creativecat
03-22-2011, 06:40 PM
The conversation had gone on all night. Only now, with the faint morning light creeping towards the House, did she sleep. Nuns had told her ‘it would not take long’, nuns had lied. Her eyes drowsily scanned the top of the wall opposite. Then the part of the ceiling attached to it. The rest of the ceiling swept out of sight over her head to cling to the wall behind her. She was tired. Sitting up all night with no chair, her back set, curved against a wall. Talking. Talking. Always talking. Always something more demanded to be said. She couldn’t stop them. The words would come up. They emboldened more words. The ones that had softly lain deeper down her throat. The ones she had thought she could keep, silent, and almost still, inside her. But they all came, more and more. Until she had no strength to push them out, she would collapse back on to her bed. The creeping light, and she would lie in a sleepless daze. Then they would gather there, together, in the hollow of her throat. They would wait, jangling together. And again she would have to speak. The words, not hers, they would fall on empty walls. Softly, softly, nuns walked by. Her pills. Gone. Sleep.