Opposites

Tam

Thumps, again. Harder this time. A scream, so loud Tam could feel it in her bones. Others would start to get annoyed, but she didn't care. Someone else started yelling, her mother, telling her sister to stop yanking everything around. More thumps came tumbling down the stairs. Then, Iris and her mother started fighting, so now Tam couldn't make up anything from the mixture of words. It has been at least the fifth time this had happened this week. Iris gets overwhelmed by fury, loses control, starts screaming, loses control even more, and starts throwing stuff around. Then eventually her mother comes up to tell her it's okay and that she needs to stop. And then they fight, for hours, until her sister threatens to hurt herself.

Tam knows she should feel afraid or at least annoyed, because of what's happening to her sister. But she just feels hollow. No one can explain what is wrong with her. She has never felt anything besides the huge void inside. A void, deep and black, like her clothes. The only thing that brings colour is her hair, that copper bale of hay that's stuck on her head. She never hated it of course, but she never liked it either. She was just, neutral. Like she was with everything: boys, girls, in-betweens, school, homework, clothes, her parents. Nothing mattered to her. Not even her existence. A slam pulled her out of her thoughts. The fight was over, finally.