lucrezia eckhart {district 6} fin

I sit there silently on my bed, legs criss crossed, notebook and pencil in hand. Silence. Dead silence. I haven't been this quiet in years. The silence frightens me, it's a vast pool of emptiness, unknowing. Not even the crickets outside are chirping, the breeze remains still. I would speak, but I don't know what to say. What do you say to fill emptiness. So I sit there, silent, staring at myself in the mirror. Listening to the sound of my own breath so I don't break into a panic attack. That happens to me sometimes, when it's too quiet for too long. So I focus on little sounds to distract me, and stare around the room instead. The light from the moon cascades into my room. It's quite beautiful really, it turns the whole room into shades of black and white. I bite the end of my pencil, placing new teeth marks where there's room and deepening the old ones. I close my eyes for a second and then begin to draw. My pencil flies across the blank page, the lead making little scratching noises. I finally broke the silence in the best way I know how.


I keep drawing in excruciating detail. How each ray hits the floor board in a specific way, how the objects in my room are now casting slightly distorted shadows. I work fast, only glancing up occasionally. Before I know it the only thing I have left to draw is my mirror... and myself. I never draw myself, I never see a need, but the way moon changed me made me feel inclined to. My pale skin glistened and my light blonde hair looked practically white. My blue eyes sparkled, but unfortunately my jaw line was still to square to be considered feminine and my nose was still too small for the rest of my face. What really intrigued me was the way the shadows laid across my face, I looked like a different creature. As if my inner demons decided to come out and play. I never show them, I'm normally a happy person, but at night they consume me. I don't tell people about them, that would be unfair, they have too many of their own. So instead I draw, anything and everything that comes to mind. I love to draw anything that inspires me, but mostly my family. Never in color though. No, the world is too dark a place for any color.

* * *

"I bet you can't catch me Mommy!" I squeal as she comes close to grabbing my arm, but I'm just out of her reach. I run away a little farther to give her a more difficult. "Oh you're just too fast for me," she said with an airy laugh. My little steps carry me slowly through the field, she walks though, knowing how much fun I'm having. "Ohhh!" I suddenly shout as I run over to a patch of wild flowers. I bend over to pick one up when someone suddenly grabs me from behind. "Gotcha," my mom whispers in my ear as she spins me around to face her. "Look how pretty," I say in awe as I show her the flower I picked out, not even slightly upset over the fact that I had just lost our game. "You always are so easily distracted Lucy," she grabbed the flower and stuck it behind my ear. "There, even more beautiful than usual," I roll my eyes at her. "Can we play again," I reach out and place my hand on her cheek. "Pleaseeee?" She grabs my hand and places it into hers, giving it a squeeze. "Not now, you have singing lessons we need to get to," a smile spreads across her lips as she watches fold my arms in mock frustration, she knows how much I love to sing. But it's immediately wiped away. My mother stands up straight again and stiffens, all playfulness gone from her eyes. I'm about to ask her what's going on, but the look she gives me tells me to remain quiet. I don't understand what could shift her mood so quickly. Not until I turn around, then I know exactly why.

Five Peacekeepers stand there in a line. Their stares are ominous, and I'm not sure how to feel. My mom gives my hand one final squeeze before walking over to them, I can tell she wants me to stay where I am. I stand there, silently watching. I just start to think that everything is going to be okay until I watch my mom fall to her knees and bury her face into her hands. My mind is telling me to run to her, but my feet are suddenly glued to the ground. No matter how hard I try they won't budge. So I stand there and watch, and so do the Peacekeepers. They continue to stare at her for a few minutes, not offering to help, and finally turn away in a stiff uniform line and make their way back down the street. She continues to sit there, maybe she forgot about me. What am I supposed to do? My mind races trying to come up with a solution, but she finally gets up. She walks toward me and scoops me up into her arms before I can protest. I bite my lip for a few seconds, contemplating if I should speak or not. "Mommy, what's wrong?" I finally whisper. She remains silent for a few more seconds. "Your father..." her words get caught in her throat. She pauses a moment before continuing. "Your father died in an accident at work," her words come out in a rush, as if she had to force them out, but I understand. I don't say anything, but silent tears stream down my face. I bury my face in my mother's shoulder and let her carry me the rest of the way home.

