The Secret
237 Words
Chapter Fifteen
Secrets feel heavier at night. Maybe itâs the silence, or the way shadows stretch across my bedroom walls, like they know something I donât.
I lie on my bed, the note resting under my pillow, as if keeping it close could keep me safe. But the truth presses harder than paper ever could. Itâs in the way I dress and the way I hesitate when someone says my name. Itâs in the ache of wanting to be seen but not knowing what people would see if I let them look.
Sometimes I imagine telling someoneâmy mom, my dad, Mariah, even a stranger on the bus. The words form in my throat: I donât know what I am. I donât know who I am. But they never make it past my lips.
Because once you let a secret out, you canât pull it back in.
I sit up, staring at my reflection in the dark window. My own face stares back, pale in the glass, doubled by the night. I mouth the words silently, just to hear the shape of them: âI think I might beâŠâ The sentence breaks apart before it finds its end.
The secret sits between me and my reflection, alive and unfinished. It waits, patient and sharp, knowing itâs only a matter of time before I canât hold it in anymore.
And that terrifies me more than anything
- Writer
