The Cost of Silence

The Cost of Silence chapter 2

Chapter 2

 "Amy, you need to wake up now." My mother's voice entered my mind, but as usual, I decided to go ahead and  ignore it. She tried again. "Amy Davis, I know you can hear me. Wake up. We're home." When I still didn't reply, she just gave up, also as usual. I heard my mother get out of the car and walk into the house. I was all set to just stay in the car forever, pretending to sleep, but Stella had other plans.

"Amyyyy!" she yelled, knocking on the car window, "wake uppp!"

I opened my eyes and found myself staring in the eyes of my adorable little sister, Stella Davis. I opened the door and Stella crawled up into my lap. Being only 4 years old, she idolized me. I hugged her tight and buried my face in her hair. It was hard to believe that being 15, I was 11 years older then her. She was still the person I loved the most in the world. Maybe even the only person. I would do anything for her. 

I was lost in my train of thought, and Stella noticed.

"Amy," she said, looking up at me, "what's wrong?" Stella always knew when something wasn't right. With everyone. I just shrugged.

"Nothing, darling," I promised, "everything's okay. I'm fine." Stella obviously didn't believe me, but she let it go.

"Okay..." she said, climbing out of the car, "let's go inside!" Stella started to skip up the porch, but stopped when I didn't follow.

Not wanting her to worry, I said "go on, Stella, I'll be there in a minute." Stella nodded and ran inside. Before the door closed behind her, I saw our dad standing in the house, looking out at me. I just glared at him, and he shut the door.

 Wanting to keep Stella happy, I got out of the car and walked onto the porch. I couldn't stop thinking about Stella. I loved her more then anything. She was the only person I would actually talk freely to. She was just so innocent. 

I opened the door and walked inside, ignoring the voices coming from the kitchen. I wanted to go straight to my room, but on my way there, I had to walk right by the kitchen, and I couldn't help but overhear my parents conversation.

"Where were you guys," my dad was demanding. He demanded things a lot.

"I told you, I took Amy to that new counselor," my mom said, sounding tired. I could tell that she had already told my dad this. But apparently, my dad wasn't too happy about it.

"Right, that crazy one, with really unorthodox methods." he said, getting angrier. I couldn't disagree with him there, she did have pretty unorthodox methods, but I didn't think that she was crazy. Just a little odd.

I stopped paying attention to their argument when I noticed that Stella was in the kitchen, sitting at the table. She was trying to be invisible, which was something she had picked up from me. Thankfully, she was doing it well. I didn't want her involved with my parents fighting. I didn't want her in the kitchen right now at all, actually. I knew that I might get yelled at, but I didn't care. I walked into the kitchen and picked Stella up. I didn't say anything, but I was still noticed. Of course.

My dad noticed me first. "just what do you think you're doing?" he demanded, walking up to us. Stella and i both ignored him, which was the smartest thing to do. i turned and started to walk out of the kitchen. that is, until my dad grabbed Stella.

He ripped her out of my arms and put her on the counter. Stella was tough, but I could tell that she was about to cry. Stella hated it when our dad got rough.

"Don't touch her!" I almost yelled, thoroughly pissed off. My dad only laughed - he thought it was amusing when I got upset, especially when he was the one who made it that way.

"Oh, would you look at that, you can talk after all!" he said with mock excitement. He turned to my mom. "Look Carol," he went on, "our daughter can actually talk! Who knew?" My mom just stood there, like she always did.

"Denny, stop," she said quietly. That was the most she would ever do. Say a couple words in our defense and then stay out of it, like always. And also like always, everyone ignored her.

"Yes, i'll talk," I said, "but leave Stella out of this." When my dad didn't say anything, I said, "Stella, go to your room and play with your barbies. I'll be up there soon. Okay?"

Stella nodded and quietly jumped down from the counter and ran off to her room. Our parents were too preoccupied with me to stop her.

I could tell that something big was going to happen, so I sat down at the table. if I was going to get into a fight, I wanted to be comfortable. Not surprisingly, my mom didn't want to get involved, and she slipped out of the room, probably to go comfort Stella. As if she knew how. Only I knew how to comfort her. My dad, however, was getting angrier by the minute, and I suspected that me talking had something to do with it.

My mom may want me to talk, but my dad liked it best when I shut up and stayed out of the way. Which usually worked for me.

"Who the hell do you think you are," he said, "walking into my home and being disrespectful." I didn't say anything. What was there to say? My dad went on anyways.

"You're tearing this family apart, piece by piece." I was used to this lecture. I heard it almost every day. I made a big show of yawning, and then I got up and poured myself some lemonade. Before I could put the glass to my lips, though, my dad knocked it onto the table, shattering it. Still, I said nothing.

"You little bitch," he snarled, grabbing my wrist. That did it. I spit in his face and jerked out of his grasp. In the process, my hand slammed down on the counter. The counter covered in broken glass. For a moment, my father and I both stared at the gash in my hand, that was now bleeding. Honestly, it wasn't that bad of a cut, but it memorized us both. This was the first time I had ever been physically injured during an argument with my father.

He seemed to realize that too, and looked me in the eyes. "I didnt do shit," he said, "you tripped. You know that." I did know that. Technically, he hadn't hurt me. Not physically anyways. The cut was just an accident. I wasn't going to let him know that, though.

"Yes, Denny," I practically growled. I refused to call him 'dad' to his face. It thoroughly angered him, but I didn't care.

Before he could say anything, I turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving him with the mes to clean up. I ran up to my room, forgetting about my mom and Stella for the moment. I managed to make it to my bed before the tears came. I lay on my bed, crying and holding my bleeding hand. After a while, I fell asleep, still crying.

Authors Note:

TA DAAAA! I finished the second chapter!(: I don't know about you guys, but I think that this story is going to turn out pretty good. I have a lot of stuff in mind for it. ;D

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