By: Dorothy Hamilton
Often humans are sad when we lose loved ones, we say we would do anything to get them back, including dying ourselves. However, they don't know what it's like to constantly hear other dead. They don´t know what it's like to be constantly whispered to. I do though. This is the story of how her whispers consumed me.
I used to be good at school. But when my aunt died I couldn't focus anymore, I would constantly hear her. I always waited and waited for the last bell to ring so I could go somewhere quiet, just me, my dead aunt's voice and my thoughts. One day, however, I was stopped, my 8th period ELA teacher, Mrs. Laigh was calling me over . She said, ̈ I'd like to speak with you for a second¨. I walked in and sat down, the only thing separating me and Mrs. Laigh was her large wooden desk. She began the conversation, ¨I, I just wanted to make sure you´re okay, you don't seem to speak with anyone or engage in class and I wanted to check if something was wrong¨.
I look up suddenly, realizing she was talking to me, ¨I'm sorry, what did you say¨
¨I just asked if you were okay,¨ Mrs. Laigh repeated
¨Oh, yeah, I'm fine¨. Then I hear a voice but it's not Mrs. Laighs it's my aunt's. She's telling me to leave the room. My eyes widen and without saying anything I pick up a bag and leave.
On the walk home I could hear them, the whispers, they were soft and quiet, I had been hearing them since my aunt died a month ago. I couldn't get my mind off the whispers. They belonged to my aunt, the whispers. I can tell because it was her voice, she gave me directions, some were bad, some were good, and I always obeyed them. I hoped that if I listened for long enough they would go away. If I did everything right maybe she would go away, but she didn´t. So I stayed up at night, listening to my dead aunt talk.
I almost hit my head on my house door. I was looking down and didn't realize I was home. I walked into the house only to find nobody was home. All that was there was a note on the counter from my mom that said, ¨I´ll be home soon¨. I dropped my bag onto a chair and headed upstairs to my room, like my aunt always told me to.
That night my mom didn't get home until 9:00. I had gone downstairs to go say hi to my mom after hearing her car pull in. When I got downstairs Mom was cooking. We were having a brief conversation when I heard my aunt's voice say, ̈Kill her, kill your mother and i´ll go away, I'll finally stop talking. Then, like magic my mom turned around back facing me, there was a knife on the table and I had the perfect opportunity to kill her. She was my mother; I couldn't just kill her. It was like two voices were talking at once, one being my mind that didn't want to kill her, and the other being my aunt ́s voice trying to persuade me. I wasn't going to do it, I couldn't do it, but, like a strike of lightning my mom flipped around and I grabbed the knife and shoved it into the center of her chest. Then I realized what I did and it all went dark.
The next thing I remember was sitting in a dark room. I could´ve been in the middle of the room or backed up against the wall but I couldn't tell. It felt cool and harsh as the shivers head up my spine making me cold beyond belief. There's a scream. I think it's mine. Is it? I grip my knee and forcefully take my nails and scratch them down, drawing blood. Then I felt their hands, a cold breeze came upon my left ear and I heard my aunt's voice, but now she was yelling. Then a cold hand crept around my shoulder. ¨I knew you could do it,¨ She says.
¨How did you know,¨ I yelled back into the darkness
¨Because child, you did the same thing to me a month ago.”