Shattered Silence

Chapter 12

I angrily pulled down my mask and flung off my hood.

God damn it!

I'm so fucking stupid. Why did I fall asleep? Why couldn't I have stayed awake for another half an hour? Why didn't I specify that she was supposed to come alone? Why did I give her my address?

I quickly ran my hands through my hair and over my face before walking over to my wall of photos and maps. I looked back and forth between the spot where Sam and Charlie were standing and the wall of photos.

I replayed Sam's movements in my head. He stepped forward and looked around the room. His gaze was in direct eyeline of the wall. He saw everything. The phone call wasn't real. It was a ploy to get out of the house and go to the police.

Fuck!

I ran my hands through my hair again before agressively pulling them off my head and slamming one of my fists into the wall. I harshly ran my hands down the pictures, pulling the thumb tacks out of the wall and sending them tumbling onto the ground. I slid my fingers behind the picures and pulled them off the wall, throwing them onto the floor before moving onto the maps and doing the same. I tore one of the newspaper articles off of the wall and ripped it up, letting each of the small pieces fall onto the ground.

Fuck!

I slid my arms across the table against the wall and pushed everything off. Everything came crashing onto the floor with everything else. Glass shattered and mixed with the ripped up papers and pictures. I wrapped my fingers around the edge of the table and aggressively pulled my arms back, pulling the table with them and sending it flying across the room.

Fuck!

Why did I think I could trust them? They're going to call the fucking police and I'm gonna have to kill more people than I wanted. Killing wasn't easy, even if it was for revenge it still took it's toll on me.

I punched the wall several more times until the skin on my knuckles bruised and broke open. Blood slipped down my fingers and transferred onto the wall. I felt tears slide down my face but I ignored them and continued to take my rage out on the wall.

I was so worked up and angry, I didn't hear the front door open again. Nor did I hear Charlie calling my name as she walked in.

"Vex? I forgot to ask y-" She stopped and saw the state I was in before calling for Sam.

Sam ran in, pistol in his hand, ready to fight. Charlie stepped closer to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged her hand off and kicked the wall. Sam pulled Charlie back and walked over to me, trying to get a hold on my wrists to stop me from hurting myself.

I wanted to scream but I couldn't. I can't make a fucking noise because of those assholes. Even when they're dead, I still feel their presence. I'm constantly reminded by that night with the large scar across my neck and my inability to speak.

I continued to punch and kick the wall until I couldn't anymore. My punches grew softer and my arms grew weak. I let my hand collide with the wall again sofly, holding it there for a second before letting it fall limply at my side. I rested my forehead against my forearm that was positioned against the wall and let out a silent sob.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and another on my waist, pulling me away from the now blood stained, cracked, and dented wall and the mess below it. I didn't bother trying to fight whoever had their hands on me. I was too tired. I let them pull me away from the wall and mess, not caring what happened to me now.

I thought my job was done. I thought I would be free of the anger and deep hatred that filled my body. I was wrong. It was still there. So were the scars. The constant reminders.

More tears streamed down my face as my knees gave out beneath me. I was caught by two strong arms before I could collide with the hardwood floor. They lowered me down slowly to the floor. I didn't bother looking up. I just wanted to die.

Sam wrapped his arms around me as I fell into his lap, curling into myself and letting out silent sobs. I forced my eyes shut and rested my hands on my head, my fingers tugging and pulling at my hair as I continues to breakdown.

I buried my face into the bottom of Sam's shirt, not caring that I just met the man twenty minutes ago. He looked down at me and then up to Charlie, a somewhat sympathetic look. He rested a hand on my shoulder and brushed his thumb over the fabic covering my skin.

Why did this happen to me? Why couldn't I have a normal life? Why were my parents so stupid? Why did I think getting revenge would do anything for me?

I let out another quiet sob and curled farther into myself, my head sliding down to Sam's thigh, my cheek resting against his jeans. Tears slid across the bridge of my nose and fell onto his leg. I removed my sore hands from my hair and let them fall, one of them tucking underneath my body, and the bloodier one resting palm down on Sam's leg.

I don't know how long I laid there for, nor do I know when I stopped crying and finally calmed down. All I know is that at some point, I fell asleep in Sam's comforting arms, my head still resting on his upper thigh and my bloody-knuckled hand gripping onto the fabric of his jeans above his knee. One of his arms was draped over me, his hand resting on my upper arm, like it was earlier, and his other arm laying in front of me, his hand brushing a thumb over mine as he held it and tried to keep me calm.