Silently Screaming (A Quiet Place Fanfic)

1: Day 1

It was Day 499 of living in a shattered, broken, and silent world, where one word was all it took to end your life. Amidst the ruins of destroyed cities and landscapes, a girl named Lila Middleton sat inside of a collapsed building, bound tightly to a pole. A knife was gouged deeply into her side, causing an unbearable wave of pain to stab at her with every breath. Lila fought back the urge to scream with all her might as she felt tears of agony dripping down her cheeks. A small groan escaped her pressed lips.

The ticking of deathly creatures sounded nearby. Lila's heart skipped a beat as she realized with terror that her life was about to end.

~*~

498 days earlier, Lila was lying fast asleep in her bed; safe, uninjured, and out of harm's way.

That is, until the sound of her blaring alarm suddenly dragged her out of her slumber. Lila opened her eyes with a small gasp and rolled over to turn off the alarm clock, her heart pounding.

In the silence that followed, Lila sat back in her bed, panting. She glanced around her room with hazel-speckled blue eyes, taking in several deep breaths to try and calm herself.

She was fine. Everything was fine. Lila didn't have to be afraid of getting surprised any more. She was on good medicine. She was healthy. She was safe.

Early sunshine filtered into the room through her dark purple curtains. Lila allowed the familiar lighting to calm her worried heart. She brushed her dirty blonde hair out of her face and let out a small sigh.

Time to survive.

20 minutes later, Lila was standing in the small kitchen of her home, cooking up a breakfast of pancakes and snacking on an occasional chocolate chip or two.

She heard footsteps coming down the stairs and looked up to see who it was, her heart filling with hope. But she immediately pounced on the feeling and silenced it, forcing herself to remember yet again that Dad wouldn't be coming down to greet her today with his cheery weather forecast for the morning. Her meteorologist of a Father was gone. In France, of all places, with his lovely new wife of 1 year. How the heck was she supposed to run the place without him? Especially with her new Mom's little French kids running around like maniacs?

One of these little French kids made her entrance into the kitchen at that very moment. It was Elle, Lila's 8-year-old sister. Her footsteps had been the sounds thumping down the stairs, and the girl creating them was the one to claim a place at the kitchen counter moments later, right as Lila flipped her first warm stack of pancakes onto a plate. Elle smiled widely at the food and readily stabbed at it, fork in hand.

As Lila watched her sibling hungrily devour the fluffy pancakes, she thought to herself how bizarre her sister was. From her untamable mane of blonde hair, to her lively brown eyes that looked at the world as something to be scrutinized and found at fault with, Elle brought vibrance and spice wherever she went, regardless of her young age and small size. Her temper could flare up at any moment and bring vivacity to any conversation. She had grown up in France and spoke French as her native tongue, but she had also learned English because her mother thought it would, 'Come in 'andy.' And it did. Elle's accent brought Lila tremendous joy. It was the funniest thing to listen to.

Lila waited until Elle had taken another voluminous bite before brightly saying the words, "Good morning."

Elle looked up at Lila with a glare, chewing hard. "Morghning," she replied in a grumpy, muffled voice.

Lila let out a chuckle at the heavy 'R,' Elle had produced. It sounded like someone trying to clear a large amount of mucus out of their throat. She would never grow tired of that sound.