the silent scream

:one:

                                    The rain pattered where the sidewalk meets the street, forming a dark, murky puddle. The sky goes from the initial bright blue to a pale whitish color. My hijab is waterproof, but I still feel drenched in the rain somehow. The cheap and fake navy blue "Converse" pounds and taps on the squished green grass. I stop running and take heaved breaths, exasperating in-and-outs of breaths through my nose and out my mouth. I pretend I am on a beach in the Bahamas, my hair just a whisper of the winds and my bare legs on the hot white-sand beach...

                                 The maroon Nissan pulls up to the curb and I heave a sigh of relief. Adjusting my bag frustratingly on my shoulder, I stomp over to the passenger side door and I manage to pull it open and am greeted with the familiar face in the driver's seat.

                                 "Hey, just thought I'd pick you up on the way back from work. How was school, beta?"  My father's relaxed tone is that of a pleasure in the Seattle storm, and for that I was thankful. His salt-and-pepper hair is smoothed to the bone, and he wears his usual jeans and collar shirt, with his tall frame taking up the majority of the driver's seat. His dark brown irises are focused on me, something I always appreciate. Running in the rain and then after getting the heated seats of my father's familiar van was almost Bahamas-like. Almost. I muster up what I think looks like a smile to my dad, and make myself home in the roomy passenger seat. 

                            "It was fine, I guess." I mutter, while clicking through my phone. I laugh at something on my phone, to which my father takes a stern turn in the conversation.

                            "You're always on that phone nowadays and I don't know how to interact with you. It's like a battle trying to get to know my own child." My father was clearly outraged and his grip tenses on the steering wheel. He doesn't dare hit me, though. He never would.

                              I put my phone back in my stuffed bag and look over to him. He sighs out of clear exhaustion and waves a hand at me. I guess the yelling made him guilty after all.