Words

Eighteen

School seemed like an impossible feat for me. As much as I loved learning the old-fashioned way, I knew that I wouldn't focus on the lessons. Everything I looked at would've reminded me of my crimes. Nevermind my parents taking away my books last night―this was much worse. Sophie, Abigail and maybe even Kyle would notice something was wrong. Telling them the truth would only hurt them.

So far, I had two choices. Starve to death, or write until there weren't any words left to eat. Knowing that my survival meant taking knowledge from humanity twisted my insides. Why did I have this power? I never wanted to do this!

Even as I thought those words, a part of me hesitated. Isn't this what you wanted? It doesn't matter who else suffers as long as you're full, right? I shook my head to reject the questions corrupting my mind.

"No, no, you're wrong!" I whispered while knowing no one would respond. What am I supposed to tell my parents? Would they hate me? I took their flower away, after all...

But what scared me the most was that one day I would take it all away. One day there would be no words left to swallow down, and when I held the world's secrets in my head, everyone else would exist not knowing a thing. A bitter laugh left my lips. Aren't I scary?

Just then, my stomach growled. Not from hunger, but from the gut-twisting guilt that came with my actions. Kyle always talked about how smart I was, so why did it take me so long to connect the dots? I should've realized when Dad asked what a chrysanthemum was, yet I kept my mouth shut out of selfishness. I was afraid to face the truth, and look where that brought me.

Still, I wanted to cling on what little humanity I had left. After packing my things and gathering my typed homework, I trudged downstairs. Mom was cooking; I could tell by the scent of slightly overcooked eggs slathered in butter and cheese. "Good morning," I muttered, sliding into a stool after entering the kitchen in my pajamas.

"Morning, hun." She turned away from the pan and smiled. "Slept well?"

It took a few seconds for me to respond. I was still reeling over what happened last night. "Mhm," I hummed, nodding off in the process. Again my stomach growled, causing me to wrap my arms around it.

She must've noticed this action because a notebook and pen slid in front of me right after. "Good. I'm not sure what type of words you eat for breakfast, but make sure it's enough. You sound hungry."

I shook my head, tracing the patterns of the island's marble top. "I miss eating your food. Why do I eat words?" I still haven't it figured out. Is there some sort of specialist I can go to? What if I really was cursed?

She turned the pan down, then headed for me. "I'm not entirely sure; it might be because you love to read so much." Her hand rubbed my back while I crumpled the wet sheets of paper in between my fingers.

"But... what if I don't go back to normal?" I already craved knowledge more than food. Now I couldn't have either without reminding myself of the effects it has on others.

"Then you'll need to accept, or at least adapt to it. But we'll do our best to find answers before then. Don't you worry."

Tears swelled in my eyes. My throat was sore from yesterday's cries, yet I still had the energy left to yell in a voice filled with desperation, humility and envy. "If the doctor couldn't, what makes you think you can?! I don't want to just sit around and wait for answers anymore―I need to make my own."

I pushed myself out the chair, leaving her to absorb the harsh words I couldn't swallow. The balled up paper slipped from my fingers when I walked upstairs and fell down the steps in a series of small thumps. Glancing back, Mom was picking up the discarded notebook and holding it to her chest.

"Sorry," I muttered, then crept to my room. When I closed the door, my head fell into my palms. She's just trying to help! Why'd I have to go and say that? But if I told them, they'd be scared.

Scared of me.

I sniffed, then wiped my teary eyes. No time to cry. Instead, I changed into new clothes, performed my hygienic duties and left for school with an empty stomach.

For the first time in months, I was late. Eyes locked onto me the moment I stepped into math class. Ms. Honey frowned, then returned to teaching the class.

After I sat down in the usual spot, Abigail tapped my shoulder. "Here," she whispered while passing me her elegantly written notes. "You okay? You seem tired."

I shook my head and sighed. "I stayed up all night... thinking about something. Don't worry about it." Gazing at her handwriting only made my heart clench with a vile concotion of envy, jealousy and irrational spite.

Even so, an overbearing hunger washed over me. Her tantalizing calligraphy taunted my stomach. I licked my lips as my desire to devour her words intensified. All of my attention was on her words. Each line, every misspelling―I wanted to know it all. Eat it all. Curiosity curled its slimy arms around my mind, coaxing me to do the very thing I was terrified of.

You haven't eaten yet. Don't you want to taste other people's sweet words? Steal their words away. They can just write them again, unlike you.

"That's... that's right," I muttered, lifting my hands up to reach for her notebook. "No one would notice if I took a letter or two."

When my finger brushed across the paper, the word started to wrap around my nail, trailing up my hand until-

"Ziv? What're you doing?" Abigail's voice snapped me from my internal struggle, forcing the words I'd stolen from her back onto paper.

I recoiled my hand in fear of what I'd almost done. The letters returned to their place, wriggling for a moment before turning still. What would've happened if I'd eaten her words?

I yelled at Mom out of frustration. Sitting around and relying on them for answers sounded too bothersome. But it seemed like every time I grew closer to the truth, more revelations kept pushing me back. I sighed, then pushed Abigail's notebook back to her. "Nothing, I'm just a bit tired."

"Hm, you seem to always be tired lately. If you need anything, we're here for ya." Her chin rested on her folded hands with a smile.

"Thanks," I stuttered as my hand trembled in my lap. This was becoming too much to handle alone.

At this rate it wouldn't be long before I devour everything.