Everyday is the same, I dread leaving the house every morning, if I stop they know that I know, they know I can see right through the lies. I live by the system but is terrified of it, they always whisper before I meet them, they whisper all the things they do to those who do not follow the rules. I learn fast, now I too whisper, they do not notice I just whisper random words.
When I talk to one of them they stop whispering, they start to fit in, making small talk, but they do not mean it. Their faces give it away, they have no features, I like to draw them sometimes, I draw the body then the face, and then I take my black crayon and rubb it all over the face. They do not think I see their masks, they are wrong.
Work is hell, I am terrified, they stare at me, but I sit whispering and they do not suspect.
While the days are the same I can cope with them, it is the night’s that hurt me, because they do not lie then.
I dream the same dream, every night I sit in a chair, on the floor or lay in a bed, sometimes the same chair, oftentimes it is a different one. The room is never the same, it has windows but I cannot see through them, there is always a door but it never opens.
The do not lie when I sleep, they say they know I don’t fit in, they say they know I know, they crawl everywhere their limbs bend ways they are not supposed to. My dreams do not make sound, but I can still hear them talk, they crawl on the walls in silence watching me with their dark faces.
I cannot see their faces but I know they are looking at me. They crawl all in separate directions but I know they are all headed to me.
Every dream ends when they reach me, so I wake up sweating and screaming, but then I remember, I must fit in.
I stop screaming and I start to whisper, and they do not notice, they do not know that I know.
I draw them everyday now, they are all different, man, woman or child. All different except for their faces, the faces are black fog, so I draw them that way.
I think my neighbour knows that I know, but she has not told anyone, not yet. I went to her and tried to convince her, I showed her how good I was at whispering, how good I was at fitting in. That was a mistake, she got me, she said she knew I knew.
I grabbed the knife out of her hand and stabbed the black fog, slashing at it until it left her face, I freed her. Now she understands, she does not whisper anymore, and she does not lie.
I am safe now. The dreams still come but I try to go out less. I am very good at whispering but they still stare, but they do not know that I know.