The Quiet of Consequences

After

Must it always be so loud in this place? The thought echoing in my mind, not for the first time since I had stepped into my classroom. Boys ran up and down the walls and all sorts of sports balls tossed over heads. I sat silently as people talked around the desks. It was as is nobody ever stayed in one place for too long. Nothing was permanent or could possibly be stable anymore, could it? No, no, we're beyond that. I sighed loudly, accidently disturbing the quiet chatter of the little group. My eyes slid across the people crowded in the section of desks I had sat down in. The room was spilt unequally into squared divisions, following the walls, folding out two desks into the centre. The white plastic of the tables had been bent and stained  with pencil and pen vandalism. My favourite was the collection of engraved ears on the underside of the desk I had been assigned for English this term. Even English seemed unbearable this year. It was if I could feel my enjoyment collapsing into itself, becoming lesser and lesser every day. It wasn't as if nothing made me happy anymore. Not yet. I could feel it slipping away when I did things I used to enjoy. I would talk and not like a word I say, I could draw and not enjoy a second as my hand holds the pencils in an awkward stance and the led glitches over the paper. The bell rang in my ears and echoed over the voices cramped through the classroom. The small group that had gathered in our section dissipated and the noise quieted to an echo of whispers. The middle-aged man stalked into the room and dropped his stack of crisp white paper on the dark wooden desk. He stood tall at the front of the classroom, the cape on his back slanted ever so slightly to the left on his shoulders. "Can you all still write, or do I have to doll out assignments on your computers again?" He would be ever bitter from the first day of the years when a tall girl from the back of the class suggested that they do the essay on their laptop. The girls next to her had all nodded eagerly at the proposition, most likely because it would be easier to copy and paste such composition rather than write it all out over the course of a few hours they could've spent doing something they would enjoy. "Aching hands are relic of the past now. No wonder you children can't write properly." The man grumbled as he slumped into his chair in front of the smart screen. "We can write properly." I could practically see the sarcasm drifting from this boy's mouth as he murmured to himself next to me. I looked at him briefly, his candidly ruffled dark hair hanging over his eyes. His arm rested on the desk, and he leaned forward, resting on the out spread of his lined notebook. The boy's head bobbed up, as if feeling the sensation of my eyes running over his appearance. Narrowed mellow eyes flicked up to meet mine. Oh, such eyes. They dragged me into thick honey filled haze, shimmering in the reflection of the sun. I slumped against my seat and the boy simply tilted his head to the side in a question as his grin laughed at me. “Yes?” His voice was a drawl of an American accent as his head lolled back to face me. I frowned. "You're staring, and it's starting to bother me." Was it getting through? Was my brain functioning properly? My mouth fell open clumsily and stalled. The boy turned away and my eyes fell to my lap. Red flushed my cheek in embarrassment and rage. I stood up suddenly and my chair screeched on the floor, collecting everyone's attention in an instant. My vision blurred and I stumbled to the door, my feet dragging me along the hall. Nobody followed. I shoved into the bathroom. A few girls crowded the mirrors over the sinks and stared at I barged into one of the many grey-green stalls. Kneeling over the toilet, my throat closed up and my stomach tightened. My eyes squeezed shut and tears burned my cheeks. It was worth it. It was all worth it. A hand gripped my shoulder, and my neck snapped up to check. My brother's face wisped over my eyes, but nobody was standing over me. No one. My fingers flexed on my shoes and shoes clicked on the tiles as I collapsed into my chest. My dark hair fell over my face, sticking to skin like sugared gel as my bones itched. My mother's harsh words pressed against my forehead, and my father's hoarse voice banging through my skull. This is what I wanted. My breathing turned shallow, and my nails shrunk into my fingers, and my heels touched the ground, and my hands cramped, and my stomach twisted, and my lungs strained, and my ears were invaded with noises. Horrible, awful terrible noises of drowned cries and lost screams as I sank to the floor. My eyes fluttered close and a darkness hovered above me. And it all stopped.

Part 2

I opened my eyes ever-so slowly to see the witch. It grinned and it was as if it never stopped. "I am the parent of civilizations, the killer of heroes. Without me, you cannot survive, but embrace me too much, and you’ll cease to thrive. What am I?" I blinked up at her. She looked just like a dream. A nightmare to thrive off during the day and a daydream to wish for at night. "Time." I whispered. It nodded and smiled knowingly. "Only time."

Before

"I just want to go far away." The witch's eyes flittered over me. It looked as though she had cobwebs in her black irises. "How far?" It asked curiously. "Somewhere only time can find me." Its eyes flashed as I took a step forward. "Somewhere no one can find me, somewhere I can be let this place go." Did I want this? My mind danced with my brother for a moment. I recoiled as the witch's stench inched closer. "Everyone wants to be found eventually." It said evenly. Uncaring. I shook my head. "Not me." Never me. The beautiful creature considered me thoroughly, edging in a circle around me. Nerves leaped in my stomach and my fingers twitched, running skin over nail. "No matter where?" The horrible thing asked, it's expression flat with amusement. I nodded. "Anywhere but here." "This is the only place you belong." I shivered. I didn't belong here, who could belong here? "I don't care." My voice quivered and the witch's eyes narrowed. "Anywhere else will kill you. Pain will follow you, even if nothing else does. Nothing stops such pain." It shakes it's head. "Not this pain."

Part Three

"Does it ever stop?" I asked, my voice muffled and coarse. The beautiful witch. The horrid creature. It shook it's head and a grin stained it's face. "This is what you wanted."