i'm tired. canada pov.
Shhh.
Can you hear that?
That's the sound of my mother, pulling out of the driveway. She's going to a bar again tonight, to find someone to spend a night with in a drunken haze. That's the sound of every morning, when Alfred and I will stay out of the way while my parents yell. That's the sound of the future, of a car that will crumple under the force of a truck, a decision to disregard the one red light in the night ending in red-stained skin.
Shhh.
Can you hear that?
That's the sound of my father, going for a walk down the road. He's going over to a neighbor's house across the way, to have a little fun with dry bits of grass. That's the sound of rasping breaths, such a constant in our life that there is no more true silence. That's the sound of the future, wandering home in the pale dawn, pressed against the wall with an arm around its neck and a gun that will make no sound to wake the neighborhood.
Shhh.
Can you hear that?
That's the sound of my brother, curled up under his covers in the next room. He's having another nightmare, influenced by the horrors of our lives. That's the sound of a knife lying in wait on the counter, a thought of "would I be missed". That's the sound of the future, of metal cutting through flesh, a sound of relief, of escape.
Shhh.
Can you hear that?
I can.