Unprofessional

Speaking Silence

They made me spill my secrets to them like blood. In return, I only heard their silence. ~ Anastasia Yuliana

🤍

Anastasia Yuliana whimpered in her rest.

Her head dipping softly into the pillow tucked underneath her delicate neck, her cries were quietly absorbed into its plush material. Again, she whimpered, a child lost in a very bad dream, yet somehow still able to muffle the sound of her distress from other's consciousness.

No one should've been able to hear her silent brokenness. No one had before. For the longest time, she'd fought the realm of darkness alone, enduring the hell of the dreams that plagued her on the darkest of nights. In moments of stress and desperation, her mind weakened and played very mean tricks on her. It took advantage over whatever feelings sickened her to weaken her resilience. Completely defenseless, the nightmares of her past tortured her senses and unconsciousness.

She let another cry go, her eyes securely closed as she tumbled, paralyzed in the nightmare holding her captive.

No one should've heard her pain.

No person had before.

Benedict awoke to the noise of her crying into her pillow. Dark still, he blinked confusedly, burry eyes heavy with drowsiness, searching the cool room for the mysterious sound. After a few moments of silence, he sniffed, grumbling unhappily at having awoken for nothing. He repositioned himself beneath the sheet that kept him and his lover warm. Burrowing into his pillow, he was just closing his eyes once more when he heard her weep again.

Immediately, alarmed, he twisted to look at her monitor that was on the dresser next to him. She was in bed, resting, placid without movement, but again, he heard her helpless and unmistakable cries.

Without thought, leaving his husband's side, he went to see to his babygirl, terribly worried at what had her so upset at this early hour. He managed to make it down both pair of stairs without missing or slipping over any steps, quickly turning into the dark hallway outside her room.

He crept over to her door, and carrying himself lightly, he pressed his head to the closed door, listening. Holding his breath, he waited until the silence was disturbed again because of her dreams. The fatigue that had melted him into his bed just minutes before evaporated, his heart clutched at his baby's tears.

Again, she cried.

Slowly, as not to make any noise, Ben reached for the key tucked up in the doorframe. He inserted the key into the lock, turning it as quietly as he could. The last thing he wanted was to scare her further with the fear of an intruder creeping in over her in the dead of night.

He peeked his head forward into the room. Her lamp was still lit, so the walls were washed in a calming yellow, her little nightlight in case she couldn't handle the dark solitude on her own. No other sound rang in the slumbering room, her little body curled neatly underneath her sheets.

His gaze soften at how she laid on the bed. Her entire frame was in a tight ball, as if trying to appear as small as possible. Her head, crowned with her beautiful pale gold locks, was sinking into the pillows tucked beneath her, her lips too pale to been seen in the dimness.

He could see her fair complexion, and tiptoeing near, noticed her face was flushed in the lightest of pinks. Oh, how he wanted to plant a kiss to one of her cheeks to feel the warmth of her skin. To wake her up from whatever troubled her and, holding her close, whisper she was safe and sound under their care and hearts.