Paragon (n.)

Sian

The silence that enveloped the house was deafening. Sian couldn't remember the last time she’d heard so much silence, maybe it'd been before she left, when sadness and despair ruled the McAndrews. Yet now sadness and despair had moved out, leaving silence alone. The only thing that would occasionally accompany silence was Sian, her semi-frequent whisper shouts would outshine the silence, making the house remember that someone was still there.

Sian found herself staring at her ceiling, not long after one of her screaming matches with herself. The ceiling had no answers for her even though she prayed that it would, instead it just reminded her of the reason she left and the reason she came back.

“Actively screaming at something that isn't there  doesn't count as physical activity you know?” The voice that spoke was smooth and deep, with an unmistakable underlying tone of confidence that had always driven her insane.

Sian kept her eyes on the ceiling, holding her tongue for a minute before speaking, “Yeah well, you left a big enough mess for me to pick up after. So I think that actively screaming should be considered something. Or else why do it?”

“Yeah I see your point, kiddo. But really, I think the most important bit isn't the actively screaming, it's the talking to someone who isn't here anymore.”

“Yeah Reg, that is the more important bit. But unfortunately, there's nothing you can't do about it.” Sian whispered.

Her brother’s voice echoed through her mind, probably for the fourth time that week, she'd lost count after the first five times he magically appeared. He seemed to be everywhere now that he was gone. He was in the color her room had been painted, in the big green bowl that sat in a kitchen cabinet.

The house was no longer the McAndrews family home, no, it was now Reginald McAndrew’s memory, the things he left behind. And that was the hardest part. The past year has been easy, fixing the mistakes he'd left in his wake, taking his place in the family, piecing back the broken bits and bobs he'd let crumble.

The past year had been perfect, it gave Sian time to ignore her grieving process, to power through, to pretend that Reg would still be there the following day. That she could handle, the superficial aspect of it all. The part she couldn't handle was being back. Being with the people who knew him and loved him, the people who didn't know what had happened. The people who had every right to be upset with her, but had even more of a right to be upset with a dead person. The people who would make her accept that he was dead.

Being back was horrible, and definitely not her choice. But all Sian could do was suck it up and let the people she once adored think she could care less. That way no one would get hurt, that way Sian would stay in her bubble with her brother.