silent

29

• AMALIA •

I slide down my door and put my head in my hands. What the hell was I thinking?

My breathing speeds up as I stand, rushing over to my bathroom. I turn the shower on and shed my clothes, stepping under. I turn it on the highest temperature, my body burning as it comes into contact with the water. It's okay, I think to myself, I deserve the pain. Maybe it'll prepare me for what's to come. Perhaps it'll soften the blow of whatever form of harm they decide to inflict upon me.

     I wash my body and my hair before stepping out, wrapping myself in a towel before twisting my hair into two plaits on either side of my head so it's curly tomorrow.

     Not that it matters. Maybe they'll batter me so bad that the bruises will take away from my hair.

     My eyes water as I wrap my arms around myself and climb into bed. I'm about to turn my lamp off when there's a knock at my door.

My whole body begins to shake as I bury myself under my duvet and blankets. Maybe if whoever it is doesn't see me, they won't hurt me.

The door opens. I wrap my arms around the back of my head and dig my face into the pillow. I hear heavy footsteps before the mattress dips.

"Amalia." My dads deep voice says. I'm suddenly back in the police station, waking up to see the intimidating man beside me. I feel him set a hand where my arm is, so I move away quickly. "Baby, what's wrong? Why are you hiding from me?"

I bite my lip down, strong enough to draw blood, so I don't sob. If I show him I'm scared of him, he'll use it to his advantage.

     "Lia." He says my name again, more desperation in his voice. I'm so confused—why is he being nice to me? Why hasn't her hurt me yet? I just want this day to end. I want to go back in a Time Machine and warn myself to shut up! I feel him begin to slowly pull the blankets layered over me away, and in a haste I grab them back, full out sobbing now. "Darling, please tell me what's wrong."

     I turn and try to crawl away, but before I know it my dad is lifting me by the waist back toward him, making the blankets fall off of me. My sobs get louder as I turn my head away from him, bracing for impact, bracing for something—

     He folds me up on his lap and wraps his arms around me, rubbing the sole of my sock-clad foot in a successful attempt at calming me down.

     "Shh." He whispers, interrupting the sound of my sobs that are the only escape from silence in the room.

     I make myself as small as possible, stiff in his arms as he embraces me. I hear a small knock in the door before Xander's nervous voice says: "what's going on?"

     "I don't know." My dad replies quietly. "Pass me that notebook and pen on Amalia's desk."

     A few seconds later, my father is peeling me off of him and turning me around so my back is against his chest. He rests his chin atop my head. "Tell us what happened, sweetheart. Why are you upset?"

     Xander sits on the bed next to my dad and I and sets the notebook and pen on my lap. I take it quickly and write: I'M SORRY FOR TALKING. PLEASE DON'T HURT ME.

     Xander reads it with a clenched jaw, and my fathers grip tightens on me as he skims the words, though not enough to harm me.

     I furrow my eyebrows when they don't get angry at me. Instead, my oldest brother looks up at me with a soft, sad expression, and in one quick motion leans over to me and wraps me up in a hug, pulling me halfway off my fathers lap. I frown and go to push away from him, but then decide against it. His hug is.. nice. Comforting. My tears come to a halt as I lean onto him.