Mother's True Love.

Echoes Of Silence.

The room was frozen in time, a stillness that felt suffocating. Linda sat on the edge of Jules' bed, her heart racing, staring at her daughter's lifeless body sprawled beneath the covers. It felt surreal, like she was caught in a nightmare she couldn't wake up from. Two hours had passed since she found Jules—two hours filled with disbelief and denial.

Finally, as the reality sank in, Linda reached for her phone, hands trembling. She dialed the police, her voice barely a whisper. "I need help. My daughter... she's dead."

After what felt like an eternity, sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder until they echoed in the silence of the house. The officers arrived quickly, a swarm of blue uniforms that flooded the small space with urgency and authority. They moved through the house like shadows, searching for answers, their voices hushed but firm.

Linda stood in the doorway, watching as they examined every inch of Jules' room, her heart heavy with the weight of what had happened. "We need to know what happened," one of the officers said, his tone gentle yet probing. "Can you tell us about Jules? Any recent changes in her behavior?"

Linda's mind raced as she recounted the last few weeks, the arguments, the isolation, the troubled state of her daughter's mind. "She was struggling," she admitted, fighting back tears. "But I didn't think... I didn't think it would come to this."

The officers exchanged glances, scribbling notes as Linda spoke. They gathered details, piecing together the fragments of Jules' life as if trying to find the missing pieces of a shattered puzzle. After some time, they began to form their conclusion.

"Based on the evidence and your statements, it appears this is a case of suicide," one of the officers said, his voice void of emotion. "We'll need to conduct further investigations, but it seems likely."

Linda felt as if the ground had been pulled from under her. Suicide. The word echoed in her mind, a finality that settled in her gut. She felt the walls closing in, the weight of her grief morphing into something darker. How could this happen? How could she have missed the signs?

As the news spread throughout the suburb, whispers filled the hallways of Jules' school. The echo of shock and sorrow rippled through her classmates. Lockers were adorned with roses and heartfelt notes, a bittersweet tribute to a life cut short. "I can't believe she's gone," they murmured, each word a dagger to Linda's heart.

She could almost hear their voices, a haunting chorus of regrets and what-ifs. "She was so talented, so bright," they said. "Why didn't we see it?" But it was too late now. The kindness and sympathy poured in like a flood, but it offered little comfort to Linda, who felt more isolated than ever.

She wandered through the school, trying to comprehend the chaos around her. It felt wrong—Jules wasn't just a statistic or a story; she was a vibrant girl with dreams and hopes that had been extinguished far too soon.

That evening, as darkness enveloped the world outside, Linda sat alone in Jules' room, surrounded by the remnants of her daughter's life—pictures on the wall, clothes scattered on the floor, the faint scent of her perfume lingering in the air. The weight of her grief threatened to crush her, and deep down, anger brewed—a fury directed at herself, at the world, and at Jules for leaving her behind.

"Why didn't you reach out?" Linda whispered into the silence, her voice breaking. "Why didn't you tell me?"

The room remained silent, the shadows swallowing her words. The truth was, she had tried to protect Jules, but in doing so, had she pushed her away?

In that moment, Linda felt the cracks forming in her mind. The anger and sorrow twisted together, a dark storm brewing as she grappled with the weight of her loss. And with each passing day, the reality of Jules' death became a suffocating blanket, stifling any hope for healing.