The Silence Isn't So Bad.

The Awful Afterwards

The first part of my day was awful.

I woke up at home. I was tucked in my bed and swathed in my warmest pajamas. I rolled over in my queen sized bed and saw Mom laying next to me.

"How are you doing honey? She asked her eyes worriedly scanning my face. I started to shrug, but stopped because of the immediate pain that radiated through my body. My mother saw my reaction to the ache and sighed.

"I was hoping you'd feel a little bit better by now..." She trailed off. After a second she seemed to remember I couldn't communicate with her well. Lightly hitting herself on the forehead she pulled my notebook and favorite pen off the nightstand. Gently she places them into my waiting hands. I hit the light switch on the lamp next to me, every little movement making me hiss. Once the light was on I raised my eyebrows at my mom. As soon as she saw that she began babbling. It was like I had just given her a green light and she has the worst case of road-rage.

"What hurts? Who brought you home? What- what happened?" She questioned. Fear was clear in her voice. Quivering I wrote out the answers she craved.

Everything hurts. Mainly the back of my head, the back of my legs, my ribs, and my, my boobs.

I paused when I wrote the part about my chest. I knew she would be worried, but I hate lying to her.

I don't know who brought me home... What did they look like?

I looked at her, waiting. I tried my best to ignore the last question she had asked me. Giving me a knowing but still worried look she cleared her throat. I sighed then picked up my pencil.

I don't want to talk about it.

I was crying by the time I showed her the words. It was silent now but by the way my breath was hitching the sobs weren't far behind. She nodded her head in a silent agreement. We would talk when I'm ready. Or really, communicate when I'm ready.

The second part was better.

As if planned by Mom herself there was a loud knocking sound on the front door. She helped me out of bed and down the stairs. She wondered aloud who would come to our house at 5:45 am. I stood by Mom while she opened the door a crack.

"Hello?" A voice curiously greeted her.

"Hi, I'm Zac Wood. Pleased to meet you." She smiled warmly, cranking up that wicked charm.

"I'm Alex. Do you happen to know a teenage girl, about 17? Brown straight hair and blue eyes?" He asked slowly. My eyes widened. What if it was one of Tommy's thugs! I started panicking just in time for Mom to discreetly peek at me from the corner of her eye. I frantically waved my hand under my chin in a slice motion.

"Um, maybe. Why do you need to know?" She interrogated, suspicion thick in her words.

"I wanted to make sure that Ronnie had the right address last night."