They used to fight. My mom and dad. A lot. I was raised in a house of noise. I was used to the never ending sounds. They were a part of me. But that didn’t mean I liked it.
Their voices floated through the house as if on waves, drifting ashore in my room. I shut the door. Noise. Even my door seems to be crying. But this is when my head gets quiet. When the whole house holds the noise in its palms and I leave. My mind takes me elsewhere.
In my head I see pyramids, and then oceans, and tall mountains. But these moments never last long. But last time I came back too soon. I woke up and the noise knocked me down. The floor caught me, but it still hurt. A surge of pain zipped up my back and it felt like I’d been stung by thousands of merciless bees. But the fighting went on. My mind had abandoned me. I couldn’t get away, and I cried. I sat on the floor, too weak to get up. I tried, but my legs kept telling me no. So there, in the middle of my room, criss-cross on the floor, I remained, crying, listening, and trying to escape.
I never did. I listened to the anger in their voices until I couldn’t take it anymore. It was too much, and I shattered. I shattered like millions of glasses to the floor.
But no one heard it. There was too much noise. Stop it, I screamed. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. I beat on the floor with my fists, but no one heard it. There was too much noise. I threw the books and jumped on the bed, but no one heard it. There was too much noise.
Then just like that, I was back in my place. Floating through the sky on the back of an eagle. I could see the whole city from up in the sky. We saw my house, but I didn’t recognize it. It seemed too peaceful to be mine. Sitting there, smiling as if nothing had happened. But something had happened. It had. And even in my place I could not escape it. The eagle turned to me, and spoke, but I could not hear him. The wind whistled through my ears and his voice was lost. The eagle frowned at me, and I awoke, crying still, to silence. But in that silence I could hear my heart beating close to termination and the tears sounded like waterfalls down my cheeks.
And then, so scared of what I could hear, I wished for noise.
And even still, silence scares me. But I'd take it over the screaming and snickering. That just breaks me.
YOU ARE READING
Welcome to Tinsel Town
Non-FictionTinsel Delaney tells her whole life story and holds nothing back. Follow her through her parents' divorce, her first time masturbating, and dealing with the death of a lover. It's as psychotic as she is. (Vignette style)
