sorry for making an disgusting mess..."
"I don't mind."
"But I do!" she exclaimed, lips pursed. "It's mine and I got it all over you—that's not what big girls do! They get those weird papers... tissues and clean themselves up. Wiping them on other stuff—especially people—is really gross. Make sure to wear a different shirt for dinner, okay?"
I smiled. "Alright, will do Little Miss Chef."
She huffed and turned away again. However, her smile and blush were still blatantly visible on her face. Soon, she got back on her feet and maneuvered her way out of my room. Before she left, she turned back and with a beaming smile, exclaimed, "Get changed and come down to eat, okay?" With that, she merrily skipped away without a care in the world. I chuckled. At least she's recovering.
I glanced back at my shirt. It was just as she had said: it was sticky and slimy. Getting up, I discarded it into my clothing bin and watched as it dropped onto the rest of my black shirts and white shorts.
Seeing no point in staring at dirty clothes, I walked to my dresser and got out another black tee. I pulled it on and glanced at myself in the mirror. It was just the same. It was always the same. Eyeing my room, I noticed little difference between now and then. It was almost as nothing had happened, as if I didn't have a little girl pour her burdens onto me—as if none of it was true. Everything just blurred into everything else. And the feeling the thought left me with burdened my heart.
Is this... was any of it real?
~.:.~~.:.~~.:.~~.:.~
3/16/17: Chapter over and done! Huzzah! Looks like I'm a three-day streak, guys. :D
I feel guilty for what I did to Fauna. I mean, technically everyone from the Liberation Alliance has experienced something of that caliber, but not necessarily at a young age. I mean, she's seven and look at what I did to her! Poor girl... at least she has a new family now, right? And at least she didn't see them die. Or at the very least, I didn't write that she saw them die.
Anyway, I hope this chapter wasn't troublesome to read. I know this one was mainly dialogue, but it shouldn't have been too difficult to get through. And I know I forced exposition down your throat, but I love shoving exposition down peoples' throats. Loving my excuse, right? On another note, I pushed this through a grammar check, so my grammar mistakes aren't as plentiful as usual (huzzah!). Still, there's apparently 20+ mistakes, so if you find one, please tell me... someone. Yeah.
Thank you for reading, and I hope you come back soon! ^^
7/5/17: Can't decide if I made Fauna too childish or not. I mean, she's six—I should give her that. But still, I think she acts a little too immature and maybe that's because the little girl I'm basing her off off is also immature (though she's in like... third grade or something). Well, thoughts? Should Fauna grow up more or is she okay? I know that I really matured her later in the novel and probably should dumb her down, but I'm talking about this chapter right now. Thoughts?
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you did, please vote, comment—anything and everything helps. Thanks for reading and I hope you continue!