silent

7

• AMALIA •

I tentatively leave my room and walk downstairs, a blanket wrapped in my arms. When I enter the living room, Grayson and Elijah look up at me from where they're sitting on the couch.

"Hi, angel." Elijah says, smiling softly. "Here, come sit down." He nods to the spot next to him, between him and Grayson. I walk over and sit down, covering myself with my fluffy blanket and curling up so I don't take over too much space. "Do you wanna pick what we watch?" He asks, offering me the remote. I take it from him reluctantly, then scroll through all the movies until I land on Mean Girls.

     "Yay." Grayson says sarcastically, "this is my favourite movie."

     I frown and go to turn it off, but Elijah gently takes the remote out of my hand and presses play before discarding it to the side.

     As the film begins to play, Elijah looks over at me several times, as though checking me for an injury. I don't know what he's looking for; maybe he's thinking about how he can get rid of me. Maybe he doesn't like me, and all of this has been an act—

     I shake my head, and with it the thought away. He's nice, and he defended me against Xander. No one has ever defended me before.

•

The movie is over. No one talked during it, but they both looked at me many times, unspoken questions in their eyes.

     I wrap my arms around myself as the credits begin to play, then pull my blanket off of me and stand. Grayson looks over at me, and Elijah furrows his eyebrows.

     "You're going up already? We can watch another movie if you'd like—" Elijah begins, pausing when I shake my head. "Okay. Do you want me to make you any food?"

     I shake my head, again.

     "Alright." He says, smiling.

I wave goodbye at them before walking out of the living room and up the stairs quickly.

     I wrap my arms around myself and rush into my room when I hear the sound of someone following me up the stairs. I'm about to lock my door when there's a rap of knuckles on the other side of it.

I wait a few seconds for them to go away. They don't. They knock again.

I open the door. My father smiles at me. "Hi, sweetheart. Did you have fun watching your movie?"

Not really. I nod anyway.

His smile widens. "Are you hungry?"

     I shake my head.

     He looks concerned suddenly. "Are you sure?"

     I nod again.

     "Okay." He says. "Is there anything you need?"

     I shake my head.

     He looks upset. Did I make him upset? I frown, I didn't want to make him sad.

     "Alright, baby." He says softly. "I'll come check on you in a little bit."

     I'm going to bed soon, so I probably won't be awake when he comes up.

     I wrap my arms around myself. He smiles once again before leaving, closing the door behind him. I hear him sigh heavily before the sound of his retreating footsteps reaches my ears.

     I walk over to my desk and sit down, pulling my flower notepad over to me and opening it.

     I've wanted to work with flowers when I'm older ever since I was seven. My mother made me sit outside in a bus stop while she went into a pub, and there was a florist by it. It was nighttime, so it was closed, but there was a woman carrying a bouquet of flowers to her car.

     It was so pretty.

     It made me happy, to look at it. To know that something as simple as flowers could bring me so much excitement. I became obsessed with them, saving up the scraps of money I found and going to buy stuff to grow my very own.

     I had to hide them from my mother, so I asked my neighbour if I could put them in her garden. She was more than happy to let me, and even bought seeds and things for me. She was nice.

     I draw setups for my future flower shop. I'm already saving up for it; I already have six hundred pounds. I earned it by doing jobs, like mowing my neighbours lawns. I've been saving it since I was nine.

     It's the only thing I've ever really wanted. And it's what I'm going to get, no matter what.

•

I brush my wet hair, using a spray to detangle it. I don't have a hair dryer, so I've left it in the towel for as long as possible, because I don't think it's good to sleep with wet hair.

     When it's all straight, I twist it into two braids on either side of my head and let my arms drop, finding them tired. I'm about to turn the light off and go to bed when there's another knock at the door. I told my dad I wanted to be left alone, so why isn't he leaving me alone?

     When I walk over to the door, though, it isn't my dad standing there, but rather Xander.

     I debate slamming the door shut in his face.

     He looks bored as he says. "You're coming to work with me tomorrow."

     I furrow my eyebrows.

     "There's gonna be no one in the house, and you can't be left by yourself. I own a restaurant, so you can sit in my office and read a book or something. I don't care, just be ready by nine or I'll carry you to the car in your pyjamas."

     He doesn't say anything else before turning around and walking back down the hall. I frown as I close the door—why do I have to go with him? Why not my dad or Elijah? Why not literally anybody else?

I shuffle back over to my bed, unicorn slippers padding on the floor. I sit down on the mattress and sigh quietly.

•

I'm woken up by someone gently rubbing their hand up and down my arm. I open my eyes to see Elijah sitting next to me on the bed, smiling softly.

"Good morning, angel."

I pull my hand out of the covers and wave at him. He looks amused.

"Xander asked me to tell you to get dressed, you guys have to leave soon."

I push myself up onto my elbows, shoving the covers off of me, and hasten to climb off the bed and walk over to my dresser, remembering Xander's words from yesterday. Just be ready by nine, or I'll carry you out to the car in your pyjamas.

I don't think he'd really do that, but then again I don't really know him. I don't think he'll give me the chance to get to know him, either; he doesn't like me.

The conversation that boomed across the house yesterday replaces the other, and suddenly I want to bury myself under all of my blankets and never show my face again.

     Right, because he'd be jealous of some little kid who can't talk.

And from the day before. It's not my fault she's too much of a fucking scaredy-cat weirdo who's too much of a little pussy to speak.

Elijah walks over to me and sets a light hand on my shoulder. "You okay?"

I nod and move away from him, pulling a pair of leggings and a jumper out of the drawer. I slam it shut with a little bit more force than necessary.

     I look at him, then at the door. He seems to get the hint.

     "Okay, I'll go." He says. "I'll see you later, yeah?"

     I nod. He smiles kindly at me before walking out and closing the door behind himself.

     I let one tear fall before wiping it away and getting changed.