Sacred Whispers

When life starts to burn, and the pain returns.

I just wish that I could heal the hurt you feel tonight.

There's life in your veins. These needles are chains to hold you down.

How can you expect to win this war?

When you're too afraid to fight?

The soft weeping sounds of Anberlin leaked through her speakers as she closed her notebook, throwing it under the bed, with it all her thoughts and feelings went.

She lays back against her bed, retreating into her cold shell of a mind. She hears things. None of them good. She hears her parents arguing. Her little sister crying in her sleep. She hears the frustrated groan of her next door neighbor as he chokes down another beer.
She can hear the world. When she closes her eyes she can feel it too. The soft, but crushing pressure of the world on her shoulders. The creaking ache of her back, wondering how much more she can take.

"No." she silently whispers to herself as her cell phone vibrates across the bed, breaking the fragile silence.
She picks it up, seeing her boyfriends name light up across the screen. Hands shaking, she holds down the power button watching it power off.

She didnt want to deal with him. She didnt want to deal with anyone.
Now she closes her eyes yet again. This time she retreats to a peaceful place.

"Knoah," the familiar voice echoes inside her head.
Her eyes flutter open in surprise but she isn't in her room. Instead she's in a hospital. She looks on as a girl holds the hand of the elderly. This scene looks familiar she thinks until she realizes that the little girl is her and the woman in the bed is her grandma.

Her grandmother looks at her, not at the younger her, but past her, looking into the present. She has different eyes. Her eyes dont look tired and strained. They look youthful and reassured.

"Grandma," she breathes, releasing the refreshing sensation of hot tears stinging her face.
"Knoah, you are loved."

She closes her eyes, her breathing labored.
"Grandma, no."
"You are loved and destined for greatness,"

Knoah opens her eyes, turning to the digital clock beside her bed. It reads 4:45am. She sighs sitting up, rubbing her temples, wiping away the fragments of last nights dream. That same dream. She had it so many times over. It never faded, never changed.

It was the most horrid memories she'd had, yet it had been the pivotal point of her life.
Instinctivley she holds her hand up to her collar bone, running her finger down the cool metal of the cross that adorned her neck. It was her grandmothers before she died. The moment before she breathed her last she'd slipped it in between her hand, giving her the cross and with it generations of power.

4:50am
She shuts her eyes again, wishing she could just fall asleep again. But Knoah doesn't dwell long on that thought, she knows that sleep was scarce to stumble upon. Not just any sleep, but the dead sleep. The sleep where you dont feel, dream or think of anything. That was what Knoah prayed for.

Dragging herself out of bed she flips on a dim light. The light danced across the walls casting eerie shadows on the four walls of her bedroom. She shivers walking over to her dresser.

This hour of morning always put Knoah on edge. She looks in the mirror, her soul shaken by what she sees. A figure of darkness. She can make out a face, stark pale against the shock of black hair that cascaded around it. Knoah didnt know how to react so she stands there, gazing at the face in awe. The figures skin was a pale grey, as if it---she were a corpse. Her eyes were an opaque black, but they seemed to hold the lively burning fire of emotion.

"Knoah."

Knoah covers her ears as the girl parts her lips and a piercing scream escapes, it gets so loud she squeezes her eyes shut. Then it stops. Knoah blinks open her eyes looking around the room. For a moment she's afraid her parents will come dashing down the hall. But the mysterious feeling of relief washes over her when she gets the feeling that she was the only one who heard it.

She gazes back at the mirror to see that it had cracked. It started in the middle, but then expanded into many branches of a spider. Her first instinct: her mother was gonna kill her. Her second was that the mirror was the last of her worries.

5:30

Crap. She'd let time get away from her. Pushing the girl into the back of her mind, she tugged a pair of torn and faded jeans from her closet and a white tee from her dresser, dashing into the shower.

5:40, 5:45, 5:50, 5:55

She breaks out of the shower, creeping down the stairs.
She grabs her keys and they jingle softly at the disturbance as she heads out the door.

Its overcast outside. Pale, grey clouds loom gloomily overhead, the silent forewarning of rain she notes as she slides into the drivers seat of her car.

It wasn't anything special, just an old green honda, but it was faithful--every morning it started just the same, some days a little bit slower though.
Her car squeals in defiance as she breaks at the stop sign just outside of her neighborhood.

