Semaphore

6. Explanation

The words make my heart drop and my smile fade. Since she's still young it's probably nothing, but still those words manage to make me more nauseous than any rotten food I had ever grabbed out of a trashcan managed to. They were the words my father had said to eleven year old me before admitting to the murder of my mother.

After my breathing goes back to normal and my face finally relaxes, I compose myself and tilt my head as I squat down to her height. 'What's the secret?'. She gives me a serious look as she looks up at me with her big round eyes through her long black lashes. 'You're special' She whispers, 'So am I. All the selected are'. Confusion fills my mind as I try to think back to the morning, wondering if I am sure I'm currently not on drugs. 'The selected? Devi, principessa, i wasn't selected by anyone' i chuckle still feeling confused before deciding to make a choice which will for sure be a waste of the money i had been saving, but so be it. 'Do you wanna continue talking about this while we get some food and drinks?' I ask, thinking about how I had crossed a McDonalds while on my walk.

She excitedly nods her head up and down as she grabs onto my hand sternly. A soft groan escapes my mouth as I stand up and continue walking with the young girl by my side. I let out a chuckle as I feel the weight pulling on my arm fluctuating, while watching her jump up and down during our short walk.

After about ten minutes of walking we arrive at the place. The sound of doors opening, people talking, children screaming, orders being prepared, and workers arguing fills my ears. We place our order before sitting down at a table in the middle of the restaurant. It doesn't really matter where we sit since people here are too busy with themselves and their food anyway.

Devi brings over the food we had ordered before we continue our previous conversation. 'So what did you mean when you called us the selected?'. I don't expect a serious answer, since, well, she's eleven years old. But I still do my best in order to listen as attentively as possible. She looks at me with the same serious look as before, a strand of thick, healthy, pitch-black hair slightly covering her left eye. 'Sometimes people get selected by a higher force' she starts telling me but i can't stop myself from interrupting her, 'Higher force? What like god?'. An adorable giggle fills the room as she tries to compose herself again, 'no silly, the spirits. Like the one that made you steal her drink. You think you did it yourself but really she had been planning it'. My breath hitches and it feels like my heart has stopped beating. 'How the fu- how do you know about that?!' 'Mr. Jones told me. He can talk to the spirits' she says before starting to sip on her strawberry milkshake. I shove a burger in my mouth as I patiently wait for her to continue talking. She doesn't seem to plan on continuing before finishing the massive cup in front of her so I decide to start pushing. 'Well, why would Mr. Jones tell you about any of this? You're a kid' 'Because i'm also selected. After I smelled the last flower my dad had bought me I started seeing things above people's heads. As dad walked away from my house I saw a word floating above his head. Stabbed. I thought it was really cool until police men talked to my mom and I found out that it actually happened' she says as i fight the tears about to collect at the bottom of her eyes. 'So you see how people die? How do i die?!' I ask her as my body tenses up in curiosity. 'I'm not allowed to say that I'm sorry. Mr. Jones said it's bad if people know those kinds of things'. As she talks about the situation I realise how sad it truly is. This little girl sees the deaths of all the people she loves. She saw the death of her own father and couldn't help him.