Voices

c h a p t e r 7 : t e a r s

L o u i s a

"Skies are crying, I am watching, catching tear drops in my hands." - Skyscraper, Demi Lovato

The raindrops fall from the sky.

From a drizzle to a shower.

They fall.

Fall onto my skin.

Washing away the tears on my cheek.

Washing away the tears in my heart.

Rain.

*

"Good morning, Louisa," Aunt Annabelle greets as I walk into the kitchen. "You're up early today."

She smiles at me before opening the fridge. "I hope you don't mind having cereal for breakfast. I was going to cook some eggs and bacon for you, but I'm out of bacon and I don't have time to run to the store. I don't want to keep you waiting for breakfast," she says, placing a box of fruit loops on the table.

I shake my head. "It's okay, Aunt Annabelle. I don't mind having cereal," I reply, plastering a smile on my face out of politeness.

She bends down to open the bottommost cupboard, next to the fridge, and grabs a white porcelain bowl. She then proceeds to opening the first drawer beside the stove to take a spoon and places both of them on the table in front of me.

"Help yourself," she says.

"Oh, and here's the milk," she adds, a hint of laughter in her voice, placing a carton of milk in front of my bowl.

I nod my thanks before pouring both the cereal and the milk into my bowl and eating them.

Aunt Annabelle launches into some story about her adventures back when she was a teenager when she went backpacking around South East Asia — or, at least, I am vaguely certain she was talking about that — but my mind starts to drift off, mindlessly munching on my cereal.

I think back to those worry free days in middle school, in play school. How I wish I could just rewind time and go back to the time when I could go to the backyard and play pretend, when the biggest worry I had was whether I'd break something.

But now? Now I'm stuck with my thoughts on repeat, like a broken record player, or someone who just wants to listen to the same song over and over again. Play, rewind, replay.

We stopped checking for monsters under our beds when we realised they were inside us.

It may be a quote from a fictional character, but sometimes, I feel like it's the most honest quote there is out there. I just— I guess after you've lived with it for so long, you start thinking about it too much and you just feel. You feel it in the depths of your soul. A feeling so strong, one that encompasses your soul, and gets such a strong grip of you that you feel like you're drowning in an eternal ocean.

I just wish it would all disappear.

"Good morning Annabelle!" someone booms happily, opening the door so hard that it slams against the wall.

I turn towards our intruder who is causing so much commotion. My eyes find his and I freeze.

I know this guy.

I've seen him before.

Back home. At the grocery store. The fella I ran into.

"It—It—It's you," I manage to stammer out, my heart pounding so hard in my chest that I feel like I had just run a marathon.