The Silent One ✔

Chapter Twenty-One

"Angel" he interrupted.

"Let me finish" I ordered as sitting behind the window in my overalls.

"No! I won't let you push me away" Sam cried.

"Forget me" I lowered my voice.

He shook his head violently "Stop!"

"Forget me...I'm going to be gone a long time" I started "we most likely won't see each other ever again"

"I know what you're doing and it's not gonna work" he clenched his jaw.

"Don't visit me...don't call...forget my number...." I begged.

"Angel-" Sam interrupted again.

"Forget my name" I firmed my gaze "goodbye Sam"

Suddenly the setting changes completely. I was standing on the steps in my family's basement.

I walked down slowly, whilst struggling to find the light switch. I place my hand flatly on the cold brick wall beside me. Suddenly I feel the light switch that I flick.

The basement fills with light. My eyes search the room where I find a girl hanging from a beam with a rope around her neck. Dead.

"Ahhhhh!" I scream at the top of my lungs.

"Ahhhhh!" I open my eyes and shoot my head up immediately.

Suddenly, Aunt Laura and Jason sprint into my room, to my side. I'm sitting in my bed and my breathing is heavy.

"Are you okay?" Jason cries.

"What were you dreaming about?" Aunt Laura questions.

I wasn't dreaming. I was remembering.

"Nothing" I shake my head violently.

"It didn't sound like nothing" aunt Laura says.

"Are you still have nightmares?" Jason raises his brows.

I clench my jaw. I used to dream about that night every day. Usually, I would wake up screaming. Jason knows better than anyone about my nightmares.

"Good night," I say as laying back down on my side, to avoid eye contact.

They shut the light and begin to exit my bedroom.

"What was that about?" Aunt Laura questions from the hallway.

"She's still having nightmares about Trisha" Jason explains.

"Oh god," she sighs "the poor thing...It happened four years ago I thought-"

"I guess no one really recovers from something like that"

"No one else saw the body?"

"Just her and the police" he explains "dad and I didn't even see the body bag"

He wasn't lying. Only the police and I saw her body. I struggle to control my breathing as I press my pillow over my head to block out the sound of their voice.

***

"Is that it?" Aunt Laura questions.

I just glare at the knick-knacks on the Lawyers desk. All fancy. All expensive.

"No" the lawyer shakes his head "the last thing is his motorcycle...he has left it to Evangeline"

I snap my head up before glaring at the man. Did he just say what I thought he said?

"He left me his bike?" I raise both brows.

"Yes," the lawyer dressed in a fancy suit nod.

"You know I got my motorcycle license"

"So what are you telling me?"

"If you ever want to get rid of it I'll be more than happy to take it out off your hands"

"Thanks for the offer Evangeline but I'm not ready to give her up just yet"

"When will you be ready?"

"You can have her when I'm dead how about that"

"Deal"

I look at both Jason and Aunt Laura who sat beside me. I smile. So the man kept his word.

"If you don't want to talk about what happened last night" Jason starts as we walk to the car ten minutes later "you don't have to"

I roll my eyes. But he is obviously very eager to talk about it.

"Good," I say.

"But if you want to talk to someone I'm here" he informs as we walk through the parking lot, with aunt Laura walking in front of us.

"Thanks for the offer little brother" I start "but if I wanted to terrorize someone with my PTSD bullshit than I would have done it by now"

"There are people that can help you" he lowers his voice.

There are many reasons why I refuse to get treatment or tell anybody about my 'disorder'. First and foremost, the word 'disorder' makes me physically sick.

As soon as the word 'disorder' leaves my lips, the recipient of my confession hears 'proceed with caution'. That's something that will never change.

Maybe I don't want people to think I'm weak, or perhaps I just want to be treated like I'm 'normal', whatever 'normal' looks like.

I guess I've just always hated being different. I have something eating away inside of me, that nobody seems to understand. I have no idea how to make people understand my PTSD. I have no control over how they react or what they do with the information. That's why I choose not to say anything at all.

"Like Aunt Laura said" I start "its been four years"

He looks embarrassed, almost ashamed "We thought you were asleep"

"That's the thing about insomnia" I glare at him viciously "you don't sleep"

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Hi all,

I would just like to take a minute to explain what insomnia is for those who are unaware.

Insomnia is a sleep disorder that is characterized by difficulty falling and or staying asleep. Causes are generally related to poor sleeping habits, depression, anxiety, lack of exercise, chronic illness or certain medication that one may be taking.

In this story, the main characters insomnia is caused by her mental illness (which is explored further in this book).

Please VOTE and FOLLOW

Thank you

Enjoy!