The Silence She Speaks✔

Eleven-Quinn

It was around one when the storm started. It was just a gentle rain at first, but it got worse as time passed. Hard pellets of rain collided with the window, creating gun-like sounds. I jumped as the loud thunder roared at me.

Alex had already gone to bed like the others, so I had nobody to stay with me. I walked over to the bed and grabbed Sam. Cradling him to my chest, I imagined Sammy comforting me. The way he always had when I was scared. He would hold me and tell me it was okay, and he would always have me hold Sam for protection.

Loud thunder boomed, making me think of his dying words. "I... love you." Tears began to flow down my cheeks as I trembled under the covers. Just the memory of that night horrified me.

I still remember my mom's words before she was shot: "This is all your fault! You're the reason that all of this happened!" It was me, I killed them. I killed Sammy, and Daddy, and Mama and Papa. I killed Uncle Joe and Uncle Morgan, Aunt Mary, Jojo, Chris, Jack, and Molly. I killed all of them, it's all my fault.

More thunder boomed and a burst of light came into my room. Lightning had struck. I cried out and squeezed Sam. I felt so alone, and so scared. I wanted my brother. I wanted Sammy to come back to me. No, I needed him to. I needed my best friend to come back to me.

Memories of that night came back to me instead of my brother. It was as if the thunder was pressing the rewind button on my brain. Like a broken record, her voice continued calling to me as the images played in my head. I could be convinced that I was in a theater watching a horror movie right now. The scariest, most evil, gut wrenching horror movie.

This wasn't a movie, though. This was real life. This was my life. And this was my fault.

Another thunderclap burst through the cold night air.

I saw Chris' face when my mom shot him from behind, and Molly's face when my mom put the gun to her head. They were horrified, and they both looked to me in complete despair. I let them die, I could have fought! I hate myself, more than anything else in the world, I hate myself!

It was all too real. I could feel, hear, see, even taste and smell it all. Panic coursed through me, the adrenaline pumping quickly in my veins. I wanted to get out, to escape. I wanted away from everything. It was all just piling up on top of me. I felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders.

I squeezed Sam tighter as the storm grew, my breath seeming harder and harder to catch. It was almost like every time I exhaled, I would inhale less in the next breath. If this was what Wisconsin weather was always like, then I want to move. I can't handle this kind of torture, I'd rather be with my grandpa. Grandpa never did anything to me during storms. He said the memories were punishment enough for me. Maybe he pitied me in that sense.

More thunder and more memories came. I cried out loudly, but nobody could hear me. I felt so alone and scared that I wanted to die. But dying wouldn't be much better. I sinned, so I was going down there. I killed people, so when I die, I'm going down there. Probably the worst part of that place too.

I did this to myself. Every single bad thing that has happened—and will happen—to me, is my fault. I shouldn't have made Mom get so angry. I shouldn't have been so bad and made her do the things she did.

I'm worse than the Devil himself.

I didn't want to think about that any longer, so I pushed those thoughts away. Bringing up as much courage as possible, I open the door. I closed it just as quick as I opened it. It was really dark out there, and the dark + a storm = no thank you.

I crawled back into bed, hid under the blankets, and shut my eyes. I didn't like it, though, since it was too dark. I slipped my head out from under the covers quickly, panicking more now. Like I said, the dark and a storm is a big no-go for me.