Muted

Silenced

You trusted them. Each classmate, neighbor, teacher, and even the younger children of the neighborhood. None of them were able to understand you, yet their sympathy was plentiful.

Your parents were kind, young and wealthy. The perfect couple, but you now believe no good thing lasts.

When you were thirteen, you received a phone call around three in the morning. Your parents were hit by the get away car during a robbery of a nearby jewelry store. You were heart broken, you couldn't believe it was true. You didn't want to! For weeks you lived in your home with an officer as your caretaker. You were an only child and now an orphan.

Officer Walsh was a tall blonde young policeman, he watched over how you acted through out the case. He told you everything he could about it to try to comfort you. Apparently there were three men and one woman in the car, their moving truck was found burning in a ditch minutes after the crime. The police found the truck before the found the bodies of your parents.
Walsh wasn't allowed to share the murder files, but late one night you found him asleep at the dining table. You were too small to carry him to the couch and knew he hadn't been sleeping well. So you simply covered him with a blanket.

His papers were thrown all over the floor, you picked up a manila envelope and put the scattered files inside. You saw something that night that made you shake. A photograph. You couldn't rip you eyes away from it. It was so horrible yet beautiful. You hid the photo in your journal. Walsh respected your space, so you believed he'd never find it.

Under three weeks, two of the four responsible for your parents deaths were captured, and one had commit suicide to avoid the cops. Leaving only one to roam the area. Officer Walsh decided it was time for you to move in with any of your nearby relatives. The grandparents on your mother's side had both passed away, and the grandparents on your father's side lived with your uncle in Florida. There were other aunts and uncles all over, but each had kids of their own and no room to take care of a teen. So Walsh set up plans to send you to Florida. Before you stepped on the plane, Walsh gave you his number in case things don't work out. You thanked him, then took the first step into a empty world.

(Your POV)

Your walk home from work was peaceful, the breeze was cooler than usual and the smell of the salty ocean could be smelt from anywhere. It was just after you had just graduated high school, 'Nama demanded you have a job, in her words she's only required to provide you with food, shelter, and clothes. If you wanted anything else you had to work for it. The only thing you ever got from your grandparents was on your sixteenth birthday. And it was an outdated Apple laptop with a charger that only worked when it wanted to and half the keys were either faded or missing. Lucky for you the neighbors are always hosting yard sales; otherwise, you wouldn't have ever bought that flexible silicone keyboard with a late reaction time. It was only two bucks. Was it even worth it?

Your walk was quiet, but when you stepped in the back door of the house it was a different story.

"[Name]! Did you get the groceries?" 'Nama's voice cracked when she said your name.
"No 'Nama. I bought them yesterday!" you shout back as you walked towards your room. You heard her footsteps stomping across the old linoleum floor, then the click of her tongue.
"LIAR! [Name] there ain't milk in here!" she slammed the fridge door. With your hand on the handle of garage door, you yell without thinking.
"Check if uncle Shawn took it downstairs, I know I bought two half-gallons." you reach into the garage and pulled out a small window mop. 'Nama's howl was a glass-shattering cry.
"SHAWN! Bring up the damn milk!" you could vaguely hear Shawn's reply.
You hooked the window mop into the handle on ceiling. And with it, you pulled down the attic's door. A ladder sat folded on top the trap door. You pulled on a string that was attached to the lowest rung. The ladder clattered on the hallway's wood floor and you climbed up. Leaving the window mop sitting between the rungs.