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Show 280 My father wouldn't look at me when we got home. He wasn't angry at me. He just wasn't there. "I'm sorry" came to my lips, but my mouth wouldn't open. There was nothing I could say that would take that look off his face. My face began to mirror his. My mouth went slack, my eyes became narrow. The door closed, and I was alone. My feet recoiled when they touched the cold concrete floor as I took off my shoes. There was a silence in the house. This was a different silence. It was deep and crushed into my ears. It didn't matter if I made a noise this time; there was no one home to be hurt by it. I remained silent. |
