Often Hushed

Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE
~:December 14th, Present:~

Both of my hands are frigid and cold against the flat plane of the window. Marlene pants behind me, trying to draw in the nonexistent heat by wrapping her arms around herself. The swoosh of the cotton rubbing against cotton is a grating sound in my eardrums. She taps her foot rhythmically against the ground; a mix between an impatient cue to leave and a habit that she's kept for years.

When I don't respond (not because I had any trouble hearing her in the crisp, silent room), she places a gentle hand against my shoulder, fiddling her fingers in a lock of my tangled hair.

I want to turn around and let out a growl at her... but knowing Marlene, she'd pass out from the shock of my audacity. I've never shown her the true me. I've been polite whenever she came over, I'd kept quiet and calm. But now that my parents can no longer remind me, I can imagine without repercussion her complaints slurring as soon as she found another bottle to bathe in the bottom of... and smile while doing it.

I sigh quietly and watch the filmy spread of fog from my hands dissipate after I pull them away. They drop uselessly to my side. My left hand clenches a fistful of my loose jeans.

I turn quickly and smile grimly at her, lips spread too thinly over my face. "Can I have a minute?" I ask tersely. I notice her brief look of indignance, then motion forward with my hand, aiming at the door. "You can wait in the car if you want to."

Her eyebrows draw in, and her mouth loses some of its color because she's pursing her lips so hard. I know it's an irresistible offer for her, however much she tries to look like she isn't interested. We'd taken some initiative and let the heater in the truck take its sweet time to warm up while I say my goodbyes to the house.

Finally, she nods.

"But don't take too long in here. It's damned cold today." Marlene mutters in her nasally voice, shrugging and waddling off. I watch her unremarkable figure recede out of the doorway and wave casually. She dosen't notice, or at least pretends not to.

When Marlene finally shuts the door, I set down the heavy duffel bags that have been wrapped over my shoulders. They fall to the floor with a collective slam. I bend down and right them to make sure my stuff didn't spill over the edge, and stretch my legs out at the same time. Why Marlene couldn't generate enough sympathy to let me say goodbye to my empty house was beyond me. Then again, if I was actually paying her she may have stayed. Not that I wanted her to. We've been neighbors for years, but that was about it for our relationship.

I draw myself over to the window again, which looks over our... I mean the backyard. One lone tree stands away from the endless knee-high grass, an oak, I think, with branches coated by crystalline frost. The grass is draped with an ominous white layer, and so is the low-hanging wooden deck. My hand finds the windowsill and grasps the soothing mint-colored ledge with clutching hands. My knuckles are bone white. Feeling my eyes tear up into a watery mess, I bite my lower lip and turn, trying not to notice my heart squeeze painfully in my chest.

The room is completely empty, aside from me and my baggage. The garage sale that happened a day ago cleared out all of the furniture and other objects that had been in the house. Everything else of theirs, personal affects, family heirlooms, prized possessions... it had been burned up in that damn fire that happened about a week ago.

I abandon my own things and stride across the threadbare carpet into the kitchen with the linoleum flooring. It's also empty. Gone. Everything is really gone. I swallow the sour taste of fear that rose like harsh screams in my throat but I keep silent.

I take one last roundabout look through the downstairs area. The living room, the dining room, the bathroom, the hallway by the door. I then mount the steps slowly, counting each of them in turn.