Things We Can't Tell (Cold Case Series 1)

ii.

Why does a mute need a telephone?

𝟷𝟺 𝙳𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶.

𝚈𝚎𝚊𝚛 ****, 𝙿𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎, 𝟾 𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍. 𝟸 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎'𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎.

𝙵𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙.

𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝟸𝟾𝟻- *******

S E S S I O N  2

It's a telephone.

Why does she have this?

I didn't realize I was staring at it for too long until I heard something shattered. It came from the kitchen. 

I hid the telephone where I found it and rushed towards the kitchen. My heart was beating too fast, I didn't have time to calm down from my curiosity about the telephone and what happened in the kitchen. 

What happened? What did Lindsey do? I̶s̶ ̶s̶h̶e̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶d̶o̶ ̶s̶o̶m̶e̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶m̶e̶?̶ Did she hurt herself?

As I reached the kitchen, I saw Lindsey standing, pieces of broken glass scattered around her feet. She looked up at me, her eyes wide . . . but still looked emotionless.

"L-Lindsey, are you okay?" I asked, full of concern.

She didn't answer, not even a nod. She was always careful, meticulous even. So, what's happening continues to fill my anxiety. My mind is still on the telephone I saw.

I grabbed a broom and dustpan from the closet and began to clean up the broken glasses. "What happened?" I asked, not really expecting an answer but wanting to fill the silence.

My eyes were on the floor, until I stopped. It was unconsciously like my body moved on its own. I felt a stare. A look. I felt scared and unsafe. I immediately looked up, greeted by Lindsey's innocent face, hands behind her back. 

Is she hurt? i̶s̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶a̶ ̶g̶l̶a̶s̶s̶ ̶b̶e̶h̶i̶n̶d̶ ̶h̶e̶r̶?̶ Is she bleeding?

I stopped sweeping and forced a smile. "I-I'll clean it up later." I reasoned. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Lindsey never did anything to make me feel anxious. To make me feel unsafe. Never once she tried doing anything. But never as well, I felt safe around her.

"Can . . . I see your hands?"

The silence that always filled the room had never been suffocating like it is now. We stared at each other. I waited for her to move.

It felt like hours before she moved her hands. I was about to step back but I composed myself. I was holding my breath the whole time, before sighing when I saw her bare hands, no glass in sight.

My breath caught in my throat. "T-Thank God . . .  I thought you were hurt."

She stared at me with her dead eyes as if they had never seen light. I looked away.

"Take a rest for now . . . I'll handle this." I forced a smile. She didn't acknowledge what I said and just left. Until she was no longer in the room, I felt true relief.

I'm overreacting over nothing. My imagination is playing tricks on me. But the seed of doubt had been planted, and I knew I wouldn't be able to shake it easily.

As I finished cleaning up and we went back to what we were doing, I couldn't help but steal glances at Lindsey. I still couldn't take off my mind what happened and what I saw.

⌖

I'm sitting on the sofa in the living room, reading a book with some music in the background. I want to distract myself from the unease I'm feeling because of what happened earlier. I couldn't sleep.

Still, I couldn't focus on reading. I kept remembering the telephone in Lindsey's room. It was my first time seeing it. Why would she have that? 

'Instead of dreaming
I Sleepwalk
Cause I lost you
And now what am I to do
What to do.
Can't believe that we're through
I don't care how much you tell me.'

'Sleep talk
Cause I miss you
While the memory of you
Lingers like a song
Darling, I was so wrong
But I'll be right some day.'

I must have dozed off at some point because the next thing I knew, I was awakened by a faint noise, still enough to wake me up. My heart pounded as I glanced around the dimly lit room, trying to make sense of the sound. The vinyl recorder was no longer producing music, so I stood up and turned it off.

The room was eerily silent now, the kind of silence that feels heavy and suffocating. I can not hear any hint of movement, amd I can not see in the darkness. I went to the kitchen to check the back door and windows. 

I was stepping towards the kitchen when a figure made me stop. Standing in front of the open window that I always close, is a woman. 

Lindsey.

Standing still, face in front of the window. Her figure is just visible in the faint light peeking through the curtains. I stopped breathing.

"L-Lindsey?" I called softly, my voice trembling. She didn't move, didn't respond, just stood there. A chill ran down my spine, and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"Lindsey, what are you doing here?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. She remained silent, her expression unreadable in the dark.

I want to vomit. I want to shout. I want to scream.

Suddenly, without warning, she faced me, mouth opened, and a piercing scream tore through the room. The sound was raw and terrifying, unlike anything I had ever heard before. I put my hands over my ears to cover them but the scream kept echoing in my head. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying for it to stop.

When I opened my eyes again, I was gasping for breath, drenched in cold sweat. The room was just as it had been before I fell asleep—the vinyl playing repeatedly, undisturbed, and empty. I looked around frantically, but there was no sign of Lindsey. 

I was breathing heavily. I lay back against the chair, trying to calm my racing heart. The house was silent, and everything was in its place, but my mind was eating me alive. It kept replaying the image of Lindsey screaming.

I shook my head, trying to take it off my mind. It was just a dream. It's not real. s̶h̶e̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶k̶i̶l̶l̶ ̶m̶e̶. It's not true. It didn't happen.

I stood up. I needed to see Lindsey, to reassure myself that she was okay and that it had all been on my mind. I went to her room. 

When I reached her door, I hesitated for a moment before silently touching the doorknob. I opened the door a crack and peeked inside. She was there, lying peacefully in her bed, fast asleep.

I let out a shaky breath. It was just a dream. Lindsey was fine. s̶h̶e̶'̶s̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶k̶i̶l̶l̶ ̶m̶e̶.  I closed the door quietly and headed back to my own room, but the unease remained.

I couldn't help but wonder if my subconscious was trying to tell me something.

⌖