What Was Left Behind
899 Words
Bailey’s POV
It had only been one week.
Seven days since everything changed.
Seven days since the house stopped feeling like home.
The silence was the worst part, not the peaceful kind,not the kind that lets you think.
This silence was heavy.
It sat in the corners of every room, in every hallway, in every space where voices used to exist.
I sat on the floor of my bedroom, my back against the bed, staring at nothing.
My mother’s scarf was still hanging on the chair.
My father’s shoes were still by the door.
Everything was still there.
Except them.
I pulled my knees closer to my chest, wrapping my arms around myself like that would somehow hold me together.
But it didn’t.
Nothing did.
People kept coming in and out of the house during the past week.
Relatives. Neighbors. Voices I didn’t recognize.
They all said the same things.
“Stay strong.”
“They’re in a better place.”
“You’ll be okay.”
But none of those words stayed.
They passed through me like air because how do you stay strong when the only people who made you feel safe are gone?
How do you move forward when everything behind you has collapsed?
I closed my eyes slowly.
But even that didn’t help.
Because memories don’t disappear when you close your eyes.
They get louder.
The accident.
I hated that word.
It made everything sound small.
Like what happened could be explained in a single sentence.
But it couldn’t.
Nothing about losing both your parents in one moment is simple.
Nothing about it is something you just… accept.
I pressed my fingers into my palms, trying to stop my thoughts from spiralling.
But they didn’t stop. They never did.
“You can’t stay here alone.”
My aunt’s voice echoed from earlier that morning.
“You’ll go back to Brazil,” she had said gently. “Your grandparents will take care of you.”
Brazil.
The word felt distant.
Like something from a life I used to have.
Before Australia.
Before everything changed.
Before I lost contact with everyone I once knew.
Before I lost him.
Noah.
The name came quietly.
Softly.
But it hit deeper than I expected.
I hadn’t thought about him in a long time.
Not because I forgot.
But because remembering felt… unfinished.
We were young.
Too young to understand what we had.
But we felt it anyway.
In the way we stayed close.
In the way we didn’t need to explain things to each other.
In the way leaving him felt like something inside me had been cut off too early.
I shifted slightly, resting my head against the bed.
We never said goodbye properly.
No promises.
No “we’ll stay in touch.”
Just distance.
And time.
And eventually… silence.
I swallowed hard.
“Do you still remember me?” I whispered into the empty room.
The question lingered in the air, unanswered.
Of course it would be.
Eight years is a long time.
People change.
Feelings fade.
Lives move on.
At least… that’s what I told myself.
But right now, sitting in a house that no longer felt like mine…
I realized something, Some things don’t fade.
They just stay buried.
I stood up slowly and walked toward the window.
Outside, everything looked normal.
Cars passing.
People walking.
The world continued like nothing had happened.
It felt unfair.
How everything could keep moving when mine had stopped.
I pressed my forehead lightly against the glass.
“I don’t have anything left here,” I said quietly.
And it was true.
Everything that tied me to this place was gone.
All that was left were memories.
And they hurt too much to stay with.
The decision didn’t feel like a decision.
It felt like the only option.
A one-way ticket,a packed suitcase.
A life I didn’t recognize anymore.
At the airport, everything felt distant.
Like I was watching myself move instead of actually living it.
My aunt hugged me tightly.
“You’ll be okay,” she whispered.
I nodded.
Not because I believed her.
But because I didn’t have the strength to say otherwise.
The plane took off slowly.
And I watched as the city disappeared beneath me.
Australia.
The place I had called home for eight years.
The place that gave me everything…
and then took everything away.
I didn’t cry.
Not this time.
The tears had already come and gone.
Now, there was just emptiness.
Brazil greeted me quietly.
No excitement.
No relief.
Just… arrival.
My grandparents were waiting.
Their eyes filled with concern, with love, with something soft that I didn’t know how to respond to.
I hugged them.
But it felt distant.
Like I was trying to feel something that hadn’t reached me yet.
That night, I lay in a new room.
A different ceiling,a different silence.
But the same emptiness.
I stared up for a long time.
Not thinking,just existing.
Then, slowly, one thought slipped through.
Noah.
I closed my eyes.
And for the first time since everything happened…
something shifted.
Not happiness.
Not comfort.
But something familiar.
Something that didn’t feel completely broken.
“I’m back,” I whispered into the darkness.
Not knowing what that really meant.
Not knowing if anything was waiting for me.
But knowing one thing for certain.
This wasn’t just a return.
It was the beginning of something unfinished.
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