A/N: Hello again (: I wrote this a long time ago [it must've been at least 2 years] and today while I was looking through old files I found it (: I don't think it's any good, but I didn't have the heart to delete it, so here you go.
Quiet.
So quiet.
Allison hated quiet. It meant they've forgotten about her again. Silence was the only thing that ever consumed her house. She often dreamed of the normal sounds in a normal home; her mom humming to herself while she prepared dinner, the sounds of plates and silverware colliding while the table was set. She would imagine hearing her dad whistle a bouncy, contagious tune as he read through the newspaper or clicked through the television channels. But instead, Allison was left with the steady drip-drip-drip of the loose water faucet on the second floor bathroom, and the chirps of the annoying birds that made home outside her window.
Sometimes, she would turn on all the TVs and radios in the house to make it seem busy, but it was no use. There were no real conversations going on, no real interaction. Prerecorded melodramatic arguments played on the screen over and over again, so much so that Allison could recite them all herself.
That's when she stared talking to herself.
She longed for a real conversation, and who better to give her one than herself? She wouldn't leave herself hanging, that was for sure. She would never forget to answer herself. She had some of the best conversations alone in her room, not at school with her 'friends;' everyone thought she was weird now that she had started whispering to herself in between periods.
It's not like it affected her much anyway; they already thought she was a freak with her greasy hair and black clothes. With both her parents gone, no one was around to do the laundry, and Allison was often stuck rewearing outfits she had worn the week before. She didn't mind, but it seemed to bother the students around her. She was avoided and spent most of her time alone.
But she was used to that already.
When her parents did manage to come home, it was like she was invisible. They ate, they slept, and then before she even knew it they were out the door again. They wouldn't acknowledge her presence, and it hurt. It fucking hurt.
She contemplated running away many times; her parents would come home one day and look for her, they would worry and wonder where she was. They would need her. They would want her to come home, want her to be safe.
But the thought of being by herself terrified her. At least at home she was familiar and comfortable, whereas if she ran away, everything would be new. She would be on her own and have to fend for herself; at home her mother keeps a steady supply of microwaveable food, that would be gone. Goodbye to a nice long shower after school, and to the clean bathroom connected to her room. Goodbye to her bed and her collection of stuffed animals she started when she was given a stuffed elephant at the zoo when she was 3. She couldn't just leave all that behind; she wouldn't know what to do with herself.
So she stayed set on making people believe she was running away. Keep people thinking that she could bolt at any time. She carried a large purse with spare clothes and junk food, just in case if she ever needed it. She never would, that much she knew, but everyone else didn't need to know that small detail.
Keep the people guessing, keep them on their toes, and they won't forget you. No one would ever forget her now.
That's all she ever wanted.
A/N: Meh. Thoughts?