Page 1 of Borrowed
BORROWED
by SK Pryntz
They told me he wasn’t real.
That he’d died and wasn’t coming back.
They said it in a slow way, as if I was too broken to understand syllables properly.Said it with tilted heads and small voices, like speaking louder might shatter my skull.
But I remembered the way his voice sounded in the dark.
I remembered the weight of him sitting at the edge of my bed.
I used to wake up with the sheets still warm from where he’d lain.
That can’t be pretend, can it?
The room they gave me was called ‘intake.’Dolly said I would get another soon, but I only heard her cross swing like a clock.
Tick-tock.
It hung around her neck like Mother’s.Like a noose.The area was white: white walls, white bed, white light from the ceiling that buzzed like bees trapped in glass.I didn’t like it, but I was a good girl, so I smiled when they asked if I was comfortable.
“It’s nice,” I said.“It smells like bleach and tears.”
Mother didn’t laugh.Her face looked tight, like a balloon, right before it burst.Father cleared his throat and stared at the corner of the room like he couldn’t quite bear to look at me.It was like if he did, he might see Toby beside me again.
“Tabitha, you’ll be staying here for tonight, darling.Your next room will have a friend to talk to until the doctors feel it is safe to take you home for a visit day.”
Home.
Home is where I feel safe.
Not here.
Not the quiet white walls.
“The walls don’t speak here, Mother.”
Her face tightened further, and she looked at Father, who scowled like angry hornets when he looked at me.
“You’re in here because of him, you wretched child.You killed him!I know you did.I just want him back.Our boy.Not you.You’re delusional, and I hope you die here in silence!”
Death wasn’t silent.Death talked.But these walls didn’t talk at all.They were too quiet.The walls at home were loud, like broken glass slowly slipping piece by piece until it fell to the ground.
Cracking.
Cracking.
Drop.
Toby.Toby.Toby.
The circular pillsmy mother made me take were bitter.Maybe they were why the walls didn’t talk.They didn’t like the bitter taste of the pills.
“When is Toby coming back?”
Mother turned away, tears falling from her cheeks like raindrops.Father looked like a red tomato, his skin color matching the blush I felt crawling over my cheek.His hand did wicked things sometimes.
