silent

11

• AMALIA •

There's blood all over the carpet. My eyes widen as I assess it all—did I fall asleep?

The cuts on my arms are starting to thicken and the blood racing down my skin is beginning to dry. I exhale softly, trying to think of how to get blood out of a carpet. But how would I know that? I'm not a serial killer!

I wipe the blood off myself first with a sponge from the bathroom, then grab a small towel and drench it in soap and water, scrubbing furiously at the carpet.

It's almost all out when there's a knock at the door.

I control my heavy breathing, hoping that whoever it is will think I'm still asleep and will go away.

"Amalia?" It's my dad.

He turns the door handle, and for a second I worry he's going to walk in. But it doesn't open. I exhale a relieved sigh—I locked it last night.

"Sweetheart, are you awake?"

I continue to scrub at the floor, keeping my breaths quiet as I get all of the blood out. After a few seconds, he leaves, and when I pull the towel away the carpet is clear.

I lean back and sigh.

I make sure my arms are clean before pulling on a hoodie and unlocking my door, checking there's nobody in the hall before grabbing my towel and walking out. I quickly walk to the laundry room, having left my supplies in it yesterday, hidden behind some things in the cupboard so nobody uses them, and set it up, throwing the towel into the washing machine.

I have nothing better to do, so I sit down across from the washing machine and watch as it spins in circles, throwing the towel from side to side.

• ELIJAH •

I jump in surprise when I look down to see Amalia curled up on the floor, her eyes shut. I've been doing washing in here for the past ten minutes, has she been here all this time?

     I crouch down next to her and set a gentle hand on her shoulder, shaking her lightly. She groggily opens her eyes and looks up at me. She doesn't look well.

     "Hi, angel. What're you doing in here on the floor?"

     She blinks the sleep from her eyes. My heart softens.

     "Here, let's get you back to your room. Is it okay if I carry you?"

     She thinks about it for a second before nodding. I smile softly at her before standing, leaning down to lift her up by her arms and up into my embrace.

     She leans her head on my shoulder as she brings a hand up to play with my hair. I rub my hand up and down her back as her movements slow until her hand drops altogether.

     I think she's asleep.

     I take her back to her room, set her down under her covers and kiss her forehead before leaving.

•

Grandma is here.

     Fuck.

     There are already a few plastic boxes of pastries on the kitchen counters, like there is every time she visits—which is at least once every two weeks—and she's been asking dad to see her granddaughter for a few minutes now. He's told her she'll come down when she's ready, and that he doesn't want to bombard her with a bunch of people. She told him she doesn't care and that she wants to see her grand-baby.