My eyes squinted at the light. It had been a long time since the shades of my too small window had shed a bit of light into my too small room; letting shadows split in two and dance across the walls. A scowl rested upon her face as she leaned against the off-white wall, staring directly into the sunlight. Her dark figure emanated a confident feel as she snorted in disgust. “First,” she sighed, tucking a dark lock behind her ear. “Secrets are called secrets for a reason.”
I rolled my eyes as I stood, painting on the other side of the room, irritated by how blunt she could be. Well, that’s an obvious statement... “And your point is…?”
“My point is just that… secrets are not supposed to be told—ever. Though, if you keep them long enough, you’ll become a meal for yourself,” she adjusted her position on the wall. “It’ll eat you away. Just like it is now.” Her scowl transformed into a grin, but it wasn’t a friendly grin. It was the sort of grin that made you cringe inwardly and made my hand falter while making a brush stroke. It was a smile crafted from the enemy’s dreams.
These facts gnawed at my mind like they normally do; I dare not show it, not while she’s around. “Well,” I said nonchalantly. “We’re both being eaten up by the same beast, eh?”
Like a flash from a camera, she was at my side, causing my steady hand to cause dips in the tree branches I was making. She laughed, and the room seemed to grow incredibly smaller, if that was possible. “Ambrosia, you’re all together lacking qualities of a good human being. You try to tone things down, act like they’re no big deal—like you are now. You do enough acting in your life to hide your fears to make a career out of it, but you can’t hide things forever.” She picked up a brush and felt the tip with her forefinger and thumb. “We both know how you snap when you lose control… it’s just a matter of time before,” she snapped the paintbrush in my face and grinned. “You snap.”
Rosia’s voice was on beat with the tick of the clock. I shrugged her off, mixing a few colors to heighten the appeal of my painting. I steadied one hand with the other, trying to concentrate on the task before me and not the distraction beside me. When I finished, I stood an inch back and admired the way the artificial light hit the scenery the way it does in the movies. I fiddled with my necklace, feeling alone at last— as if I could finally breathe again… maybe she’s gone.
“Stop that.” Her voice lost its playfully harsh tone, and when I uneasily glanced up, her murky eyes smoldered with revulsion as she slapped my hand away from my necklace. “See, this is what I meant about your absurdity. I am here to stay, can’t you accept that? Think of me as your sense of realism.” She paused and tapped her head. “A sense of realism you can’t get rid of.”
I shrugged her off once again and with a sigh I set my brush in a cup of water to wash out the paint. I took several steps to reach the wall where she once was and leaned on my RED poster myself; shivering from a distressing breeze on the back of my neck even though it’s mid-summer right now in my small part of Antimony, Utah. I looked up, trying to lead the tears back into my eyes, but I could no longer control it as they fell like bullets from my face and landed heavily on my wrist.
Rosia smirked. “Is everything alright? Or did you finally realize the true power of the beast? Continue to feed it like you do, and it’ll keep coming back, stronger, better… hungrier.”
It always does… you make sure of it. I wiped a tear and attempted to stand straighter as all the bones in my body cried out to curl up in bed. “I’m fine. Though, I think it’s time for some… adjustment…” I shrugged as I walked silently towards the too small window, letting in fewer rays of light.
She scoffed. “Ambrosia,” she gestured towards the mirror. “You haven’t changed since you were 12—you’re 15 now. What makes you think—hey, what are you doing?” Silently I closed the shades holding in tears as Rosia disappeared, leaving nothing more but a few curses to her name. I dialed my mom’s number on the home phone and waited for the ring to die away.
“Mom?” I whimpered, gaining frantic questions from my mom. “Yeah, no—no… Yeah mom, can I… can we talk?”
“Sure-- of course, Rosia. What’s going on?” the noise of the office area died down, signaling she was alone.
“First, please call me Ambrosia—Rosia never settled well with me. And… it’s a long
story.” It’s time to starve the beast.