Sacred Silence

She stood at the edge of the lake. The wind was gently blowing her hair artistically in front of her eyes. The water was freezing, but only her feet were submerged. She waited for the tears that she longed for. She could feel the knot in her throat, but there was nothing to relieve it.1

The sun was beginning to set and it was getting late. She wanted to go home, but she knew as soon as she walked through the door the situation would worsen and fear consumed her. She had often thought of running away, but where to and how far? She had no money and no means of transportation. She was never going to get out of this cancer of a town. Here you either did drugs or flipped burgers for the rest of your life. She did neither, and that made her feel like a ghost. There was nothing to make her stand out, and she stood in the back and faded into the crowd.2

The moon was starting to come out and it shone with perfect radiance. “Why can’t I be like you. You’re so perfect,” she yelled at it sadly. The tears streamed down her cheek. Relief at last. She could feel her shoulders relaxing and losing tension. The only real feeling she had at the moment was the numbness of her feet.3

She had originally come out to the lake to drown herself, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. The bruises on her legs and arms told her story more clearly, and more coherently than she could. Her father was not one to anger, and her mother manipulated him into doing it so she wouldn’t be the one to get hurt. She hated both of them, and he had to get away.4

She picked her feet up out of the water and moved towards her house. Her legs seemed to be made of lead from standing in the icy water all afternoon. Every step was filled with trepidation and fear. She could feel the acid rising in her throat and she was beginning to shake. The house was starting to repel her like the opposite ends of a magnet, forcing her away. She had to push herself to continue any further.5

As she approached the house she could feel her heartbeat race with each step. She could hear the TV turned up all the way, and the window panes shook with the bass. Her hands shook as she reached towards the door. Her nerves were starting to burn under her skin, as if she were on fire.6

With caution she pushed the door open and slowly walked inside. What am I doing here, she thought, looking into the living room for a sign of her parents. She held her breath as she inspected her surroundings. She let out a sigh of relief when she decided they weren’t there, but only too soon.7

“Where have you been,” a voice said behind her. There was a soft crashing noise as he threw his glass against the wall. The pieces narrowly missed her.8

“I was out by the lake,” her voice barely above a whisper.9

“Talk in a normal tone of voice with me. It’d too cold to be out there. Who were you with, and don’t you lie to me,” he slurred.10

“I wasn’t with anybody. I’m not lying,” she muttered turning towards the stairs.11

She was halfway up when she felt is hand on her ankle. “Get back down here, I’m not through talking with you,” he yelled attempting to pull her down. She jerked her leg away and continued up the stairs.12

“I’m not taking this anymore,” she whispered. When she drew near her room she could see the mirror reflecting her mom passed out on the bed, a bruise slowly swelling on her cheek. She wanted to cheek on her, but she knew it wasn’t worth it.13

She locked her door and turned the stereo up. She didn’t want to hear her dad fuming downstairs and slamming the cabinets for some more to drink. Lying on the floor, she curled up in a ball in front of the speaker. A position she found comfort in these days. The music was starting to soothe her, and the lyrics hit closer to home than anything else. Dead as dead can be, the doctor tells me, but I just can’t believe him, ever the optimistic on I’m sure of, your ability to become my perfect enemy.14

“I need to leave this place,” she repeated over and over again through her tears, but the song was drowning her words out. So wake up, and face me, don’t play dead, ‘cuz maybe one day I will walk away and say, “You disappoint me. Maybe you’re better off this way.”15

She pushed herself off the floor and staggered to stand. Thinking for a moment she decided that after years of abuse, she was finally going to leave. She opened the window and looked down at the tree that was going to aid her escape. She held out a shaking hand and reached towards the tree, grabbing a limb. Her foot came next and she stood steadily on the tree. Climbing her way down, she ran as fast as she could towards the road before anyone would notice that she was gone. 16

Her mind must have been focusing on the pain of her legs, because she had no idea to where she was running. When she jerked to awareness she suddenly realized where she was. She was running towards the police station. She stopped in front of the door before entering. She didn’t know what she wanted to do, or what she was going to say, but it was a long time coming.17

She approached the front desk to the young police officer who was hovered over a large stack of papers. He looked up at her with surprise. His eyes wondered over her. The bruises on her arms and twigs in her hair seemed to alarm him. “Do you have a problem miss?” he asked. She nodded and he showed her the way to his office.18

“Name?”19

“Natalie Anderson.”20

“Address?”21

“752 Walnut Lane.”22

“Crime?”23

“Physical and verbal abuse from my father…”24

Her voice falter at this last statement. Hearing this out loud finalized that nobody will lay a hand on her again. She smiled and closed her eyes in the chair and fell asleep. Wonder what will happen next, she thought.25