Free Silenced by Natasha Larry

of your ass.”
    His head lowers. Light chirping meets my ears.
    “Really?” I sigh and sit up. “How am I the bad guy?”
    He rolls his neck and looks back up. We sit there a while in quiet. He starts to whistle. This time, the tune sounds familiar. When I recognize it, I bite down a smile.
    “Oh, no.” I cross my arms. “I’m not that easy.”
    “And I’d, never thought I’d feel this way…”
    My mouth twitches. He sounds just like Dione Warwick, real talk. One of Oscar’s talents is imitating all voices.
    And I mean all voices.
    “Don’t,” I say, clearing my throat.
    “And as far as I’m concerned, I’m glad I got chance to say that I do believe I love you…”
    That gets a real smile out of me, wide and cheesy as all hell.
    “And if, I should ever go away, well then close your eyes and try to feel the way we do today…”
    I pat my shoulder and he swoops over and perches there. My fingers ruffle his feathers.
    “Missed you bro.”
    He squawks.
    I sigh. “Rough day, Oz.”
    Light chirps buzz my ear.
    “Got a girl…a Spirit killed today. A water Spirit, too. They’re the only ones that don’t act like their shit doesn’t stink.”
    Another familiar melody fills the room. Some blues number. I lean back against the headboard and listen. Try to let it go. Try to find something that at least looks like peace of mind. My eyelids start to feel heavy. I yawn and start to close them.
    A loud boom on the door jerks me from drowsiness.
    “Who is it?” Oscar calls, sounding just like me. I give him a look and swipe my hands down my face. The banger doesn’t answer, just knocks louder.
    With a sigh, I crawl off the bed. “Coming!” I shuffle across the room and pull the door open. It’s Shoestring. Well, Tripp. But that’s what I’ve decided to call him.
    “What’s up, man?” I let the door open all the way and step back.
    He points his finger at Oscar. “See you two have been reunited.”
    Oscar chirps. “And it feels so good…”
    My eyes roll up into my head. “Us, and all of Motown’s greatest.”
    Tripp laughs, then his face twists into an expression of concern. “I came to check on you.” His hands plant on his hips. “I heard what happened to Sonya.”
    I raise a brow.
    “In the Pit?”
    Sonya was her name. My mind replays Juliet decapitating her over and over. I shake my head like my brain is an Etch-a-Sketch, and moving it up and down can blank the slate.
    I gaze past him and stare for a few awkward moments. A clicking noise draws my attention back to Tripp. My eyes dart to the doorknob he’s fiddling with.
    He stops and asks, “Is there anything I can do?”
    I turn and stroll back across the room. “Nah, thanks, Shoestring.”
    He saunters in and leans back against the wall. “You sure? Blowjob? All you have to do is ask.”
    I snigger. “Does that actually work on dudes?”
    “Only all the time.” He grins.
    Sitting at the desk chair, I tilt my head to the side. “That’s amazing.”
    Tripp laughs again, then his expression shifts back to concerned. “No, but seriously. You need anything at all?”
    I shrug. “Unless you’re a beer or a time machine, I don’t think you can help.”
    We both get quiet, so Oscar fills the silence with chirping. After too long of a pause, my mind starts trying to think up a polite way to tell Tripp to get the hell out. I just want to be alone with my shitty thoughts. His fingers snap.
    “Not a beer or a time machine, but do have something that can help.” He pushes himself off the wall. “Come on.”
    I shake my head. “Nah, man. Really, I’m good.”
    He snorts. “I think you’ve been alone long enough.” His hands wave me toward the door. “Oscar can come too. Come on now.”
    I sigh. Clearly, I’m not going to be getting rid of my new bestie. So, I drag my ass off the chair, turn to sweep the rest of Oscar’s sunflower seeds off the desk and into my front pocket, then turn toward Tripp.
    “Fine, where we