* * *

 We were okay, sorta. Okay as you can be when something tragic happens unexpectedly. Mom left me alone for a while, not physically, she still fed me and everything, but mentally. She would barely talk to me, one word sentences here and there, but that was it. She would still sing though. Sing while she was cleaning, sing while she was cooking, she would still sing me to sleep. It was the only comfort I had, the only glimpse of her voice. If she wasn't singing, the silence may have consumed me. All of a sudden she became herself again, talking, playing games. It was like she returned from the dead. The doctors must have given her pills when they noticed she wasn't getting better, I didn't mind. I was just happy to have my only life line back. Months passed and things actually seemed to be getting better. Laughter filled our house again and the melodious sounds of the piano filled the halls. I found empty pill bottles scattered around the house, it didn't bother me though. As long as she was happy, so was I. She still had to sing me to sleep though, I couldn't welcome dreams when it was silent.

I sit in my bed, waiting patiently for my mother to come up stairs. I can tell it's close to my bed time by the way sleep drags at my eyes. I stifle a yawn and wait patiently. She always comes up once she's done practicing the piano. I bring myself into a sitting position and hold my breath so I can hear better. There's no piano, none. Not a sound moves through the house, I feel trapped, suffocated. I grab my blanket and my stuffed bunny and slowly descend the stairs, each one creaking behind me as I go. The sound offers some relief to calm my nerves, but not much. "Mom?" I practically whisper as I reach the first floor. I begin searching, first the living room, maybe she had simply fallen asleep at the piano. But no, I knew she wouldn't be there. I continue cautiously, afraid of what I might find. And what I found didn't make me afraid, it terrified me.

There was my mom, laying on the kitchen floor surrounded by empty pill bottles. "Mom!" I try yelling, but it comes out more like a harsh screeching noise. My feet don't seem to function as I fumble towards her and fall to my knees. "No....no...." I can't tell if I'm yelling or whispering, it's not like it would matter, no one can hear my cries. I begin shaking her, trying to get a reaction. "Mommy, please wake up," there's loose strands of hair in her face so I gently brush them aside. "Please..." Sobs began to wrack my body and I'm shaking uncontrollably, tears streaming down my face. How could she do this? How could anyone be so selfish to leave their seven year old alone barely a year after her father died? It didn't make sense. Maybe she was happier now, and as long as she was happy, so was. I lay myself down next to her, silent tears still rolling down my cheeks. I try to sing myself to sleep, but it's too hard for me to sing the same words she did. So I hum the melody instead. It's hard, but I finally drift off to sleep. I should have known something was wrong. I should have known when it was quiet. Because nothing good ever happens in the silence.

* * *

The morning sun peaking through the kitchen window finally wakes me. I sit up slowly, the deafening silence showing no mercy. Everything feels like a dream. No, not a dream, a nightmare. I feel frozen in time, no muscle in my body wants to move, as if they're in denial. I inhale slowly and look down, and I know that my nightmare was real. Her body lays there motionless, and I don't even have to touch her to know she's as cold as ice. I quickly avert my eyes as they well up with tears, avoiding the truth for as long as I can. The proof is sitting in front of me, but none of it seems real. It's too quiet again, so I sit there and hum to myself as I hold my mom's hand for the very last time.

An hours passes, maybe two, maybe three, time doesn't seem real anymore. I know though that it's time to leave, time to tell someone, time do something. My body aches as I get up, but I force myself anyway. Blanket and bunny still in hand, I walk out of my home for the last time, and I don't glance back. I bite the end of my blanket nervously as I wander through the streets, searching for someone I can tell. Tell what exactly? I don't know, but something, I must tell someone something. I approach many people, but whenever I try to tell someone what has happened, my words seem to fail me. Ten, fifteen, twenty, people. No matter how many times I try to tell my story, no sound will come out. I've all but given up hope. This is where I will die, in the streets, alone, with no one left who loves me. Silent tears stream down my face. I'm so exhausted that I find a comfy spot on the sidewalk and lay down. In no time I drift off to sleep to the bustling sounds of the street and the sound of my own humming.

I'm awoken what feels like minutes later by gentle tapping on my shoulder. "Sweetheart..." a gentle voice whispers near my ear. Did I miss my singing lessons? "Honey please wake up," I slowly open my eyes expecting to see my mother there, telling me it's time to practice. But of course it's not, that would be impossible. Instead, a lady with a kind face stares down at me, her concern evident. "Do you need help? Are you alone?" she asks me. I don't answer, instead, I stare behind her. It appears I haven't slept minutes, but almost all day. The sun was just setting behind her. It was quite beautiful actually. The way the colors blend and mold, it makes the world seem like it's a half decent place, but I know it's not. The ladies eyebrows crinkle as I sit there silently, I could tell she was becoming more worried by the minute. "Do you need help?" she repeats, but this time a little more slowly. I remain silent. Do I need help? I have no one, no where to go, nothing. But do I want help? I sit there for a few more moments before silently nodding my head. A small smile spreads across her face as she offers her hand. I hesitate for a moment before taking it. And she leads me off into the start of my new life.

