𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄━︎━︎ C. Barton

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

She sat at the dinner table, her brothers and sister sitting around as well with her mother and father sitting at the kitchen counter as they softly talked to one another, occasionally calling their children out when one wasp laying with their food, not eating, or throwing the food at another sibling. And then there was Theodora, who sat there silently, her dark hair falling into her eyes as she carefully adjusted the black laced gloves that sat comfortably on her hands like they always have since the age of seven. She was the quietest of the four Knox children, and it was something that her parents were always worried about.

Rachel and Mark Knox were the only ones that understood why it was that their daughter wore the gloves everyday of her life―︎taking them off only when she had to take a shower and trying her best to keep her mind clear and her breaths steady. They understood, and they believed her. Hell, the didn't have a reason not to, for Theodora had taken it upon herself to actually show them what it was that she saw. And they were both traumatized with what it was that they saw, and without any hesitation they took her to get some gloves, and now that seemed to be her main accessory.

Her siblings never understood why it was that the oldest of the Knox children wore black laced gloves on her hands. Michael, her brother, had only been three years old when Theodora had developed the curse that she had. He barely remembered what he ate thirty minutes prior, much less remembered why it was that his older sister wore such an odd accessory on her hands. He heard kids at his school talking, raising questions, and after so long of not saying anything, he decided that it was time for him to speak up.

     "Theo, can I ask you something?" Michael spoke up, grabbing the woman's attention. She pushed the hair from her eyes revealing the emerald green irises that always seemed to be hidden behind the dark curtain that was her hair. She nodded her head, placing her fork on her plate.

     "Of course, Mikey. What's up?"

     He nodded towards her hands. "Why do you wear those gloves twenty-four seven?"

     Rachel and Mark froze at the question, meeting each others eyes before turning their head to watch the conversation unfold. They watched as Theodora shrugged her shoulders. "Does it really matter."

     "Yes, in fact, it does." Michael decided.

      "Michael," Their mother warned.

     "Mom, it's just a question." Michael laughed it off, looking at his mother before looking back at Theodora. "Theo, it's not that hard. I just want to know why everyone believes my sister is a suicidal goth kid."

     "Now that you mention it, I don't think I've ever seen you with them." Joshua, her other brother, hummed. He was the second youngest, leaving her sister Ashley to be the youngest.

     "Josh, Michael, stop it." Mark warned his two sons.

     "I just want to know the answer to my question!" Michael defended. "I can't defend my sister if I don't have a reason why she wears those stupid things all the time."

     Theodora glared at her brother, clenching her jaw as she stood up. "Drop it."

     "Or what?" Michael stood up as well, moving towards her. "It's just a question sis."

     Theodora swallowed thickly as she looked at her younger brother before nodding her head. "You want to know why I wear the gloves? Do you? Well, brother, let me just show you why I wear the gloves."

     "Theo―︎" Rachel shook her head. But Theodora had already pulled off the glove on her right hand and was quick to grab onto her brother's arm tightly,  allowing the horrors she had seen to pass from her mind, through her hand, and into her brother's head. Tears quickly started rolling down his cheeks as horrified yells fell from his lips. It wasn't until Mark ran over and ripped her hand from his arm that Theodora had realized what it was that she had done. Her eyes were wide, watching as Rachel grabbed onto Michael as he just kept screaming.

     "Oh, God." Theodora whispered, quick to place the glove back on her hand. "I didn't mean―︎dad, I didn't mean to." Theodora shook her head and Mark nodded in understanding, repeating in soft whispers that he knew she didn't mean to. "Mikey, I'm so sorry. I. . ." Theodora shook her head as her tears filled her eyes and she shook her head. "I'm sorry." And then she pulled from her father's grasp, grabbing her car keys and wallet before quickly running out of the house, the only thing on her mind being what it was that she had just done to her brother, and the realization of how much of a monster and burden she truly was.