Whispers In The Dark

Robin

Robin

Shadows moved along my bedroom walls; swallowing light, dancing. If I peered close enough I could find misshapen faces among them, pointing and laughing at my fear.

I knew that they weren't real, or at least that was what I kept telling myself. I also knew that I shouldn't have stuffed my medication in between the couch cushions when my mother had left the room to get me some water.

I closed my eyes, afraid that if I kept looking, so would they. They laughed and laughed as tears rolled down my cheeks. I wiped them away shamefully but could do nothing to stop the ones that followed, and nothing to ease the shaking of my shoulders. I pressed my back to the wall, desperate to escape the clutches of my own mind.

I let my eyes slip open, only for a second, but a long enough second to discover that the shadows were pulling themselves up onto the bed.

"Mom!?"

Footsteps pounded down the hallway. I gasped for breath, my heart suddenly beating impossibly fast.

My bedroom door was thrown open and my mom stood in the doorway. Her blue-green eyes were wide and alert, as panicked as her quick breaths. Her light brown hair was in disarray, loose strands escaping the messy bun mounted on her head to frame her pale features.

Her face softened as she spotted me on the bed, cowering like a little kid awakened by nightmares. "Oh, Robin," she cooed. She flipped on the light.

My eyes averted to the floor and I played with the comforter on my lap. My cheeks burned. The bed sank as my mom sat next to me and rubbed circles into my back like she used to do when I was younger.

My dad moved to take her spot in the doorway. "Should I...?"

She nodded. "Robin," she said gently, "you have to take your medication. If you keep skipping it, you're going to have to start seeing Sherry once a week again."

I groaned. Therapy. It was the last place on Earth I ever wanted to be. I hated her constant questions and how she watched me with her calculating brown eyes and was always writing.

"I'll take it," I sighed.

My dad returned with two small white pills and a cup of water. I opted to swallow the pills dry and set the cup on the bedside table. "Thanks," I mumbled. "And sorry, for waking you guys up."

My dad ruffled my hair. "It's okay, Rob. Let's just not make it a habit, alright?"

They made their way to the hallway. My mom switched off the light, and just before the door shut, my dad poked his head back in and chuckled. "You're just lucky you didn't wake your sister."