We finally arrive and I've never seen anything quite like it. It takes all my strength to keep my  mouth closed. "Welcome to your new home," she says with an amused smile. She must have seen my face. She gently leads me inside, and I can tell by the looks of it that a few others live here as well. We make our way into the kitchen and she sits me down at the table. She doesn't speak again, I think she can tell that I don't want to speak, can't speak. Instead she just makes me a bowl of soup and sets it in front of me. She gives me a small smile before leaving the room. I stare silently at the soup. I don't think I'm hungry, but she's been so kind. I don't want to offend her, so I take the spoon and force myself to eat some. It's so warm and delicious, it tastes almost like summer. It fills my body with the warmth that I was lacking as the hot liquid slides down my throat. I didn't realize how hungry I actually was until the food touched my lips. I take a few more spoonfuls of the liquid, each one quicker and more aggressive then the next. I'm just beginning to wonder where the lady went when I hear her in the next room, but this time she has a friend with her.

"She hasn't spoken a word since I found her," she says worriedly. Then the new voice chimes in. "Do you think she's mute?" she asks, clearly wondering what could be wrong with me. "No, no. Just...traumatized," she begins to pace the room, I can tell by the hurried footsteps making the floor boards creak. "Let me try," says the other women confidently, and before I know it they're both in the kitchen peering over me. The second women is just as beautiful as the first and looks even nicer. "Hi," she says gently as she crouches down to get closer to my level. "Can you tell me what your name is please?" I contemplate on answering. Is it worth it? Is it worth it to get to know them or are they just going to leave me too? Everything about the place is so warm and inviting, I can't help myself. "Luc.." I try to talk but it sounds like I'm choking. That must be what happens when you go so long without speaking. The look at me with gentle eyes, encouraging me to try again. "Lucrezia. But... but can you call me Lucy?" It was barely more than a whisper, but I could tell they could hear me loud and clear since two huge smiles broke across their faces. "Alright Lucy. Would you mind telling us what happened?" My spoon clatters to the table and my body immediately shuts down. No, I can't handle that. Words can't describe what had happened. So I sit there in silence as they stand there, staring at me not speaking. When she finally realized I wasn't going to talk, the second women spoke up. "Alright, how about telling us what your favorite color is instead?" A small smile finds it's way on my face. That was such an easy one. "Pink. You wanna know why?" Their laughter fills the room. "Of course we do," and I tell them exactly why and exactly what shade.

And I don't think I've shut up since. It can be the littlest thing and I'll go on about it for hours. Unless it's about what I've been through, but no one dares to ask me that. I can tell the other girls get annoyed with me sometimes because most of them are quiet. But I can't be. No, the silence is too much for me.

* * *

So I sit there and look at my drawing. The realness is uncanny, the dark colors, the shapes of the shadows. It almost looks like a photograph. I never used to be good at drawing you know. Singing was my passion, but I can't do it anymore. Whenever I try my body locks up, and it feels as if my whole world is caving in. So I started to draw, to let all my darkness and fears out. I finally put my notebook away and exhale, the weight on my shoulder makes it feel as if I've been holding my breath for hours. I'm the last one awake, like always, and everything is silent in the house. And I remember, nothing good ever happens when it's quiet.

So I get up off my my bed and out of my room, the loose floorboards squeaking with each step I take. I make my way to the end of the hall to check everyone's rooms, to make sure they're there, to make sure they're okay, to make sure they're alive. Just like I've been doing every night since I've arrived. I open their door as quietly as I can and stare in, searching for the outline of their body,and waiting a minute so I can make sure their chest is moving up and down. As I account for each of my sisters relief spreads throughout my body. I finally make it to the last door, the one right next to mine. My fingers just touch the knob when I remember, and violent sobs begin to rack my body. I have to use the door knob to keep myself upright because my legs don't seem to support my weight anymore. I don't even bother opening the door, because I know when I do there will be no one there. No, she's gone. Jequirity is gone, and everything feels incomplete without her. When her name was called, I was speechless for the first time in ten years and nothing has felt real since. Hot tears roll down my face, blocking my vision and I feel as if my whole world is falling apart again, like it does each night when I remember she's no longer here. But this isn't what she would want, no, so I manage to pull myself together and find my way back to my room. I crawl into bed, still shaking and I begin to hum. I'm not sure how long I'm awake, but eventually I let my demons and the silence pull me into the darkness of sleep.


Codeword: Odair