Louder

Words In A Whisper, Begging Not To Be Heard

1 year ago, Kennedy runs around the town square with a smile on her face. Its so bright you can almost ignore the fresh cut on her face. Most people do.

As she's running, she runs into a pole. Giving her a giant bruise on her forehead.

At least, that's what she tells you. After all, she couldn't possibly tell the truth. Because she just married the love of her life, so who cares that he hit her and gave her the bruise. Who cares that he hits her almost everyday without fail. Who cares?

1 year ago, she sits behind a desk, typing on her computer and talking with someone on the phone. She was the head of customer service at Wal-Mart, and she loved her job.

"Hi! My name's Kennedy! How may I help you?" She said a year ago. She smiled brightly the entire day, as she did everyday. It was what she did.

She was well known in her small town. She was the girl everyone asked for advice. All the parents would ask for her to be their babysitter, and the children looked forward to playing with Kennedy.

But that was one year ago.

Ten months ago, she had a few more bruises.

Nine months ago, she spoke a little less.

Eight months ago, she always seemed to be busy.

Seven months ago, she got a new job.

Six months ago she got two.

Five months ago no one ever saw her husband.

Four months ago, she began to disappear too.

3 months ago, she didn't speak at all.

Two months ago, they didn't notice anymore.

One month ago they're not even sure she's alive.

Now, they don't seem to care.

The heart of the town is long dead, and no one knows what to think of its disappearance.

At this very moment, she's laying on the floor, with her husband towering over her. Its 6 pm, and she was finishing up dinner. Her husband was napping. Her cooking, that she wouldn't be allowed to eat, had apparently woken up Roy, her husband. This was a very bad thing.

Kennedy was shaking wildly, and the only color on her face was in her sad blue eyes. They were sad, tired, and scared, and they no longer held that joy for life that they did a year ago.

"I told you not to wake me up!" He screamed. "I'm sorry," she whimpered. "Shut up! You worthless bitch!" He shouted, slamming his foot into her ribs.

Kennedy passed out. Roy walked away, entering the kitchen to devour the food. If Kennedy was lucky, she'd get a few leftovers when she woke up. But she generally wasnt very lucky.

Its 2 in the morning. Kennedy wakes up to the slamming of the front door. To the bar he goes. He goes every night.

She gets up, and heads to the bathroom. She looks into the mirror, and observes the damage. A bruise on her cheek. I ran into the door. Blood oozing from her forehead. Corner of the door. A scar just above her eyebrow. Its always been there.

All she knows is lies. Because her husband lied when he said he loved her. She lied when she said she's fine. Her mother lied when she said she'd be back. Her dad lied when he said he'd be alright.

Because her husband doesn't love her. And she isn't fine. Her mother never came back, and her dad died.

So she splashes water on her face. The blood stops and the bruise isn't as noticeable. She smiles. Its weak and its pathetic, but the smile is all that remains of who she used to be.

She walkes to her small room. She grabs a paintbrush and a few bottles of paint. Black, white, purple, blue, and red. She paints her picture, and smiles when its done.

A girl with dark hair, and blood and bruises on her face. The girl smiles.

She waits for the paint to dry.

Hours later, she picks it up, and exits the small apartment. She walks through the streets until she reaches the place she always comes to at 6 in morning. The place where she sells her art. A man stands by a store waiting. "How much?" He asks, taking out his wallet. "50," she responds, trading her art for money. This money is for food, and maybe more paint.

She places the money in her worn out wallet, and walks away to the elementary school. There'll, she'll spend the day silently putting together ice packs, and typing away on her computer, until 3 when she goes to her part time job at the supermarket where she will silently restock the items until 6, when she will go home and have dinner ready by 7:30, or else.

She only speaks when absolutely necessary, because Roy doesn't like her talking to other people. He doesn't like her talking to him either though, so she, for the most part, remains silent.

Its how she lives.