My Little Moon - 𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝖼𝗈𝗌

33. mute

Almost a month and a half had passed since then.

Catrina never went back to her old ways and habits of. . .well, talking. She just stares into oblivion, remaining such a mystery to the people around her. She does talk, but. . .not in a way that she used to before. Her answers were short and rigid, sometimes all you get is a nod or a shake of her head, really.

The family noticed, of course. Noticing a distinct pattern in the child's behavior. Whatever happened that night, scarred the young girl so bad she never wanted to be in the same room as any of the boys.

An instant occurred when she was left all alone with Matthew and Michael. They were in the living room, lounging as always. All was well until Catrina burst into a fit of sobs that alarmed both men.

As they began to inch closer to her, asking what happened. . .they were instead, taken aback when Catrina closed her eyes and pushed them farther away with both her palms.

Ever since then, the nephews were hesitant to approach her. She became different the moment she step foot in the entrance of the Marcoses home that very night. Different by means of disturbed. If they were to put it in a metaphor. . .she was a flower who was beginning to lose her petals. Though, they still continued to make her feel like she was part of the whole ordeal, a family by all means.

This morning the young girl woke up, weary eyes looking up the ceiling. A whole other reality did she face; for the first time, she wished she didn't awaken. She wished for the mattress to cover her in its cotton flesh and devour her entire mortality. She wished for her legs to not work so they won't take her to the place where it happened. She wished for her eyes to be blind so they may not let her see the horror she endured. She wished.

But wishes are mere dandelions that disperse and go with the wind. . .never really landing on a goal. 

With all her might, she carried and dressed herself up in uniform. After all, school is what matters now. 

Exiting her bedroom, she was met with a quiet household. Uncomfortable that it had been like that knowing the family could be rowdy. Perhaps they weren't awake. Catrina rushed downstairs and never bothered to take her breakfast, and no one was present to scold her. She was about to go out, ready and all, when someone stopped her.

Someone who had been a pain to handle alone this past month. Amaris stood an equal distance away from Catrina; arms crossed and shoulders slightly raised. She was the voice of torment that slipped out of hell.

"I hope you remember what we've talked about."

Turning around, Catrina stared with languid eyes. "Yes. Na-aalala ko pa." Her reply came back in whispers. But Amaris somehow still heard it and grimaced.

"Good." No sign of cheer appeared from her glance. "Stay away from my mom. . .don't make me say it twice, or else. . ." She barbed, turning around and not even waiting for Catrina to answer.

A cold sigh left Catrina's mouth before heading outside. She had other things to worry about.

The talk she had with Amaris wasn't at all, cherries and rainbows. It was more like knives and nightmares. The thing was. . .Amaris wanted her to leave. Wanted her gone. The sole reason being that she was no more needed. In a way, even Catrina agreed that she shouldn't be here.

Catrina no longer engaged with Irene. She only does when she's asked by the woman, or when Irene immerses a conversation with her. But other than that, their bond was merely held by a single string; it was bound to break anyway. Like always, her comprehension of things can be slow, and so understanding whatever happened was hard. All she could do was question everything.