Help

two

__________________________
We pretend that we don't care,
but we care,
- unknown
__________________________

M A S S I M O

The house is quiet. That's how I like it. The soft hum of the air conditioning, the occasional creek from the massive storm outside, the wind smacking against the window. I like this quiet. I cherish this quiet.

I can focus better on my work when it's quiet. I don't have to worry about interruption or the annoying sound of my siblings. Pen to paper I can do my work solely thinking about work.

But for as quiet as it is, I can't seem to focus. Maybe it's the fact I haven't slept in hours, or that the caffeine I drank an hour ago has started to wear off. Or maybe because my baby sister, is four doors down silently sitting in her room.

The room she's had her whole life. That beautiful room that once had yellow walls with stickers of cartoon safari animals. The room that was changed when she was four during her Disney Princess faze. An ugly hot pink, that was once popular amoung small girls coated her walls.

As the years went on and the longer she was gone, the room became empty and useless. I would occasionally visit when I had those days when I needed to remember what is was like to be all together. We painted over the ugly hot pink with a boring white. Emilios reasoning being that when she came back she can design the room however she wants. At that point I gave up on ever getting her back so I let him do whatever he wanted to the room. Not that he wasn't going to do it anyways even without my permission.

The quiet is extra prominent because I know she doesn't speak. The way she hunches into herself trying to make herself as small as possible, the look of just wanting to be hidden. Unseen. Her eyes were dull, no excitement, no happiness, not even any sadness, just like mine.

I do not want her to be like me. It feels wrong. Bubbly Flo, the small brunette haired princess that would babble and talk about anything and everything, only stopping when she got thirsty or tired. I didn't expect her to be so closed off. I expected a nervous older version of the girl, however a silent version was not what came to mind when I opened the door. She changed so much in the past ten years. Then again, I have too. I shouldn't be shocked that Florence has changed when I have too.

She is no longer the Flo I knew, but then again, I am no longer the Massy she knew too.

Cars against the gravel driveway pull up to the front of the house. Three seconds later two of the five garage doors open letting me know that the boys are home. Probably Dominic and Lucien.

Lucien is finishing up his last few months of high school and Dominic probably got back from his hockey practice. Doors slam and arguing is all to be heard as they make there way deeper into the big house.

"Shoot me." I grumble out to myself as I push my desk chair out and leave my tidy office. How am I supposed to tell them that their sister is back and that she doesn't speak?

Stopping by Florences door I try to listen for any sign that she needs help or is upset. When I don't hear anything I let out a dreadful sigh, I continue on downstairs to the kitchen.

The house is the same as it was ten years ago. Dull paintings that once were a magnificent sight hang on the outdated tan colour walls. They hold a fine layer of dust making them look old and boring. The hardwood floors have scratches ingrained in each panel clashing against the outdated walls and the dusty paintings.