PINK

11

'The struggles of being an empath;

I feel your pain more than you feel your own.'

Iara cocks her head toward the dining room and judges whether it is safe to explore or not. She slowly creeps towards the blue hue and what she finds is astonishing. Like hers, this room is all one colour; its contents white. Her heart and breath falter for a moment.

"Dante." She whispers under her breath, thinking this is his room. She so desperately wants to inspect what's behind his azure curtains but knows she will be risking it.

His room will always be here and she's not going anytime soon.

Iara walks down the corridor and meets the family sitting at the dining table. White plates with green and brown contents rest in front of each person, one plate is lonley. It must be hers. She takes her seat and awaits for someone else to eat before her. Stephen picks up his fork and stabs it into the red meat. The fork's prongs now have blood dripping down them, the flesh stuck in between. He shoves the fork into his mouth but only consumes the meat. Everyone now commenced their own eating. The clanking and clinging of cutlery made a homely environment.

Iara reminisced the last time she visited a restaurant, it sounded like this. Dante fork was silent though, like a cowering kid amongst the loud tormenting bullies. Iara looks over and sees that he is just pushing his food around the plate, leaving a trail of faint blood behind the meat's path.

"Are you not-." Iara asks but is rudely interrupted by Stephen's fork and knife falling on the plate. He stares up at her, eyebrows down.

"We do not talk at dinner time. We eat. Dinner is for eating not talking." He informs.

"Are you serious? I was just asking if he's hungry." Iara reacts.

Stephen is breathing heavily and Iara starts to fear what she got herself into.

"I don't know what kind of feral family you came from that taught you to talk back to your elders! Here..." He points around the room.

"... we have respect!" His veins are bulging and face red; Iara compares him to the time her real father got sunburnt. But that was a happy memory, now she is terrified of what comes next. She wants to apologise but cannot, she can't speak.

"Out. Go to bed, I'll tell you when you can come and wash our dishes." He announces. Iara doesn't know if she should do what he says or not. But she follows. Iara gets up and goes to her room which is now dark. The sun has set, but she can't see this through her window, so she just presumes the sun is gone. She flicks the light switch and the room burns with brightness. Iara squints, so much white. This can't be how she sleeps nor how she lives.

But toady she has already caused enough trouble, so she lies on her bed and gets her book out. Iara closes her eyes and feels herself become lighter, shedding herself from all the fear and burden life has given her. She is used to her normal surroundings melting away and being replaced by another place, but today, the white still remains.

The grey figure appears, standing at the foot of her bed. Its head tilts to the left and a darker blur starts to form in front of the figure's heart. The clot becomes big and dark, almost black. It is cloudy but thick. The ghost brings its arms to its chest and tries to shoo it away but his hands get lost in the dark mist. It starts to weep, oh so loud and with such a melancholic energy. Iara sits up from her resting position and tries to help. She reaches out to the figure but her arms are limp and heavy. She can't move them. The apparition screams as the black mass creeps into its body, its fingers stretch out in agony and Iara sits there helpless and heavy.

The dark clot moves into Iara's vicinity and tendrils sprawl out and clasp themselves around her injured neck. Iara gasps for air but the more she tries, the tighter the arms constrict her airway. She feels her face flush with a heat that sends tingles throughout her bruised cheeks. Pressure starts to build around her eyeballs and tears cascade down and drip on her weighty forearms. The tears feel like hot pinpricks on her skin. Her heart is pounding, thumping sensations shake her rib cage. She is wishing for the grey apparition to do something like it did before, but it just stays there, a host to this violent parasite.

Everything starts to fade out to black, the black clot won. Iara is breathless and starts to feel her soul shifting in and out of death. As she starts to fade away a shouting rings in her ears. It calls her name. Suddenly she feels herself fling downwards with such a nauseous force until she settles in her body again; the familiar weight tells her so.

"Iara!" Stephen shouts, not in anger but worry. Addy and Sanny are staring down at her, eyes inspecting her position. Iara's eyes peel open and she sees them all hovering over her.

"We were out thinking you were in a coma! My God, it frightened me Stephen." Sanny says hitting her hand to her chest.

Iara shakes her head, a small smile breaks on her face.

"No, accidentally drifted into sleep. I had quite an intense nightmare." She gets up.

"Can I do the dishes now? I apologise for the way I treated you earlier, I'm just nervous having a new family and all." Iara lies but knows this will get her on Stephen's good side.

"It's okay darling, yes, you can go. We are all heading off to bed but Dante is staying up in the kitchen, we need to fix his room first."