"C'mon baby," she coaxes, patting the dash board of the car.

It moves forward, jerkily at first as it warms up heading onto the road.

She pulls into the student parking lot of her high school with a neutral feeling. 3 years at this prison and her disposition toward the school never changed. She didnt love it.

She didnt hate it. And that was that. She just felt there was little point to it.
"Just like everything else in this life," she mutters as she steps out into the cold mid-November wind.
"All except for this," She smiles for the first time this morning as she steps up the ramp heading into the building. She throws her book bag down as

6:15

she steps into the art room. This was the one place in this school, in the universe, maybe that she could be herself in.

Mr. Halgren had agreed to let her come in early to allow her some free time. With anticipation and enthusiasm she moved over to her canvas. She studies it, sitting on the easel, and two pairs of beautiful pained eyes starred back at her. She lays out her brushes and oil paint, prepping herself to float into another world, to feel what the girl she was painting is feeling.

"You're here early."

A male voice brings her out of her world crashing back to reality. In her fright Knoah drops the brush. The wood makes a soft clanking sound against the hard floor.

"Didnt mean to scare you," a hand lands on her shoulder as she looks up. A pair of hazel eyes stare questioning back at her, she then realizes they belong to Garnet.

Garnet was a senior at Piper Glenn High along with Knoah. The two actually used to be friends up until sophomore year when their worlds seemed to drift apart, as do most friendships in high school.

"Oh, you're fine," she smiles at Garnet, not sure what to make of it all. Why was he here so early? This was definately odd, and there werent many things on this earth that could phase Knoah.

"You're painting."

Leave it to Garnet to state the obvious. The boy was cute, sweet and could get along in just about any crowd, but making small talk was not his forte.

"Is that you?" he asks.

Knoah looks at the painting in curiosity, she'd never thought about who she was painting. She then glances back at Garnet not sure what to say.
He opens his mouth as if he was going to speak when voices outside the class interrupt him. A head peaks through the door and Knoah recognizes it as one of the soccer players.

"Ey Garnet, work outs start in 5, you might wanna hustle bro," the head says.

Garnet nods,"Be there in a minute."

"You play soccer?" Knoah questions, not remembering him ever being on the soccer team, not that he wasnt athletic, she just never recalled him playing.

"Yeah, this year--well see you around," Garnet waves, jetting out the classroom.

"See yah," Knoah calls after after him, but she doubts he heard her.

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(uhh, this part goes more toward the middle)

"Fuck man, dont tell me that we've got some weird spirit or something after us," Israel rubs the palms of his hands into his eyes.
"I did not come all the way from California for this crap."

"Chill out Israel, it's not just you thats stuck in this," Emanuel rationalizes, slightly annoyed.
Korynne's anxious eyes darts around the art room nervously, not knowing what to make of all this.

"You're right E-Man," Israel states.
Emanuel looks up in slight confusion,"I am?" he questions.

"Yeah, clearly this is all her fault," Israel points at Knoah.
"Shut the hell up Israel, you've got no fucking clue what you're talking about," Garnet growls in Knoah's defense.

"Look Garnet, I'm being logical, all this started with her!" Israel snaps defensively.
Korynne covers her ears, not wanting in on the argument and Emanuel simply stares down at his feet.

"He's right."
Knoah barley realizes as her own frail voice interrupts their argument.
"What?" Israel and Knoah question simoltaneously.

"The spirit, it's somehow linked to me," she says.
Everyone exchanges looks around the circle, not knowing what to think.

"And our powers?" Korynne questions timidly.

"Not sure yet" Knoah shakes her head apologetically.

Garnet sighs, looking at Khoah,"Might as well tell them," he says.

Knoah smiles awkwardly,"The spirit is somehow linked to my grandmother,"

Emanuel nods for her to continue and Israel looked completely lost.

"I know that it's not here to hurt us," Knoah says.
Israel looks as if he might explode.

"You look like you have something to say Israel, might as well blab it out now," Garnet grumbles.

"How the hell can you say that thing isnt here to hurt us? The thing has tried to kill all of us at least twice!" he protests.
Knoah shakes her head at him,"If you'd listen then you that what was trying to hurt us was a completley different entity," Knoah says.