Silence

Silence

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing52m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, Sep 26, 2020
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Fiction
Mystery
There are six people living in a house. There are women The first woman manages the menu, checks the situation of the house and checks on the 5 other persons. She knows every truth even by just seeing them and does not matter if she cannot hear the better version of the truth. The second woman prepares dinner with the third woman, cleans the house entirely by herself, water the small plants inside the house and looks the beauty of the outside world. She is fascinated with beauty that she cannot see the whole truth until it is slapped on her. The third woman does not see the truth lies every person. She only knows them by their touch. There are men. The first man tries to fix what might be broken inside and outside of the house. He sees every small detail of the house and knows all parts of the truth but keeps moving forward by lying to himself. The second man assists the first man, or whomever he could help with. He just follows and follows, not even doing anything to know what's really happening around him. The third man takes advantage of every single things and does nothing but chaos. He does not hide it, so everybody knows. Of course, you are confused with the set up. They don't talk to each other but rather communicate with each movements they can give to one another. It is a form of respect to one another until such time it disappears. They all lived in silence in one house. Trying to trust each other. But their thoughts are as loud as the cries of the suffering sinners in hell. For the truth always kills them to be revealed to the world. Silence is their haven until it gets louder and louder.
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"Why do you care?" he asks. But it's not soft. It's sharp, defensive, like he's already bracing for the answer. I want to tell him the truth. Because you saved me. Because you're the only one who makes me feel real. Because if you fall apart, I don't know what happens to the rest of us. Instead, I just say, "Maybe I want to understand." He scoffs, no humor in it. "You don't. Trust me." Silence stretches between us. Then he steps forward, close enough that I can see the way his hands won't stop shaking. "You already know too much," he says, voice low. "More than you ever should've." I don't look away. "Then tell me the rest." He shakes his head. "It's not your place. You don't get to ask." "But I am asking." He exhales sharply. "Jesus, Lily. This isn't a story with a clean ending. I'm not a mystery. I'm a goddamn warning sign. I'm dangerous." I flinch, but I don't move. And that pisses him off more. He takes a step back like he's going to leave, then pauses. His eyes flick to my jacket. In one quick motion, he reaches in and pulls out the burner phone. "I think this belongs to me," he says, tone sharp but quiet. No accusation. Just fact. I don't respond. Just watch as he slips it into his pocket, like closing a door I wasn't supposed to open. He looks at me for one long second, jaw clenched. "Go home," he says again, this time like a warning. And this time, I believe him. He crushes the cigarette under his boot, turns his back, and walks down the alley, leaving me standing in the dark. - Lily didn't ask to be assigned to him. Harry Styles is a name whispered like a warning, famous for his ink, infamous for everything else. Brooding. Untouchable. But Lily has a habit of looking too closely. And when she finds something she shouldn't, the line between curiosity and consequence begins to blur. He told her to stay away. She should've listened. - TW: emotional abuse, manipulation, drugs, sex, violence, trauma.

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