tiny ficlet. i don't own anything, and no insult was intended.
Three Monkeys
Thea pretends she doesn't hear him at night. Pretends she isn't listening.
Oh, he's not screaming. Not crying, either. There are no sobs, no moans and no whimpers. He doesn't even snore anymore, even though she clearly remembers him doing that whenever he was sick or really tired, remembers that she used to tease him about it. It's as if he's trained himself out of it, as if-
She overheard Mom and Walter talking. About finding Ollie sleeping on the floor, soaked through with rain from the open window. She thinks they're probably lucky to have caught him sleeping at all, because she knows, his room is right next to hers and she can hear him, hear the door open/shut, hear the distinct silence of him not making a sound, pacing the house for hours. Like he just can't bear the thought of staying still, like something wild stuck in a cage.
Thea pretends she doesn't notice anything outside the ordinary. Pretends that she doesn't see the way his eyes get lost in the distance sometimes, staring at nothing. The small headshake to here and now. Pretends she doesn't see him tense, almost imperceptibly, when someone enters the room, talks to him, touches him; ignores the second-too-long he needs to sort out a proper response.
Doesn't look at his plate at dinner, still half full when he asks to be excused.
Thea pretends she talks to him. Pretends that they have real conversations, that they sit around for hours like they used to and she tells him how everything went to hell when he was gone and he tells her what happened to him (he thinks she's still a kid, that she needs to be protected, but she can't imagine anything worse than this not knowing and this distance between him and everything – everyone).
Pretends that she doesn't lash out in frustration because she doesn't know what else to do.
Pretends that he isn't lying to her. And that she isn't lying right back.