𝐬𝐢𝐩

𝙞 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥. i lie in bed, listening to the crickets outside my window. i stare at the ceiling, thinking about something—i swear i was thinking about something. what was it again? 𝙢𝙮 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙘𝙝 𝙝𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙨. i think i'm hungry, but i don't want to eat—maybe i just need some sleep. i turn beneath the sheets, trying to force my eyes shut. the fabric wrinkles beneath me with every movement, accompanied by the quiet creak of the bed whenever i shift my weight. 𝙞 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣'𝙩 𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨. i'm thirsty, but i don't want to drink—my favorite show is on, but i'm uninterested in watching the tv. oh, and our dog hasn't eaten anything either. i don't have anything to feed him. i haven't heard his bark in a while. i wonder what he's doing? maybe he's just sleeping. i should get some sleep too. ────────────────────────────────────────── 𝙞 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣'𝙩 𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣... 𝙨𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙬? it has been a week and a half since i last saw my parents. why haven't i seen them since? i hope they come home soon—there's nothing to eat here anymore, and i'm running out of water too. our dog has been quiet recently. he sleeps most of the time now. i touched him once. he was a bit cold—maybe i should get him a blanket next time. the room has gone dark. it's cold. i used to love playing with my toys, but now they don't interest me anymore. they're still scattered around the room, exactly where i left them. what a shame. ────────────────────────────────────────── 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣... 𝙖𝙝, 𝙞 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧. i haven't eaten or drunk anything in a long time. i think i'm supposed to feel hungry, but i don't feel anything at all. i can't remember the last time i saw my parents. i started hearing voices somewhere along the way—sometimes they whisper, sometimes they repeat themselves, and sometimes they tell me things i don't understand. 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙡𝙡 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝. it says the same thing over and over. i don't know how long i've been listening. i don't know how long i've been here. i'm getting tired now. i think i'll close my eyes for a while. ────────────────────────────────────────── i wake up and hear a voice in the room. 𝙢-𝙢𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙮? i hear a voice. that... sounds like mommy. 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙘𝙪𝙥𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧. 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙚𝙡𝙨𝙚. 𝙖 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙚𝙩? why does she smell the same as she did when i last saw her? she looks the same. that annoying, loving smile is still there. 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙢𝙚. the mattress sinks beneath her weight. i'm tired. i realize it has only been two days—contrary to the insurmountable amount of time i believed it had been since i last saw her. 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙖 𝙨𝙞𝙥 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙘𝙪𝙥, talking about her day. mommy— can't you see i'm tired? 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙞𝙥. okay— stop. 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧. i look at her cup. 𝙞𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙡. 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙞𝙥. 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧. 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧. okay. perhaps i'll listen. 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙨 𝙨𝙞𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜. the glass never empties. perhaps this is nice as well. someone is still here. 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙜𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙨 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙚𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙨— 𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙨. she eventually places the cup in my hands. it's cold. kind of? i almost forgot how to hold it. the water trembles against the rim. i take a sip. then another. it hurts to swallow. but i do. and for the first time in what feels like forever, 𝙞 𝙖𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙮. ────────────────────────────────────────── . Written by John Vien Cendaña Layout by Marie Izabelle Callo