The Room is Quiet

March 5, 2008
By Kadisha Phillips, Rochester, NY

The room is quiet. You’re sitting there; head down smothered in a pillow. Lights flicker making a silhouette heart on the wall as your sobs become louder with every second. Someone knocks on your door; you make no effort to answer said knock. The soul on the other side of the passageway soon leaves not saying a word. I wonder who that was. You think. Suddenly your black cellular phone starts to ring; you can not navigate it in such darkness so you rise from your crying place and turn on the light. Tears and snot running down your face you quickly find the phone and put the continuous ringing to sudden an end.

“Hello” You say as if everything is just peachy.
“Hey baby what-” You cut off the deep manly voice.

“Stop calling me! I don’t want to talk to you!” You scream enraged in fury and anger.
“I’m sorry! I never meant -” You cut off his plead for forgiveness by closing the phone and throwing it out through the window. The tears and sobbing return; you lie back down on the bed. Within a five minute period you fall into a deep sleep reliving the day. The day that brought your relationship with said person who has a deep manly voice, to an end.

You’re stalling, you’re stalling! Come on walk down the street, you’ve walked this far already! You have to see him it’s been three days since you last kissed; your lips need to touch his; your hands need to lock with his; and your body needs to be pressed against his. You love him and he loves you so there is nothing wrong with a surprise visit. You think to yourself.

So you start walking down the street and as you approach his house you see a car unidentifiable to you. You think nothing of it and you start to climb the stairs. Noises are coming from the area in which his bedroom is and you start to wonder. Quickly coming up with the assumption that it is his niece and nephew jumping up and down on the bed you proceed and knock on the door. There is no answer. You knock again; he is in there and you know it. Again there is no answer, you’re becoming frustrated. You depart from upon the steps, and start to dig under the one tiny rose bush out front. A key is what you find; a key to the front door. Quickly you climb the steps and unlock the door. You push but there is something stopping your anticipated entrance. So he thinks he’s smart now does he. You think. Soon we’ll both know how smart he really is. Giving up you go to the back door banging on the windows and continuously opening and shutting the screen door. Still after the amount of ruckus that you have made there is not even the slightest notion of an answer. You return to the front of the house and re-climb the steps. Again you are attempting to enter the house. You push harder and harder on the door budging the item which is working against you. There is now a small opening which you can slide into. So you enter. In the air is a strange fragrance- a womanly fragrance one which you have never worn before so its existence shouldn’t be. “Come on Snookers, come out, come out wherever you are!” you yell.
“Uh, h-h-hey baby” says your ‘Snookers’ in-between pants, as he is attempting to block the entryway from the living room into the kitchen. You lean to give him a kiss but that strange fragrance is on him along with a red mark placed on his neck. Anger is building up inside you and you slap him in the face. “What was that for?” he asks.
“You know what boy; you’re not even worth the trouble anymore.” You say rather calmly and start to walk out the door. Something tells you to turn around and as you do you see a girl in the person formerly known as Snookers’ shirt sneaking out the back door. There is your solid proof; Snookers is cheating on you…

You wake seizing the moment. The anger that built up in you that very moment that you saw the red mark on his neck and smelt the womanly fragrance on his body is returning. Then you clean yourself up and drive over to his house. When you get there you stop for a second and think. You’re thinking about what you and he had, and how he burned you; how he ripped out your paper heart and then tore it in half. Mid-thought you get out of the car and you open the trunk removing the cooking oil. Then you pour said cooking oil around the perimeter of the house and also on the sides. In your pocket is a lighter which you light up and set fire to some of the oil doused grass. The fire spreads quickly; all you are doing is standing there proud of yourself captivated by the flames. Soon you’re ex boyfriend ‘Snookers’ pulls up, and in amazement of what you have done he drops to the ground crying. Collecting his self he gets up and starts to strangle you, waking you from your trance. Gasping for air you lift your right leg up and fling it backwards in the right angle hitting him in a very hurtful place. Then he drops to the ground crying even more.

In-between sobs he’s yelling “What’s wrong with you girl!?” You’re looking at him and you’re laughing. Then you whisper ‘I love you’ so that he can read your lips. His glare pierces your heart but it didn’t hurt because there was no more pain that he can inflict on it.
“You burned me, so I burned your house!” you scream then entering a state of wild cackling whiles you walk away and then drive off.

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