Silence

Chapter 2

Evelyn's POV

The next day I wake up to Dad's yelling.

"Evelyn! Buy us a new plate immediately!" Dad hollered in his raspy, drunk tone.

I run up the stairs grabbing my money on the way. I had just enough for a new plate. I nod at Dad and grab my backpack as I head out the door. I buy the plate at a local kitchen store that's not too much out of the way and slip it in my backpack. Then I run to school hoping not to be late.

Luckily I made it, but just barely.

In first period the teacher says with her perky voice, "Ok everyone! Today we are going to clean out our backpack because your backpacks are complete disasters. Then we're going to begin our introduction to trigonometry."

You've got to be kidding. Out of all days the teacher chooses the day I have a plate in my backpack.

An actual damn plate.

Plus, isn't cleaning out your backpack in school a more elementary school thing to do? I swear this teacher just keeps trying to find new excuses everyday to not actually do her job.

Everyone opens their backpack. I look at it hesitantly, debating whether I should just run out of this awful class.

The teacher glances at me, getting impatient. I opened my tattered black backpack. The girl next to me noticed my plate of course because these desks just have to be so crammed together.

"Um, why do you have a plate in your backpack?" she snickered. I look down and ignore her. I feel the burning stares of my classmates, expecting an answer but also knowing they're not getting one.

I'm not sure what burns more. The stares or my cheeks.

I mean come on, what normal person has a freaking dining plate in their backpack?

At the end of school I head back to my house. As soon as I step through the door Dad growls horribly, "You were supposed to bring that plate before school. You do what I say. And nothing but what I say." The words seethe through his rotten teeth, anger filling every crevice of his features.

But then I would be late to school.

I quickly take out the white plate from my backpack. I present it with my shaking hand to my sorry excuse of a father without making eye contact. He takes it from me and inspects it. Then he puts it in the cupboard without a word of thanks to me. Instead he slaps me in the face.

It stings.

It stings bad.

I go to my basement of a room and do my homework, laying on the cold stone floor. Sometimes I wonder how my teachers don't seem to suspect a thing. Mom likes to tear my homework, I don't talk, and I won't let anyone touch. What more clues do people need?

To be honest, a lot of people are so self centered they don't notice a thing about other people. It's all about themselves.

It's rare to see a selfless someone. A someone who takes time to notice others. Notice their stories, notice their expressions, notice them.

I hang my head, my ashy blonde hair falling over my eyes. I catch my reflection in my little mirror.

I kind of look like a ghost, I'm that tired. I'm that hurt. I'm that scared.

My long hair falls down me in its pale color. My skin is ashen and my blue eyes are round and icy. My lips are chapped, adapted to fend against the cuts my parents inflict on them.

I look away and stare at the gray wall in front of me.

This wall is as gray as my life. Nothing good ever happens.

Why can't my life be like others? The life where your parents love you. Where you have friends. Where you can speak freely. Where you touch and hug one another without a thought. Where you can laugh and smile and things are bright.

The life with happiness.

I cry.

Wrecking sobs that shake my whole body.

Salty tears that soak my homework.

Sounds that break another's heart.

Shatters the heart.

Into a million pieces.

If you saw me crying so hard.

So violently.

And if you had a heart.

It would break.

Shatter.

And you'd be crying with me.

I'm sorry.

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Hey everyone! Hope you liked this chapter! Thanks so much for reading!