A Hidden Picture

Thirty four

~ Annalise

The sound of voices makes me wake up.

Shut the fuck uppp. I groan into my pillow and try to go back to sleep.

The sound of a slight snore makes my eyes pop open.

Wait-

I turn my head around to see Reed behind me with his arm thrown over my waist. Spooning me.

He's warm and has his face buried against my neck.

"I'm done with your shit! It's every single fucking day and I'm tired! I'm gonna move out! I will leave!," ma's voice is muffled from the door.

No. No. No. Not today please.

My breathing picks up and I lay still.

Reed shifts beside me, beginning to wake up.

"My god your voice! You don't shut the fuck up!," Vera yells back. Her words becoming easier to hear as she talks louder.

I quickly sit up and lean over to look at Reed. "Reed," I state urgently trying to wake up him.

He stirs and lets out an unintelligible word before going back to sleep against my side.

There voices get louder and suddenly the sound of something falling makes my mind scatter.

What's happening. No please not now. Why now?!

He sits up groggily and looks around. "The fuck was that?"

I scramble out of bed and grab Reed's sweater, shoving it back at him.

"Annalise what's going on?" He looks at my worried expression confused.

I try to prevent the tears of embarrassment from brimming my eyes at the sound of their clear yelling down the hallway.

"Reed leave," I state tightly.

He stands up off the bed and comes over to me quickly. I feel his eyes searching my face but I just pace nervously back and forth.

"No I'm not leaving. You're obviously not okay." I ignore him and crawl across my bed to begin to open the latch on the window.

I feel the bed dip but I still continue to try to open the window.

Embarrassment and shame fills me as their arguing and crying gets louder.

No. No. No.

"Annalise, stop," he pulls my hands away from the window and urges me to look at him.

"No. No. Please leave. Please just go," I say over and over again.

I feel him lift his hand to my face and wipe a stray tear.

I push him away and wipe my face as fast as I can.

His face twists and worry coats his face as he listens to the screaming down the hall.

God I can't even look at him.

They sound like fucking crazy people.

I don't want him hearing this.

I know he knows about it a little. Me breaking down in the bathroom and all. But there's a difference between knowing and witnessing.

Knowing let's your mind wander about what it might be like.

Witnessing lets other people see the truth. Let's them crack you open like a shell to see the broken seed inside.

After witnessing they can then make their own raw opinions about the people who you care about.