What We Never Said

The Silence

The ride home felt endless. Charles didn’t say a word, and neither did I. The car was filled with only the low hum of the AC and the sound of the tires rolling on the road. My chest was tight, my hands still trembling from everything that had just happened.

I kept my eyes fixed out the window, refusing to look at him. My mind was running but also blank at the same time. The way he fought David. The way he dragged me out. The way he said “you’re mine.” It all replayed in my head, and it made my stomach twist.

When the car finally stopped in front of the house, I didn’t even wait. I grabbed my bag, pushed the door open, and rushed out before he could say anything. My legs carried me inside quickly, almost like I was running from him.

I heard him call my name faintly, but I didn’t stop.

Straight up the stairs, straight to my room.

I locked the door, dropped my bag on the floor, and walked into the bathroom. My whole body felt heavy, my throat sore from holding back tears. I pulled off my clothes, turned on the shower, and stepped in.

The cold water hit me first, but I didn’t flinch. I wanted it that way. I wanted the water to shock me, to quiet the storm in my head. I stood under the stream, letting it wash over my skin, my hair, my face. My breaths came in shaky pulls, but slowly, slowly, they steadied.

I pressed my palms against the tiles, eyes closed, and tried not to think. But of course, I did.

Charles’s face. His anger. His voice when he said I belonged to him.

I hated how my heart jumped remembering it. I hated how part of me wanted to believe him even after everything.

I stayed there until the water started to feel too cold, then finally stepped out, wrapped a towel around myself, and sat on the edge of my bed.

College. I remembered suddenly. I still had applications to fill.

I sighed, lying back for a moment, staring at the ceiling. I didn’t want to think about essays and forms, but there was no escaping it. Everyone in the house kept asking me about it. Mom, Dad, even Jesse. I had to do it.

But tonight? My head was too full.

I pushed the thought aside, threw on a large T-shirt, and crawled under my blanket. Sleep dragged me down before I knew it.

The next morning came faster than I expected. The sunlight cut through the curtains, and I squinted, groaning. My body felt heavy, but I forced myself up.

Another shower, this time quick, with warm water. I changed into simple clothes—jeans and a plain top—then dragged myself downstairs.

Mom was already at the table, serving breakfast. Dad had his newspaper open, glasses perched on his nose, while Jesse scrolled on his phone. It was just another morning for them, but I felt like a stranger in my own body.

I sat down, quietly took bread and eggs onto my plate, and forced myself to eat. The food didn’t taste like much. I kept chewing slowly, nodding when Mom asked if I was okay.

“You’ve been looking stressed lately,” she said. “Don’t overwork yourself with those applications.”

“I’ll be fine,” I muttered, though my chest tightened.

After breakfast, I excused myself and went back upstairs.

This time, I sat properly at my desk, pulled out my laptop, and opened the college application site. The blank spaces stared at me—name, essays, extracurriculars. My fingers hovered over the keys before I finally started typing.

Paragraph after paragraph, form after form. I poured my energy into it, anything to keep my mind off last night.

At some point, my phone buzzed on the table.

I glanced at it.

Charles.

A text.

My chest tightened immediately. I didn’t open it. I flipped the phone face down and went back to typing.

Hours passed like that. Typing, erasing, typing again. My back started to ache, my eyes burned from staring at the screen, but I refused to stop.

The sun went down, the sky outside my window turning dark. The house grew quieter. I didn’t even notice until I yawned, realizing how late it was.

I stretched, shutting my laptop. My phone was still face down, but I could see the light blinking. More messages. Maybe calls. I didn’t touch it.

I sighed, leaning back against my chair. My mind felt foggy, my body tired. I thought about showering again before bed.

But then—

Knock.

Soft. Against the window.

I froze.

For a second, I thought I imagined it. I turned slowly, heart already racing.

And then it came again. Three sharp taps against the glass.

My stomach flipped as I stared at the curtains, the outline of the window barely lit from the streetlight outside.

Someone was there.