Her room was huge with a window overlooking the swimming  pool at the back of the house. It contained three items; her bed, her dressing mirror and stool and a footrug close to her bed. She had a small walk in closet at the right side of the room beside her bathroom. Both were oppsite the huge window that overlooked the backyard. She had never really had a thing for colours and had instructed that her room be painted white upon inquiry from her father during construction of the mansion. Her mum had thought the whole idea of white to be dull for someone as vibrant and bubbly and yet untidy as her, being an interior decorator. So her mum had worked her way into given her long pale yellow curtains for her room windows which she occasionally changed to blue or green depending on her mood.
At night she never liked the light in her room on even though it made the place look so breath taking. She liked the dark where no one could truly see her.
She lay in bed with the comforter thrown to cover only her feet. She had been tossing and turning half the night yet sleep had eluded her. She had finally settled on her back with her head facing up and her eyes looking to the ceiling. She recounted what had happened earlier in the day and realized if it wasn’t for his timely intervention she would have ended up dead by now. Most likely in a morgue at this moment. She shivered at the very thought and got up to grab the comforter to cover her whole body instead of just her feet.
She knew it wasn’t her fault. It was the voice she kept hearing. The images she kept seeing which no one else saw. The feelings of deep unsettling loneliness that rid her soul of any light.
She had heard the voice again this night…and it whispered into her ear. It felt comforting yet she felt a shudder within her.
What was all this, she asked herself.


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