The Silent One ✔

Chapter Five

First day down, one hundred and eighty to go.

The first of school wasn't as bad as I thought. I got away with saying two words the entire day as the people that I hang out with didn't even notice that I wasn't talking, because they wouldn't shut up.

They seem nice but if I think too hard about it, my stomach churns in worry. In prison, if one of the inmates were being friendly, it usually meant that there was something else going behind the scenes.

I shake off the thought just as a car pulls up in front of me.

"So how was your first day?" My grandfather asks as I jump into the passenger seat of the SUV. I don't respond, instead, I just look down at my fingertips, "you know, you will need to speak to your grandmother and me eventually," he says whilst driving down the street.

Do you want a bet? I've only met my grandparents a few times throughout my life, they aren't important to me. They were forced to take me in because my father isn't seen fit. They are my mother's parents, that were rarely in my life, how can they expect me to freely open up to them? I'm treating them like strangers because quite frankly they are to me.

I knew the judge who was handling my case, better than I know them. The last time that I saw my grandparents was at my mother's funeral when I was six years old. They cannot expect me to treat them like anything more than strangers.

My grandfather clears his throat, "after you were arrested, child services put Jason in Laura's custody...I just thought you should know"

I hold my breath. My kid brother Jason, not a kid anymore, huh? I haven't seen him since he was a thirteen-year-old kid, now he's like sixteen. He wasn't cut out for the Bronx, I'm glad my Aunt Laura took him in and brought him here. My only question was why I wasn't with them? Perhaps because my Aunt Laura is too young to handle two teenagers. However, I could argue that my grandparents are too old to be handling me.

Once we arrive at my grandparents home, I begin to walk through the house.

"Expect to be walking tomorrow Evangeline" my grandmother calls from down the hallway.

I roll my eyes while entering my bedroom. I shut the door loudly then drop to the carpet where I pull out my sketchbook from my backpack.

Flicking through the roughly textured pages, I admire my previous work. There, I run my fingers down one sketch in particular - the one of my friend Sage and my boyfriend at the time, Jeffrey they called him.

My mother was an artist. She had a promising future they said, everyone was heartbroken when she died. Especially those at the art gallery who invested all their time and money in her.

I pull out an HB writing pencil from my pencil case where I began sketching out my mother.

After hours of nonstop drawing, my eyes go to my bedroom window, where the dark sky shined through my room. How long have I been drawing for? I pick up the piece of paper and admire my work. I quit drawing when my sister Trisha died. I swore never to draw again. That didn't last long, as it was the only thing to keep me sane in juvy.

I've carried around my sketchbook through every stage of my life. Being without it scares me a little. Even when I stopped drawing I still had to have it on me at all times. I guess it has always been my security blanket.

I walk out of my bedroom quickly where I find my grandparents sipping their soup around the kitchen table.

"Evangeline," my grandfather looks up at me, "it's about time"

"We have been calling you for hours it seems," my grandmother adds. "Your soup's getting cold, my dear"

I walk towards the table where I find a bowl of soup prepared for me, with a roll of bread sitting beside the spoon. I pick up the roll before walking back into my bedroom. I take a bite and drop to my bed, listening to every single word that my grandparents were exchanging.

"What are we going to do with her?" My grandmother sighs.

"God knows" my grandfather responds coldly.

"How did Jonathan handle her?" She asks.

"He didn't," he replies simply, "he was always getting into trouble and she was left to raise herself"

That's not true. These people don't know the first thing about my father. They only came to see us once or twice in New York before my mother died. That is hardly enough time to get to know my father, they only ever knew him by reputation.

In all honesty, my grandparents don't know any of us. I'm not even convinced that they knew my mother.

How the fuck am I gonna survive here?

---------------------------

A/N

Hi all,

Just a quick note about the characters. Something that you need to understand is that Evangeline is loyal to a fault when it comes to her father. So in later chapters, you truly see how far she would really go to protect him.

So please keep that in mind.

Please VOTE if you're enjoying this book.

Thank you

Happy reading!

- Rose xx