Whisper

Trailer included!!

http://youtu.be/DBuRdG6TFxk

Chapter one - Henri

I take a long drag on the cigarette, exhaling slowing before reaching down to grasp the handle of the paintbrush.

Raising it, I pause to stare hard at the painting before me. As I do, paint runs down my forearm and drips from my elbow to the ground covered in newspaper below me.

Already the face has become deformed, just like every other one I’ve ever done before it. I reach a point where I actually like my work and then feel the need to add more... and every time I do, I ruin it.

I take the cigarette from my mouth as I swipe the brush across the forehead, changing to perfect – albeit slightly bushy – eyebrows into one thick mono-brow.

With a sigh that’s more snarl, I throw the brush to the ground, slamming my free hand into the wall, leaving a black handprint across his – or maybe her? – cheek.

I jump in surprise at the sudden knock to the door.

“Sorry honey; didn’t mean to scare you.” Mum smiles apologetically. The warm, familiar scent of her channel perfume rolls off her skin and drifts across the room towards me.

“No, it’s fine. What’s up?” I press my hand into my hip, discreetly hiding my cigarette behind my back. Although mum knows I smoke, I don’t tend to flaunt it in front of her.

“I was just wondering if you’d come down stairs to meet the neighbours with me.” There’s a slight tint of ‘pretty please’ to her voice.

I give her a look, my head tilting to the side before I glance down at myself. White dungarees covered in splatters of paint and totally destroyed converses. “Mum, do you honestly want to introduce your neighbours to your crazy, messy daughter?”

“Of course I do silly.” She laughs. “They’ll love you either way.”

“Do I have to?” I hate the whining note to my voice but the thought of meeting people makes me a little sick.

She nods her head. “Yes, you do. So come on.”

“Mum...” I try once more, gesturing to the painting.

“Please?” She pulls a face, the lines around her mouth and eyes visible.

“Fine, I’ll be down in a second.” I mutter.

She beams and blows me a kiss before turning and leaving. When she does, I take a quick glance around my messy bedroom. Then I look down at I’m wearing and at the painting.

Finally, with a flutter of my hands and a sigh of exasperation, I wipe my hands down my dungarees and follow my mum.

Downstairs, I enter our living room to find the leather settee occupied by a couple. I find it almost impossible to tell their age – and I’m normally very good with ages.

I smile tightly at them, feeling that familiar burst of panic in my chest. Their smiles in return are easy and bright. I feel an overwhelming sense of relief when I notice they don’t have any children with them.

“Hi.” I say quietly, standing beside mum who’s sitting on the leather chair matching the settee.

“Hello.” The woman replies.

Automatically, I take in the structure of her face, the high cheek bones, the raven black hair and the way her eyes gleam with healthiness.

“Well Audrey, Derek – this is my daughter Henri.” Mom smiles at them both, her face the perfect amount of friendliness.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to the neighbourhood.” Derek’s smile reminds me of rainbows. It simply shines with happiness.

His hair is cut short and swept neatly across his forehead, with small glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

“Unfortunately our son was too busy to come over today...” They share a small glance and a tight smile before continuing. “He’s actually around your age.”

Of course at the mention of this, I feel my face drop. I swallow nervously, clasping my hands together, twisting and wringing them. Exactly what I don’t need.

I’ve never really been one for... people. Ever since I first started to interact with others, I’ve suffered from cripplingly shyness. At my last school they called it being ‘socially awkward’. It's only when I first meet people. I find that after being with them for a while - I grow more comfortable around them, feel a little more like myself. Unfourtunately, to actually get in the position to know them well, I have to get to know them first.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” I feel my face twitch into an uncomfortable smile.

“So, I can already tell from your accents that you’re both British...” Audrey smiles, her face almost stretching.

“Oh, yes, we’ve been here for the past three years but we lived in Britain before that. We moved over here when I got a job promotion and...”

As mum continues to tell them every aspect of her job and what it includes, I feel my gaze and attention being drawn away and towards the direction of a box. One I must have missed. My fingers begin to itch as I stare at the familiar scrawl.

I know exactly what’s in it. It’s the only box I’ve been missing. My photographs and my posters.

I chew on my nails, tucking my hand into my armpit, wanting more than anything to get over there and snatch it up – to take it upstairs and begin sorting through it.

“Are you alright Henri?” Mum asks, her voice slightly strained. I know she wants me to be polite but I can’t focus, can’t concentrate on these people.

“Uh, sorry, I’ve got something to do.” I force myself to give a strained smile to the couple.

Then, I rush across the room, grasp the box and almost run back up to my room.

Once safely within my walls, I drop to my knees beside my window. I let out an inhuman yell of frustration when I can’t get the tape off. Finally, I resort to biting through it with my teeth. Finally, splayed before me are a few thousand Polaroid pictures and at least twenty rolled up posters.

I glance around the room as I shift to sit cross-legged. Right now, everything’s pretty bland. Whites walls, curtains and duvet. But already I can picture my photographs and posters covering the walls, giving it a little more personality.

The only thing that’s stopping my room from being a hospital room is my TV, my DVD’s and my comics. My eyes skim over the various items.

X-Files, Evolution, Captain America, The Matrix, X-Men... the list could go on for miles. The comics are similar to a sense. Mainly Marvel – DC’s okay but I’ve always preferred Marvel. X-Men, Batman, etc...

Each photograph is similar to a sense. Each and every one is a face of some sort, whether twisted and distorted or blurred and soft. In the last house, I did the same thing I’ve been doing all today. I pick one wall in my bedroom and keep it entirely white. Until I paint that it, creating some variation of a face. Then, I take a picture, paint it white – and start all over again.

Before I can begin to sort my posters, shouting interrupts, loud and muffled. I pause, cocking my head to the side slightly as I attempt to focus on the sound. Boys – two or three maybe... being very loud.

Curious, I stand and make my way over to the window. I peer into the garden next door, which must be Audrey and Derek’s since the other side is abandoned.

Looking over, I spot the three boys instantly – roughly the same age as myself. All three of them are dressed as freaking Superhero’s.

“Now prepare yourself – Almighty Man is here to finish you off... once and for good!” One of them, voice muffled but decipherable through the glass, yells.

I watch as he throws himself at one of the other boys, wielding one of those foam swords. They fall to the floor, hitting one another with the swords whilst a third boy films them.

I can’t help but notice how each of them are wearing brightly coloured tights and capes. One of them – I’m unable to differ one from the other since my eyesight is possibly the worst in the world – staggers towards the camera.

“Muahaha! I have won – finally, I have defeated the Almighty Man! Octomontrosity has finally won!”

His shouts of ‘That’s not fair! You’re already dead! You can’t do that!” are so serious when the other climbs back up and lunges at him, knocking him to the ground, that I find myself laughing. Laughing louder than I mean to.

Instantly, all three of their heads jerk up in my direction. Feeling my heart jerk in my chest and my laughter come to an abrupt end, I drop to the ground – efficiently smacking my head off the windowsill.

Groaning in pain, I clutch my head. God I’m such an idiot! When the throbbing finally resides, I manage to look up and out the window – and they’re still staring up at me. I drop again and this time, rather than attempt to resurface, I crawl over to my bed and decide to hide there for a while.