Loud Silence

Chapter Eighteen

"You ready?" Violet asks me as we take the final breath before she unlocks the door into a past that we have both entombed under many years of survival.

"Let's get it over with," I respond with certainty, mostly due to the fact that Taylor and Max have come along as our beams of support.

Apparently, Aunt Maggy died from a stroke in the backyard. Since she lived alone and had no friends or family, so her body wasn't discovered until three weeks later, when the neighbor's dog jumped over the fence and went digging in the snow to snag away one of her boots. The neighbor had tried to return the boot, and when no one came to the door after several days, she checked the backyard to find the body.

It's what they say; live a miserable life, die a miserable death. At least she had decided to give all of her estates to charity, so I guess one positive thing has resulted from her life and death.

We were told that there were some of our belongings left in the house and were asked to come pick it up. Violet and I had rejected the idea initially, but figured we should check to see if there was anything from our parents that was left behind.

Violet opens the door into the house of persecution. Not much has changed—the smell of old wood lingers, that hideous floral wallpaper is peeling from the wall in different spots, furniture placements remain unchanged, the stairway leading up to the forbidden floor stretching beyond us.

"Ok, so let's find our stuff and get the hell out of here," I command as we enter the doorway. "Violet and Max take upstairs, Taylor and I will be down here." We all agree and proceed to our tasks, wanting to complete it as quickly as possible.

Flicking on one of the light switches, I am glad to see the electricity is running, because these dark hallways still haunt me, especially when we reach a door on the left.

Beyond this door is the closet that we had called a room for many years, sharing secrets, playing pretend—pretending that we lived in a castle with a hundred rooms, sleeping in a different one every night on silk sheets and clouds that rained marshmallows.

I place my hand on the gold door handle, slowly twisting it to unlock the latch, pulling it open to reveal the four by four closet. It is completely empty now—the padded mat, blankets, and pillows are gone. It's so much smaller than I remembered, most likely due to the fact that I have been spoiled with the luxury of having a real bedroom these past few years.

"I can't believe Violet and I used to sleep in here," I admit.

"You guys slept in here?" His voice is deep and strained, and I notice that his jaw is locked tight, and I realize I have never told him this.

"Only until we were ten, then we moved to this hallway and only used the closet to store the beddings. Our clothes were hung in the bedroom closet upstairs in case the social worker showed up unannounced."

"How could you sleep in a hallway?"

"It wasn't as terrible as it sounded, because at least in the hall, we were able to stretch as far as our legs could reach. It had felt so good sleeping through the night like that, until Aunt Maggy came down and kicked us on her way to the kitchen, an alarm to wake up to. We eventually learned to hear her footsteps coming down the stairs and moved out of the way before she got to us."

He ponders on this for a second before pulling my head to his chest, not saying a single word, although his breathing had sped up.

"Hey," I say to him lightly, taking his face in my hands, "this is all behind us. Now we have our own bedrooms, and I even get to wake up to one of the most beautiful views of Chicago in your condo."