Silence | Book 1

1-8: Sleep Well [M-T]

Heavy clicks and kerchunks echoed through the empty hallway as Tristan opened his front door. The fluorescent light from the hallway cast his shadow into his dark apartment once his door opened.
It was more a one person living space than a real apartment: a small kitchen was squeezed in a few square metres, just barely big enough for a sink, cooktop and refrigerator with some cupboards above. It was separated from the rest of the room by a half-wall so as to not make it entirely claustrophobic. On the opposite side of the kitchen, beside him, was another door that led to a bathroom that was no bigger than his kitchen. Still he considered himself lucky that it was private.
A large window spanned the wall right ahead of him, starting about a metre above the floor all the way to the ceiling. It offered a quite decent view on the residential street down below, where the trees had begun to settle into fall. The wet leaves rustled and shimmered in the pale, blue-white light of the streetlamps, casting ever changing shadows in the room itself.
As for where he lived, a loft bed offered him some more space. Below it he had converted an old couch and a bookcase into a snug reading corner. The bookcase didn't even begin to contain all his books, and most all of them were stacked on the other side of the couch, besides and on top the bookcase, and under the coffee table.

But what really caught his attention in the dark was the slowly swelling and dimming blue light of the computer on his desk. At its strongest it softly outlined the silhouette of a girl in her early teens, fastly asleep atop the keyboard. Wild blonde hair covered most of her face, as her body rose and fell with every breath, equally as slow as her makeshift nightlight. She wore long sleeved, red polkadot pyjamas.
At the sight of her, Tristan smiled and sighed at the same time, not sure how to feel about it. Quietly he closed the door to the hallway, and walked over to her in the dim light he was left with. Gentle as he could he tried to shake her awake by the shoulder.
"Annie?" He gave her a slightly harder shake. "Anya, I told you not to stay up playing games."
A soft groan left her as she stirred, and he caught the whisper of a 'piss off' somewhere in there that he chose to ignore. As she moved still drunken on dreams, her hand caught the mouse. The bright, white light of the screen come to life blinded the both of them. Through squinted eyes, Tristan could make out the sight of an official looking letter – one he had forgotten about in the busy past few weeks. Or maybe he had wanted to forget it.
As his eyes caught the words, he sighed and focused back on Annie who was now awake enough to be aware of her surroundings. He grabbed the armrest of the desk chair and slowly spun it around so she wouldn't be faced with the letter.
"Why were you reading that?" He asked as Anya rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Despite her tiredness, she caught on immediately, her expression sinking.
"They released mum, she'll come back Monday..."
He didn't need any more explanations to that sentence, his own chest tightening just at the idea. He sighed and squatted down before her, looking up at her as he gave her cheek a comforting stroke.
"She doesn't hurt you, does she? You know sooner or later she'll go back to jail." It was difficult to be both worried and reassuring, but he still tried his best. He always tried his best for her, it was why he was smiling despite the deep pain in his chest and his rising nausea.
Anya shook her head a little distraught, but it eased his worry.
"She ruins everything, she'll be screaming and fighting. Why can't she just be normal?" Anya asked him softly, and he saw the reflection of tears shimmer down her cheeks. He felt a deep stab pierce his chest, and the pain radiated all the way up to his throat, making it difficult to speak. I don't know...
"Hey, it'll be fine." He said as he wiped her tears away and gave her hair a little ruffle. She tried to smile, but didn't get far before her lip started to tremble. "Come on, let's have a good talk." He stood up again and put his arm around her shoulder, guiding her to the couch.

As she sat down besides him, she pulled her knees up to her chest and laid her chin in the small nook between them. Quite blankly she stared ahead of her, despite Tristan's best efforts to make her comfortable by taking out a thin, fleece blanket and wrapping it around her.
"If she ever does anything, you can come to me, or to grandma's house. You can even run to my dad and I promise I'll come get you." He rubbed her back while he spoke, in the hope that it would help her calm down.
But Anya shook her head again, tears in the corners of her eyes.
"I don't want to run... I just want a nice family..." She said softly with trembling voice, staring ahead at nothing in particular.
"Annie..." His voice trailed off into silence as he thought about what to say or do that could ever make things better. "I know, I know that it hurts and there's nothing you or I can do right now. But you'll grow up, and the moment you can leave I'll be right there for you. It's just a few more years, alright? It'll only be a bad memory soon." With a soft grip on her shoulders, he tried to shake his words into her, as if they would somehow reach her better that way. At least it caused her to nod, and he could only hope that giving her a way out would be enough.
"Promise me." She demanded, but the strength of her words got caught in her knees as she talked into them. He didn't hesitate to pull her in for a tight hug, balled up legs and all.
"I promise. Things will get better." As he said it, she unfurled a little and leant into the hug. He let her for as long as she needed, rubbing her back and holding her close. "You know I'm going to make the world a better place, so don't you worry."
"You're a big wuss..." Anya whispered back, but the words only made him smile and nod, proud to be the biggest wuss if that was what would make things better.