My mother and I have always been close. We tend to move around a lot, and she could never really hold a solid job, but no matter what, no matter the financial situation, no matter where we lived, no matter who else was there, we always had each other. I love my mother-she always tried her best to keep us safe. It was hard, traveling about, just two young women, but we made it work. She was my rock and I was hers.
Around the time I was 15 she finally got the money together to get a down payment on a proper house, finally giving us one constant in life. Move in was easy, we had little furniture, a few possessions, and overall were just moving the items of 2 people. We didn’t have many delicate items to move- my mother banned all mirrors, most books, and most cosmetics.
We got everything all set up, and haven’t made many adjustments since. Everything was fine for the first month or so, then the noises started. It started in the walls, the small scratching noises. We assumed it was rats, or roaches, or some other form of small pest. We couldn’t afford an exterminator, and for sure couldn’t afford to have the walls messed with, so we cut a portion of wall off in the living room and poured drain cleaner in it, hoping whatever was in there would consume it and die off, making our lives quieter. When the noises persisted, we kept adding things-vinegar, peroxide, bleach, baking soda, anything, hoping that maybe at least it will form some sort of gas that the pest could inhale. Still, nothing. It was hard to tell what we were up against, anyway, because while there were always scurrying noises, the size of what was causing them always seemed to change. It would sound as though a small ant was in there, then later sound as though God himself was trying to get out. We eventually gave up, deciding that whatever was in there wasn’t doing anything besides making noise. We had cut a hole in every room, nearly every room, and still found nothing.
The house was nearly inhospitable at that point, as every time we cut a hole, we poured whatever we could find in it, causing a stench to permeate the house. By the time you grew used to the scent, we would need to cut another hole, and therefore, more, new poisons to breathe in. We couldn’t leave the house-my mother would surely be attacked if I left her alone, as would I if the roles were reversed. We couldn’t leave together-that would make it too easy for them to take us both at the same time. We were both on the more petite size-something that tends to happen to you when near every food will make you sick, so it wouldn’t be hard to just pick us up and throw us in the back of that small green hatchback car, always circling the block, always slowing down.
That’s why we had to keep the windows always closed. We couldn’t go upstairs because the stairway window didn’t have curtains, and it would be too much of a risk to be in front of the window long enough to install a curtain rod, and besides, women can’t do handiwork like that, and we didn’t have a man in the house, so we would have to get a worker in the house, and that could never happen. Even with the windows covered we couldn’t go upstairs, because they would hear us walking around, it would be easier for them to hear our footsteps overhead.
We ended up boarding off the downstairs bedroom, one specific floorboard always creaked, which means it had been tampered with, which means there was some sort of recording device in it.
It quickly became unbearable in there- the boredom was the biggest piece of it. No technology-obviously, but we also couldn’t have so much as books-it was easy to become engrossed in it, we would get distracted, and wouldn’t be able to keep a proper watch on our surroundings
We boarded off the basement, for obvious reasons-there were always noises, and the lighting down there was non-existent, so who knows what could be down there. Enough said.
And that’s how we lived-huddled together in the living room, lights out so they couldn’t see we were in there, windows blocked out, no distractions, only the fear. The world isn’t safe. The world will continue to be unsafe. The world will continue to be unsafe.