Calm
Some time ago there'd been a silence that was brought on by comfort and contentment. Everyone within the walls valuing the calmness that comes with the quiet.
There had been silences that were deafening. It hurt your ears and made you tense. It made you feel like you were sinking into the floorboards. You couldn't understand how no one could hear you screaming on the inside.
Then for a long time, it was quiet simply because there was nothing she wanted to say. It was the kind of silence where you get lost in your head.
Everything around us was moving, but it felt like we were standing still. Stuck in the wake of his death, unwilling to leave.
It felt safe in an odd kind of way.
We'd been lured in by a false sense of security from the predictability it had brought.
Not knowing it was only an illusion.
The silence that fell over the house this last week had been different to any other that we'd lived with.
We didn't get lost in it.
Time didn't pass without us felling it slip by.
Not a single minute of it went unnoticed.
She was counting down.
She needed to go and see Doctor Harbour tomorrow, he wanted to start planning everything with her. He wanted to properly discuss treatments and options.
And he wanted to remove the dressing, once and for all.
The fabric was no longer soaked in blood or covering sutures. Now it was only providing her with something to hide beneath.
But I had to wonder if it was the right thing to do, especially when it was clearly making her sick with worry.
I'd told her time and time again that I could reschedule. That there was no hurry. But each time she had refused.
Stubborn as always.
Ten weeks since he attacked her. Digging his jagged claws into her beautiful soft skin, without any thought of what it would take to bind it back together.
Jacob would never know about that look in her eyes, whenever the wounds were exposed. A self loathing and fear that she now carried with her.
That those few reasons she'd found to leave the house had been stripped away. Horrified that someone might see her.
He hadn't needed to change her bandages.
He hadn't given her pills, watched her wake crying, seen her in pain day after day.
He'd never know what she endured to get to this point.
Only to be horrified its arrival.
She sat silently on the lounge, in oversized shirt and sweatpants, knees drawn up toward her. Leaning into the armrest with her elbow.
If someone where to see her now, they'd think she was relaxing. But they couldn't hear her breathing and heart accelerating with each passing second.
Her eyes never left the screen of the television, but she paid no attention to the story unfolding in-front of her.
"Please, just let me reschedule." I begged once more.
"I'm fine." She said, her voice flat and lifeless. Reciting the words, that I myself had used to describe her, knowing very well they were a lie. Seeing someone else play my part, showed me just how tormenting it could be.
"You're not." I pointed out quietly, directing my eyes back to the screen.
She shrugged stiffly and quickly.
"I have to do it, right? I just want to get it over with." She said, her voice starting off sharply before breaking off to a quiet whisper.
I frowned at her choice of words, as I considered them.
Looking back to her, a crease formed in my brow.
"Have to?" I echoed.
I saw it there. The realisation that she'd misspoken. Revealed to much.
"Bella, do you want to do this?" I questioned, leaning forward on the lounge, tilting my head to better see her face.
It took her far to long to compose her features. Far to long to wipe away the dread that flooded her eyes.
She squinted as she caught the corner of her lower lip between her teeth.
She looked over at me. Scanning my face as though she was searching for something she needed. I just wished I knew what it was.
I'd give her anything.
She straightened her posture, shaking her head and looking away.
"Of course I do." She pressed, roughly.
She didn't. I could see it now.
I could tell that having me watching her with so much intent was making her nervous. But I couldn't stop.
She'd been the one to ask for ask for Doctor Harbour, she'd been the one to push for surgeries.
But why would she do all that if she didn't want it?
I moved closer to her, angling myself toward her. "Bella if you don't want to do this, you don't have to." I explained again, hoping she knew this wasn't something that was expected of her.
Her face fell and for a moment I thought she might cry.
"Bella what's going on?" I begged as I reached out and placed my hand on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly.
She shook her head firmly as I spoke, flinching at my desperate tone.
"I'm fine. I'm tired and it's late" she reasoned, standing up to go upstairs.
To end my questioning.
It was like a puzzle I couldn't possibly put together, because I didn't have all the pieces. But even without them, I knew I what this was.
I could feel the air getting warm and thickening. See clouds rolling in.
It was the calm before the storm.
The cracks in the glass reaching to the edges before it shattered.