Silence

Chapter 4 - Echo

Maria

I decide on Hennessy. I don't drink often, but when I do, I drink it straight. Never saw the point of a chaser-I'd rather just rehydrate. So I grab a bottle of water and head up to the counter.

The cashier looks out of it. Like something's wrong.

"Are you okay?"

I mean it. Something about her makes me feel like she won't judge me for asking.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, I'm fine." She eyes me curiously. "Day off?"

"Yep. Today and tomorrow."

"I get off in an hour," she says as she rings me up. "Wanna hang? I've got a bottle of Cuervo back at my place."

"Sure." I surprise myself with how quickly I say it-but not entirely. She feels... safe. Comforting. Familiar in a way I can't explain. Like she echoes me. I wanted to ask her something, anything, but couldn't work up the nerve.

She did it like it was nothing.

"I'd love to."

...

We've only been hanging out a few hours, but it already feels like I've known her for years. Lilac is different from other people. Easy. She makes space for me without even trying. I can tell she's comfortable too-she talks out loud to the voices in her head like it's second nature. And the way she says it? I believe her.

More than that-I don't think she'd lie to me.

"Oh, shut up."

"I didn't say anything," I giggle, tipsy from the tequila. "I was waiting for you to finish."

Still giggling when she answers.

"Not you, boo. Fuckin' dipshits interrupted me again." She sighs, then pauses, thinking.

"You forget what you were saying?" I ask, amused.

"s**t!" she blurts, and we both burst into laughter.

The rest of the night flies by-drinks, laughter, shared secrets. By the end of it, we're the best of friends. Sworn sisters.

When I leave, I see a dark car pull up to her house. A tall, lanky man gets out, slams the door, and walks up to hers.

I want to check on her.

But people like that scare the s**t out of me.

Lilac

He slams the door open.

I'm still drunk as hell from hanging out with Maria. Thank God she already left.

But something's different.

He seems... angry.

He's never angry. Not when he's here.

Maybe he's finally done with us.

Oh boo, don't think like that. He's way too sexy to be mad.

Dear Jesus, please save me from my demons. They've plagued me too long.

"What are you on?" His voice is a growl.

"I was getting drunk with a new friend," I say, gesturing at the bottles. "She's fun."

"Long as you're not on someone else's shit."

He saunters over to the sofa and drops down like he owns the place.

Which he does.

He just doesn't technically live here.

He lets out a long, tired sigh. "Come here, Bunny."

I obey.

Even drunk, I know not to argue when he doesn't immediately go for s*x.

"Do you know why I'm pissed off?" he asks.

I sink to my knees at his feet, shaking my head.

"Of course you wouldn't know, Bunny." His fingers stroke my hair-rough and gentle, all at once. "You're just an innocent little rabbit. No, I'm upset because I had to deal with the cops. Again."

He fists my hair as he says the word again. It stings, but it feels good too.

He rants. Paces. Vents. But somewhere in the middle, I stop hearing him.

All I can focus on is the visible bulge in his pants.

I snap out of it when he yanks my head back by the hair, forcing my eyes to his.

"Were you even listening? Fuckin' brat."

I can feel the heat rising in my face.

I didn't know him being mad at me would make me this horny.

"Sick b***h," he mutters. "My sweet, dumb little bunny."

He leans down, mouth to my ear, voice low and dark.

"I'm gonna make you loud enough to echo."

Conrad

I finish up, toss her a new bag, and head out.

I don't need to stay. Don't want to.

She was drunk. Wasn't even listening to a damn word I said.

I hate when she's like that. How the hell am I supposed to vent if she won't listen?

Stupid brat.

The thought sits bitter in my mouth as I pull up to Joey's place. I barely register how fast I've been driving.

Like some part of me wanted to crash.

...

We've been talking for hours. Well-I've been talking for hours.

Joey doesn't seem to mind. Just sits there, nursing a beer, nodding along.

I rant about the cops. The missing money. The heat.

And then, somewhere in the middle, I start talking about her.

Didn't even realize it at first.

But Joey leans in, eyes locked on me, tracking every word like he's waiting for something.

"...she just doesn't fuckin' get it. I want her to be good. To listen to me..."

The words are still hanging in the air when I finally hear them.

I stop. Swallow.

"You realize you sound fuckin' crazy right now?" Joey leans back, takes a long swig.

"Shit..."

But he's not judging. He's just honest.

The judgment's coming from me.

I didn't realize how... possessive I've gotten with her.

When the hell did that happen?

...

We chill a bit longer. Smoke. Drink. Talk about everything and nothing.

At one point, Joey looks over at me. "You gotta figure out who this girl is to you, man."

I don't answer.

Because I don't want to.

But I see it every time I touch her. The way she breathes easier. Calmer. Like I ground her. Like I'm something solid in the noise.

She's attached.

And the worst part?

So am I.

But I'm not her savior.

I'm just an echo of who I wanted to be.

...

I wanted to be a doctor once. Had a plan. School. Med track.

Wanted to help people.

Wanted to save my dad.

Now I sell the kind of s**t that would've killed him faster.

Now I stay cold. Detached. Hardened.

Do everything I can not to care about anyone but myself.

And I f*****g hate it.