𝕊𝕋𝕆ℝ𝕀𝔼𝕊 𝔽ℝ𝕆𝕄 𝔸 𝕎𝕆ℝ𝔻 ～ 𝘑𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘔𝘤𝘈𝘷𝘰𝘺

60 - [RT] Piacular

P I A C U L A R
adjective [pahy-ak-yuh-ler]

Expiatory; atoning; reparatory.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

You decided to remain silent and restrict your communication to a shake or nod of your head, a smile or frown of your lips, or the movement of your eyebrows and eyes. It was your version of an acute 'vow of silence'.

You realized a couple weeks ago that sometimes, what you say can cause a lot of discomfort to particular people... people that you care about, and you thought cared the same for you.

Your neighbor from two farms down, Robbie Turner is your only best friend in the suburban land where you live with your family. You have no siblings and your life isn't that eventful. With Robbie, you find some purpose within your day. He keeps you entertained and he isn't afraid to venture to the unknown.

But he hurt you two weeks ago... and you sadly haven't been the same since.

"Have the bread dear," Your mother said with an expression of concern, "You haven't eaten a thing since yesterday afternoon."

You looked at her with a frown then sighed. Out of respect, you speak to only your family, and that too only when necessary. "I'm not hungry mother. I will have something once I am," You told.

"Are you upset about something [y/n]? Did something happen?" She interrogated and you shook your head slowly as you got up from your seat on the dining table.

"May I be excused?" You asked flatly and she nodded her head.

You made your way towards the main door, a numbness consuming your mind and body as you felt as though nothing could stimulate your mood to become better. You wrapped your hand around the doorknob and turned your arm slowly to open the-

"Are you going to see Robbie?"

The name made you clench your jaw and shut your eyes with disappointment. You moved your hand away from the door then turned to walk to your bedroom instead. You didn't feel like going on a walk on your own anymore.

*****

You sat on your bed with your knees propped close to your chest, a sketchbook placed against your thighs. You were drawing a horse carriage that was parked outside the fence that followed around the land of your house. You had a decent backyard and front lawn.

The carriage had a compartment at the back that was filled to the brim with flowers of a variety of colors. They looked beautiful and you added them to your sketch.

You have found a new interest in art as a means to express yourself, and you have realized that it is helping you pass your time these days and keep your mind off your emotions.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

 You jerked a little in sudden fright at the loud sound that was at your front door. You got up from your bed and poked your head out of the open window to see who was at the door, but you couldn't catch any glimpses.

"[y/n], door please!" Your mother yelled from where you assumed was the kitchen.

You crept out of your room and walked down the corridor leading to the main door. You had a serious expression plastered onto your face as you reached for the door knob, and turned it slowly to unlock the door.

You opened the door a little then peeked outside to see who it was. You widened your eyes when you saw who it-

You immediately pushed the door to close but something got in its way. You noticed a shoe was placed in front of the door and you pressed on it to force it to close.