It was a beautiful cloudless night. Nothing obstructed the rays from the bright moon high up in the black velvet sky. The breeze was strong as they fluttered the leaves in the trees and the curtains by open windows. It was a beautiful night, to some.
In a humble 3-room flat, tension overflowed the small windows. It even seeped through the cracks along the aging paint on the walls. The tension was thick and heavy, and the silence that accompanied it made it even more uncomfortable. Hugging her knees tightly to her chest, Andrea pressed her back against the dusty wall beside her closet. A small, curled up figure wedged in the deepest corner she could find in her room, she listened for any sounds emitting beyond her room door. Her shoulders still tense, she pried her hands from her ears, immersing herself into the silence that suddenly filled the air. After the yelling, screaming, shouting, door-slamming, glass-breaking and fist-pounding on flesh, the silence that followed felt like the recognizable peace of an aftermath after a natural disaster.
A minute of tense stillness later, Andrea dared a tiny foot forward, uncurling from her position. Still clutching on to her teddy bear like it was her lifeline, she carefully stepped out from the safety of the corner and looked around. Her room was still the same as it was. Taking a deep breath, she got on her feet and tiptoed silently to her door. Pulling it back gently, Andrea peeked out only enough for her right eye to view the living room directly outside. A soft gasp escaped her lips at the horrifying scene before her.
Cushions were scattered everywhere. The furniture had been shifted drastically as though it had been stirred by a tornado. The glass tabletop of the coffee table was shattered into pieces. The once-beautiful flowers were strewn and soiled in a puddle of water on the floor and shards of what used to be her mother’s favourite vase. Yes, Andrea knew that the quarelling and arguments were frequent, but her parents’ fights had never resulted in such a shocking mess. Taking a small step forward, she looked around and realized she was alone. She glanced at the front door and noticed the gate ajar and swinging gently with the breeze outside.
Mummy and Daddy left, Andrea thought as she looked towards the kitchen. The other man with Mummy probably left too.
Andrea returned into her room, switched on her night lamp and sat on her bed, placing her teddy bear in front of her. Mustering a smile, she reached out to pat her teddy bear’s head.
"It’s really quiet now," Andrea said quietly, grabbing her stuffed toy and embracing it tightly. "At least I’ll always have you."
The days after went on normally as though nothing had happened, but Andrea noticed the stark changes. Her parents were never in the same room together, and even if they did, they never interacted for even a second. Andrea, being an inquisitive and intelligent four-year-old, feels the burning desire to ask either of her parents why they were acting like that. Both of them never neglected her, but when brought into the same room, Andrea was deafened with the familiar silence again. When inquired by her, both her parents would just smile and excuse themselves. Despite her parents constant efforts to take care of Andrea’s well-being, Andrea had never felt lonelier in her four years of life.
The silence grew on her. The silence seeped into her skin and she grew accustomed to it. She was quieter than before, more reserved and less cheerful. Her friends in kindergarten would ask why she was upset. They would try to cheer her up but their attempts would be in vain. Andrea despised interacting with her peers. Soon, her teachers began noticing the sudden changes in her attitude. During classes where all the children will share happy stories of their family, Andrea will always be the last to share. Sometimes she refused to share or say anything at all. She would stay in class while her friends go out to play, silently crying and trying to swallow her soundless sobs.
It was a lot worse at home. The silence was thundering. Andrea would not play with her dolls and teddy bears because it was too quiet in the house. She was afraid to break the silence. Sitting cross-legged on her bed, her favourite teddy bear in her lap, she stared into an empty space on her wall, listening carefully to the soft shuffling of footsteps outside of her room. There was a sound of a chair scraping, her mother’s angry voice and then her father’s before she heard the thundering sound of a loud slap. Clasping her hands over her ears, she curled up into a ball as she tucked her knees under her chin, letting a small tear slip past her lashes and down her cheek. It was unbearable for Andrea to handle this on her own. She resorted to the first option that a four-year-old would think of.
That night, once the silence returned, Andrea drew a simple map with crayons and tried to remember the directions to her favourite aunt’s house. Once the map was done, she zipped up her small Dora The Explorer bag, full of her favourite toys and her water bottle, while holding on to her teddy bear’s hand. Well-prepared, she mustered up what courage she had left and headed out of her room. Her father left the door open again, a common sight whenever he went out for a late night drink. Strapping on her sandals, Andrea took one last look at her home - a home that she used to love with all her heart - and strutted down the corridor.
Andrea did not know how long she had been walking, but her legs were getting tired. She sat at an empty bus stop and stretched out her tiny tired feet, taking a sip of water from her water bottle. Referring to her self-drawn map, she looked around the place. Her hope of finding her aunt’s place was fast depleting. She knew she had to take one of the buses, but she didn’t know which one took her to her aunt’s house. She didn’t even have those cards her parents use to board the bus. She started sobbing quietly when she realized how bad her situation was, sniffling into her teddy bear, when she heard her name being called. It was a faint call, muffled by the noise of the cars passing by, but Andrea recognized the voices. She recognized her mother’s voice as well as her father’s.
It was like music to her ears, like a deaf person gaining the ability to hear.
Her searching eyes found them across the road, waving frantically at her. Her mother was crying with relief while her father was trying to get across road. The four-year-old jumped off the seat, a wide smile stretching across her tired face. She was so happy to see that both her parents had found her and they were together. It was hope to little Andrea’s broken heart, like butterflies swarming into her dead garden. She ran straight towards them with her arms stretched out. She was overflowing with happiness, she was not aware of that her father was shouting at her to stop. Despite their hardest efforts to stop her, her parents helplessly watched as Andrea’s little world was engulfed by bright headlights, a loud blaring honk, violently bursting their small world of silence.
Originally written by my 16-year-old self, three years ago.
This work is purely fiction, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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