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"Lyri..."
Hearing my mother's voice calling out my name, I turned to her. She was pregnant. I suppose what she called me for was to help her out of the car. I reached my hand out, helped her out the best I could. I smiled at her. Her voice reached me, praise or apology, I couldn't tell. All just static.
I wonder, why did they bother changing houses at a point where they need stability? But maybe I shouldn't ask that as a fourteen-year-old. Or should I? Ah, how confusing. I picked up a box, then brought it inside. Again, why? Mm... father told me to. Oh, makes sense. Oh wait, does it? Why do I have to listen to him? Because he's my father? Mm... no, you just don't know.
I was inside now. The house was painfully ordinary from the outside. But the inside. This is satisfactory. Good on you, my parents, on moving here. Static. Again. Oh, I'm doing as they tell me again. But oh well, I'll be free afterwards. Since I haven't decided they aren't for me, I won't stop.
The night had come by the time the two had finished unpacking. Isn't it dangerous to work while pregnant? Maybe it wasn't, why else would they do it? It's almost time for Lyric to come out.
"Lyric, you should go sleep, love."
"Ah, of course, Father."
Another smile. That should be enough, right, me? Mm... Lyric, you can sleep like he told you to. I, Lyric... will do the exploration for us.
Lyric was a strange girl. She'd always question everything, but never seek the answers to it. But I am not like that. I only find questions for the answers I get. I wonder, how does mother's other her sound like? Maybe I'll never know, because just like Lyric, she doesn't want anyone to know it. Or maybe she doesn't have one? But that'd be weird, wouldn't it? Oh well. Questioning things is Lyric's job.
I walked past the room my parents had chosen to rest in, quietly. I could hear their conversation, something about how formal Lyric was. Or maybe they were talking about Lyric as in me? No, but they've never met me.
But I didn't listen long. Their talks didn't interest me as much as what I felt from the middle of the house. A presence of a being.
The air was heavier there. Still and close, like the walls were holding something in.
Pant. Pant.
It was hurried breathing. Was it scared?
"You are scared, right?"
Pant. Pant.
"Thought so. I didn't know houses could be scared."
Pant. Pant.
"How can I understand you?"
"I can't. I only need to give meanings to your breaths."
If I truly believed the house was breathing heavily to speak like so, then it was so, wasn't it? No, it was.
"I can't help you. Maybe you should ask Lyric, House."
I am not allowed to meet anyone for long. That was Lyric's job, her job to question. Mine is to find answers.
"You want to meet her?"
Oh well. Maybe it was good for her to have some time at night too. Mm... yes, I'll go to sleep instead.
Why had I woken up? Lyric wants me to be here? Why? Okay... I'll listen.
Pant. Pant.
"What are you so scared of, Mr. House?"
Pant. Pant.
I sat down, listening to the numerous pants and breaths that came after. The sound filled the hallway the way water fills a low place, soft and everywhere at once. It really was interesting to hear what the house had to say.
"I see, Mr. House... you don't like whatever my parents are planning in the house, right?"
Pant.
"Mm..."
Lyric was wrong. I can't handle this. I can't help the house. But I should listen. Parents, or the house? The house is more pleasing to you, huh? Alright, Lyric. I walked back up into my room thinking about what the house wanted me to do.
The morning came, and I quickly realised, only I could hear the house breathing. Why was that? Because children are more attuned to the paranormal, or so they say? Why is that? You don't know? Alright... tell me if you find the answer, then.
My parents spoke to me multiple times throughout breakfast, and I realised again. The house's breathing changed accordingly to what was happening inside. When my parents lied, the breathing slowed, as if disappointed. When something bad was going to happen, like father falling, it would hold its breath. If it was scared, it would pant. But it was always panting. I can't blame it, or can I? I suppose I can't. My parents aren't the best of people, are they?
I question too much? Mm... then, I guess we can finally separate us, then? I'll be... QLyric. And you'll be ALyric. Isn't that perfect? No? Okay then. I'll just call you A for short then. Better, right?
Mmm... my parents left the home? I suppose it's time for you to come out then, A.
Fine, fine, Q. You just want me to figure out things for you.
Pant.
"Yes, House?"
Wheeze. Wheeze.
"They're back? Must be today they planned it, then."
Our parents really do love us, don't they? What do you mean by 'be nice', Q? Alright, fine.
"Lyric... come here."
"Yes, Mother."
I'll handle this myself. No need to bring you into this, Q. You deal with them enough. I stepped through the doorway.
Inside the room, red torches lined the walls in a ring, casting the ceiling in a trembling orange wash. Shadows bent inward toward the centre of the floor like they were leaning in to watch. A sacrifice? Hmm...
Pant. Pant. Pant. Pant. Pant. Pant. Pant. Pant.
Enough, House. Why do you care so much for us, anyway?
I looked at the turned backs of my parents, still obviously thinking I am the same obedient Q. Praying to... someone. I didn't really mind as I took one of the red flaming torches. No thought for safety in a flammable house, huh? How dare you try to hurt Q. Static. That's all their screams were, as I burned them.
Pant.
"Now you're scared of me, House?"
The torch light guttered. The walls went quiet, one long exhale into nothing.
"It's okay. I won't be here long anyway."
I smiled. Static. That's all it ever was.
Wasn't it, Q?