“Aaaah!” The passersby all gathered around the shaking woman on the ground. The chatter of the residents quickly evolved into a worried mess as the police made their way to the centre of the crowd.

There, the lifeless, pale body of a young boy rested with bloody ears. He was barely ten years old, one of the many children that lived in the orphanage nearby.

“His ears! His ears are bleeding! It was him! Officer-” The woman kept trembling in fear and held her face, scared to continue…

_________________________________________________________________________

Vivian Everhart

“Ughhh! This darn suitcase!” I drag my stuff with difficulty, to the building that will be my new home, hoping that my back won’t break in two pieces.

I unlatch the small gate fixed on the metal fence and walk looking at my surroundings. My eyes linger on the view of a small garden with a few daisies scattered around, a cute little spot to relax during sunny days.

I hurriedly unlock the front door, excited to start my life over, far away from my hometown.

I push the door and my eyes start to shine with excitement at the sight of the interiors.

This is going to be my own space, all of it!

On the ground floor, there is an open-plan living space with a small kitchen, a living room, and a dining space.

The living room is furnished with a light grey sofa, a square glass coffee table, and a wall-mounted TV, the walls are coloured with white paint, and a few plants and shelves here and there, perfect for books and framed pictures.

The dining space has a two-seat wooden table with comfortable cushioned chairs. The kitchen is supplied with all the necessities, everything is completely new.

I chuckled, the thought of having my friends over for a girls’ night spent gossiping and baking, filled my heart with joy.

The sun delicately shined through the large windows, warming my skin and the soft chirping of the birds outside broke the silence.

My excitement increases as I run upstairs, dumping all my luggage, curious to see the rest of the house.

Upstairs there is a small room with a single bed, two wooden wardrobes, a desk with drawers, and a few shelves on the walls. The room also has an en suite modern bathroom for comfort, which might be a bit annoying if I have guests over when I hopefully make acquaintances here…well it’s not like I know anyone local for now and I know it’s going to take time…

Right, I have no one here… plus, my friends won’t be able to come before the autumn break, and there is still a WHOLE month left before it starts. At least I will have the time to read some of the new books I bought on my way here, considering that I’ve read all the books I had about twenty times.

Sigh.

I slap my cheeks with both hands, it’s not the time to be depressed, this is the reason I came here, to be free, to start my life over again.

My steps lead me to the most important room in this house, it’s just next to my bedroom, an empty room that I already have thousands of plans for. It will be my studio, I will fill it with books, artwork and ripped pages of my favourite poems.

Is this how it felt to have a secret hideout when I was a kid? I giggled.

It’s silent.

The tranquility is something I’m not used to. There's no one screaming, and it feels oddly quiet yet not uncomfortable. I remember how every word would lead to an argument, there wasn’t a room to feel protected in.

Am I crazy? Am I missing all the yelling? The guilt slowly makes its way into my heart.

No, I shouldn't feel like this. I deserve all this, deserve this peace.

I take a big breath and smell the fresh air. I feel at ease, the atmosphere isn’t so heavy anymore, compared to my old home…

This house has a nice scent, a scent full of freedom. A place where I wouldn’t have to be careful of each tread I made or scared of every word that came out of my mouth. I was finally away from all the pain I felt since I became aware of my environment, something that happened too early than it was supposed to. I became sensitive to the change of mood, the judging glares from relatives, and hungry for affection. I don’t remember the last time I felt happy in that place, or if I was ever happy there.

And now, after years of hesitation, I decided to finally do something about it. Despite still feeling guilt towards those who raised me and being scared of a new area and a change of career. Considering that all this led me to have a safe space, find a job that I like, and live life how I want to, especially in a city full of art and history like I always wished, makes me ecstatic.

Art is something amazing…something comforting.

I have always been attracted to art in general, paintings, sculptures, music, novels, and poetry. It has that mysterious power that evokes so many emotions. Something that can easily shake you from the inside, something that reminds you that you are not the only one, in whatever situation you might be in . You can share the pain, the happiness, and the grief of someone who might have lived years and years ago. Art evokes feelings that transcend time. I find comfort knowing that somewhere there is someone like me fighting for their wellbeing, or someone who shares my same passion for books.

Aahh! I’m so happy!

I toss my body on the soft bed and hug my cushion, smiling.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Buzz

I don’t need to check my phone to know who this is.

Ruby: You forgot to text me, you ungrateful human.

You were the one who wanted to call -_-

One of my best friends, Ruby, texts me, punctual as usual.

I don’t know what would’ve been of me if I hadn’t met her; her quirkiness and positive energy radiate through all the walls.

I met her nine years ago at school. The shy eleven-year-old me, who did not know how to make friends or have proper social interactions, let herself go for the first time. I was so excited that we listened to the same song that had been stuck in my head, and when I found out she liked it too, I jumped out of my seat during music class just to talk to her about how much I loved the lyrics.

I laughed at the old memories. Nearly a decade has passed since then.

I decide to call her. I'm very surprised at my change in character now that I have left home. Somehow, I feel more... energetic? Talkative?

I was always very careful and of a few words. I could not even think of calling my friends at my parents’ house, they would always find a way to eavesdrop on every conversation. Their way of “checking that I wasn’t doing anything bad”.

