Family meals had changed drastically within the household.
You couldn't immediately tell at first, especially if you were an outsider. It was just a rather reserved family having a quiet meal. Some would believe that was normal for the family, seeing as two of the four members aren't very prone speaking.
But if you were to sit at that table with them, you could sense it. The heavy silence was suffocating. The four chairs felt so unbelievably distant from one another, even though it was only a small round table that physically kept them apart.
What was supposed to be a typical family meal was more isolating than just eating alone. Hardly anyone spoke. There was hardly any warmth at that table. And each person seemed hopelessly lost in the tension.
The eldest child appeared to be her usual self, quiet as always. But even in her reserved nature she was always attentive, staring with those big crimson eyes. While she never spoke more than a few sentences, she would always be intently listening to what her family had to share. Now however, it was clear that the girl was lost in a completely different world. Her eyes dull as she stared at the plate of food in front of her. You could practically feel her drifting away with every passing moment.
The younger daughter was a much more drastic change. A month ago, she was as bouncy and energetic as her wild blonde curls. Wide eyed and having little concept of what an inside voice was, she was always ready to shout out whatever story she had for the day. Whether it be the new thing she learned in school or the tales she made up within her imagination, she wanted her family to be the first to know about it.
There were no exciting stories this time. Just a little girl who would constantly fidget, glancing at her older sister with worry. She desperately wanted to fill the void that filled the dinner table, but she couldn't find anything to say. And if she did, she wasn't sure how her sister would react. Would she look at her with disgust? Or would she even look up at all, too lost in her own mind to even hear what was being said?
The girls' parents watched over it all with quiet concern. They knew that change would happen, the doctors warned them it would happen. But that didn't help them come to terms with the fact that it seemed both of their daughters were like entirely different people.
Their mother tried to be patient, but she couldn't stand the silence. It was just too much for her.
"So," She announced, trying to sound cheerful, "I see that Dad managed to set up the swing set. What do you girls think? Is it fun?"
Mary gave a curt nod but Ib remained silent, still staring at her plate.
"Ib, what about you? Did you get to try out the swing?"
"I haven't yet." Ib replied in a low voice. She didn't look up. If she hadn't been slowly picking at her food, there would've been hardly any signs of life at all in her..
"Well I'm sure you'll have time after school tomorrow then maybe. I think it would be a fun way for you girls to unwind and have fun."
Their mom gave a wide smile, but faltered after there was no response from her daughters. She sighed and went back to her meal, glancing at both of them with a sense of melancholy.
Ib, who looks so much like herself but had her father's temperament. She was always the quiet and sensitive type, but was always so strong and tried her best. Even with her shy nature, even with her struggles with dyslexia, Ib would always push on. To see her like this, so distraught and confused, was utterly heartbreaking. The therapist said it could be PTSD, but from what? What could've happened that would traumatise her little girl?
And then there was Mary. Personality wise Mary resembled her mother, and to see her seem so solemn made everything worse. She was the light of the family, the one who could always bring a smile to your face, with her bubbly attitude and imaginative stories. But even she couldn't stay happy during a time like this. She was only seven after all, and out of everyone she was the one that was the least informed. But how do you explain trauma to a seven year old? Especially when it was still so complex and confusing to understand as an adult.
It was all too sudden, with more questions than anything else.
A hand suddenly intertwined with hers. She looked up to see Tom giving her a faint smile.
Tom, her husband, her source of calm, her counter that keeps her balanced. He didn't say anything but she knew. They would get through this, all of them. Even if right now it felt like she was dining with strangers.
The two glanced at their daughters, worried, stressed, but endlessly hoping to see them both smile again.
As dinner went on, Mary kept stealing glances across the table. Not just at her sister, but at the red notebook beside her.
Funny how much you can hate an inanimate object. Especially one that was meant to help make the situation better.
Ib received that notebook after her first visit with the doctor.
"A special doctor." Mary's parents explained. One that told them that Ib should write her thoughts down. Ever since then, Ib brought that journal with her wherever she went. It was with her at school, in the car, and at every meal. It never left her side.
Mary could only imagine what was written in there. What kind of secrets it might hold.
Ib never kept secrets from Mary, but that was before everything changed. Now it seems all Ib has is secrets and worries and all of them are shared with that journal and that journal alone.
The journal's contents were shared to two people, Ib and her doctor. Everyone else was to respect Ib's privacy for the time being. But it only made it so much more tempting for the little girl to try and grab a peak. And while she was taught it was wrong to snoop through people's stuff, Mary wanted nothing more than to see what that journal question now was how she would get it.