The Silence She Speaks✔

Thirty-Mason

I stood frozen in the living room as I heard Quinn screaming and crying in the kitchen. Mom and Dad were in there with her, trying to get her to calm down, but how could she? How could Quinn calm down with the news she had just been given?

"She isn't dead!" Quinn screamed. "Shut up! I hate you!"

"Quinn, she's gone sweetie," Mom called over her cries. "Please, baby, I know it's hard, but—"

"Hard? It's hard? You're lying to me and saying that my mom is dead! You're saying she shot herself in the head! You're telling me that my mom is dead, and I never got to see her because you're afraid of her! Stop lying to me like this! I hate you! I wish I never came to this stupid house!" Quinn erupted.

"Quinn, baby girl, you don't mean that," Dad said softly—brokenheartedly.

"Get away!" Quinn screeched. "Get away from me!" I could hear her hyperventilating as she choked out the word "no" over and over. Eventually, there was a thump and Mom burst into tears.

I watched with wide eyes as Quinn was carried out of the kitchen. Her closed eyes were swollen, her cheeks red and tear-stained, and her sweat-soaked body trembling. Her pretty blonde hair was disheveled and barely kept in its ponytail, and she was so drained of color that she blended in with her white shirt.

This was my sister. My scared, broken, hurt little sister. She restlessly slept in Dad's arms, which rocked her gently while he walked. He looked at me with tired, blood-shot eyes, then turned away and carried Quinn upstairs.

I collapsed onto the couch and stared blankly at the ceiling. Quinn still loved her mom, everybody could tell, but now she was gone. Quinn was officially an orphan. My other siblings and I still had parents out there, and we're constantly told that we're allowed to contact them at anytime, but Quinn is now an orphan. Quinn can't go visit her parents unless she stands in front of two gravestones.

Why is life so cruel to her? What did she do to deserve this? She's eleven for crying out loud! What eleven-year-old does something so bad that they have to deal with this? Did she steal a freaking cookie from her classmate or something? Knowing Quinn, she would give it back right after and apologize like a broken record.

I cursed loudly and got up to punch the wall, furious with everything. A list of everything I hate flowed through my mind as my fist pounded the wall.

Quinn's mom. Punch.

Quinn's grandpa. Punch.

The bullies. Punch.

Sammy dying. Punch.

Quinn's pain. Punch.

That stupid social worker and her book. Punch.

Me. Slam!

Wait, slam? Why does my back hurt? Why are my hands pinned over my head?

"Mason! C'mon buddy, you have to come back to me!" Devin yelled. I could hear him, but I couldn't see him. My mind just kept on flashing images of Quinn crying. My cheek was lightly slapped until I could see my brother's face. Tears were in his eyes while he looked down at me, one hand pinning me while the other giving me one last light slap.

"Devin?" I mumbled.

"Mason, what are you doing?" Devin yelled at me. "Your hand looks awful! Why were you punching the wall, you idiot?"

"Quinn," I choked out with tears welling up in my eyes. "She's hurting, Dev. She's an orphan, a-and she's all alone. I-I can't even hel-help her."

"Mason, her mom is still—"