I would always hang up any incoming calls; yes, I was that friend. The “just text me” kind. In my defence, it’s not because I hated calls. I love calls so much that now I sound like the desperate ex who needs attention and asks to call at least ten times every minute. The change was fast and started as soon as I took my first stride out of that damned place.

I’m brought back in the present when Ruby finally picks up the call.

“Hey, Ruby! Sorry I was distracted by the new house, it looks amazing, it’s so cosy and nice here-”

“Yes, yes, amazing house, and everything- oh you need to give us a tour, of course... also talking about serious stuff. Your parents?”

“No, they haven’t called, and I don't intend to speak with them even if they did try to call. I don’t like how I react to their voices and their words. They make me anxious, angry, and depressed all the time. You know how much I hate confrontation, as much…as it’s selfish-”

“Vivi, it’s not selfish, I’m glad we are finally on the same page. They do not deserve your pity. You feel responsible over them because of the position that was forced on you. You were never their parents, you were the child and needed guidance. Think about it, you feel some kind of duty towards them, but they never did, so don’t say you’re selfish, ever again”.

I smile, understanding her words.

“Okay, okay… Miss Therapist” I chuckled. “By the wayyy, have you seen what Miya sent to the group?” I completely forgot to check all the notifications. “No, I haven’t seen, one sec”.

I open the group chat on WhatsApp and check what Ruby was talking about.

Miya is mentally ill x:

Miya: @Me bro you sure you chose the right place to move to?

“What is she talking about?” I’m confused. Why? Is there something I have to worry about? “Vivi… the link, she sent a link about an article”. I notice the link and click it. “Sorry, lol, my bad.”.

The article talks about a series of alleged murders, several people were found dead in different parts of the town. I gasped in disbelief, then sighed in relief as I read the response from the police, who denied the contents of the article entirely. And they stated that they would be pressing charges if journalists kept fabricating lies and posting them online.

“The police denied everything, they said it’s not true, so there’s nothing to worry about.” After all, social media works like that, there is always fake info everywhere. “But Vivi, it doesn’t make sense for people to write about something like a series of murders out of the blue. I get that people crave attention but there are so many other things to talk about”. I can’t disagree with Ruby on that.

I think about what she said for a few seconds, but then I quickly brush her statement off.

“The police said nothing happened; maybe something did happen but it wasn’t major? It talked about a series of murders, maybe... it was just one person who died and the media is trying to make the situation look worse than it seems-

“Aaaah!”

My conversation is interrupted by a sudden scream. “What the hell was that?” Ruby’s voice crackled through the phone.

I gaze towards the window; just a few metres away, a small crowd had gathered. “I have no idea; I’m checking what’s happening from the window; I can only see a small crowd.”

The atmosphere changed in an instant, and something started to feel very wrong. Without a second thought, I quickly put my shoes on and dash outside the house to check the confusion, with Ruby still on the line.

As I neared, I could feel the tension heavy in the air, the locals’ chatter getting slowly louder, and their hands comforting each other in a hug or a pat on the back.

“You still there? What’s happening?” Ruby’s voice echoed.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m just trying to figure that out. People don’t look too happy,” I say as my attention keeps changing from my friend to the chaos on the street.

The police finally arrived and made their way through the crowd; the space started to clear, and I finally got a better grasp of the situation. There is a woman on the ground, her face full of tears. She is pointing towards... something... no... someone?

A small child is lying just a few inches away from her; his eyes are tightly shut together, his skin is pale, and he doesn’t seem to be moving at all.

My breathing stops for a few seconds as I witness this horrible scene.

“His ears! His ears are bleeding! It was him! Officer-” The woman kept trembling in fear and held her face.

My eyes darted from one direction to the other, trying to analyse the situation. All I see is fear on people’s faces.

Why isn’t anyone calling an ambulance? Why is everyone just standing there and whispering?

I hold my phone up; my arm feels heavy. But I need to hang up and call the ambulance. Calm down, Vivian, breathe.

Before I can do so, one of the officers tells us to stand back.

“Please move away from the corpse and let the police do their jobs!” My arm loses its strength and falls to my side. That’s why…he’s already…

“Vivian?! I’m getting worried! Hey!” Ruby uttered anxiously.

With the same pace as a snail, I struggle to get my phone closer to my ear. It’s hard to get any kind of sound out of my lips. I can whisper only one word to describe the situation: “Dead…”

The screams from the officers ordering everyone to leave started to sound distant, the residents making their way into their homes, every little action felt ten times slower, and only one voice was crystal clear.

The same woman who was sitting on the ground next to the child’s body, was begging the officers to believe her. “It was him, officer! Please, please believe me!” The officers looked awkward and tried to reassure her, but she didn’t want to hear any of it.

“Miss, please let’s not say ridiculous things; someone died here. Have some respect. You are probably shocked; you should return home and get some rest,” one of the officers said, trying to be as empathetic as he could.

I am still in disbelief, standing in the middle of the road, trying to process the horrible incident that occurred just two seconds ago.

“Vivi? Vivi? Hey! Talk to me!”

“He’s…dead…”