The Silent Treatment

Chapter 1: The Silent Treatment

(Poppy's P.O.V)

I wake with a silent scream and sweat dripping down my forehead. Its been two months. Two months of 'Im sorry', funerals and therapy. I haven't spoken a word since that night. I remember the police barging onto the gruesome scene with pitiful expression on their faces as they saw me in the corner. I thought it was all a dream to be honest. 

I remember the animal like screams that came out of my mouth every time someone tried to touch me. I gave my statement that night, telling the police every little detail of my mothers murder and fathers suicide.

But after saying what needed to be said, I haven't said a word. The doctors say it's my way of coping, that I'll talk when I'm ready, that if there is something really worth saying, i'll talk. These stupid doctors don't understand me at all, not really anyways. 

I don't talk because I don't what to answer the questions that everyone wants answers too, questions that even I don't know the answers to. I don't want to be asked about that night, about my tempered father or broken mother. I don't want to remember that night at all.

I should have done something! Anything to help save my mother's life. But I didn't, instead I stood there like a frozen statue and watched the horrid scene unfold. My mother's death is my fault. I can still hear the gun shot ringing in my ears. All those years of watching my mum be my father's punching bag and still I said nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I remember when I was little and my mum would hide me in the wardrobe and say "Stay quiet okay Poppy. We'll play a game. See how long you can be as quiet as a mouse for okay. Until dad goes to bed". Little did I know that in reality, my dad would come home drunk and take all his anger on my mum. She was his punching bag. A way for him to get his anger out.

As I got older, I realised what was happening but mum swore me to secrecy. Made me promise that I wouldn't tell anybody. To think about the family's reputation and what it would mean for us. Eventually I become a punching bag of his as well. When mum started going out more, not coming home at night, disappearing for a few days, I was the one that he started taking his anger out on. 

Mum wasn't around and I wasn't strong enough to take him on my own. I don't hate my mum for leaving me alone but I do wish she was strong enough to leave him. Or at least take me with her when ever she had to get away for a little while. I feel as though I'm just as bad as my father sometimes, maybe even worse. If I had just spoken up about what was going on, my mother would still be alive and my evil father would be rotting in a jail cell somewhere. That is why I stay silent, I had the choice to use my voice and save my mother but instead I stayed silent.

Dr. Williams opens the door to my room, pulling me out of my thoughts. Ive been at the Garden Vale Treatment centre in New York for the last two months being treated for PDST.

"So, how are we today Poppy?" Dr.Williams questioned me. I shrugged.

"Poppy I can't help you, if you won't talk to me." I looked down. I don't need anyones help. I can look out for myself. Always have and always will.

"We've decided that maybe it be best for you to leave the centre and go and live with the Grant family" He stated.

Mr Grant is my guardian. In my parents will, they left me in his care if anything was to happen to them. Forget the fact that I've never met him in all my life and I'm already 17. My parents never mentioned a Mr Grant. There was no Mr Grant around when my dad was abusing me and my mum. Or air birthdays and special events and celebrations. But then again, I would do anything to get out of this depressing place.

"Maybe you will make more progress there. Mr Grant will be here tomorrow to pick you up" he sighed as he left the room.

The next morning, I began to get ready to leave. take my dark brown waves hair out , letting it fall down my back. I put on ripped black skinny jeans, a red crop top and my black leather jacket paired with my heeled boots. I may be a total wreak on the inside but the Mr. Grant doesn't need to know that. I finish my look with a bold red lipstick. I got my mum's big hazel eyes and small petite figure. Pack what little I have with me and wait for Mr Grant to arrive.

A soft knock on the door is followed by Dr. Williams and whom I assume is Mr Grant enter the room. He is about 6'8, dirty blonde hair and dark green eyes. He screams money and power in his black business suit. I don't really know how to approach him. Do I give him a hand shake? A nod of the head? Before I could even decide Mr Grant pulls me close to him.

"Poppy? You look just like your mother" Mr Grant says, engulfing me in a tight hug and I stiffen.

"Im guessing your Mr Grant?" I write down backing away from the hug. Mr Grant reads my message.

"No need to be so formal dear, we're family now. Call me Harry" He beams as he lowered my suitcase into the car.

On the way to the airport, Harry informed me that he's already enrolled me into the school that his boys attend and that it will be good for me to have a fresh start in Tennessee. I'm grateful that he doesn't bring up what happened with my parents as well as the fact that he doesn't act like he's walking on glass around me.

"Oh and don't worry about my boys. They just take while to warm up to new people but I'm sure you'll get along great" Harry states as thought I already knew that he has kids.

So I did hear that right. I'm guessing that by the shocked expression on my face he realises that I have no who his children are, let alone that he had any at all.

"Crap! I forgot to mention them." he muttered to himself. He turns to face me.

"Poppy... I don't know how to tell you this but I have 6 sons"

Well this day just got a lot more interesting.