"I THINK I was six or seven when I stopped talking," she speaks, voice clear and crisp and melancholy. "It was after..." She pauses, biting her lip.

"This is so weird for me to talk about. But I need to talk about it. I'll feel better." She exhales deeply.

"When I was seven I think, there were these people who came to our house. Before that day, everything was normal. We were a normal family--a normal mutt family anyway--Jagger, me, Mom and Dad. I talked a lot then. I loved to tell stories. Dad always joked about putting duck tape on my mouth because I asked questions about everything," she says her last sentence bitterly.

"I used to think about my dad every day, trying to memorize his face and personality and all those little things about him; the way he'd try really hard not to swear in front of Jagger and I, how his forehead creased when he was angry, or that little glimmer of playfulness in his eyes when he was teasing us.

"But I realize now that every father has those characteristics; I can't remember anything special about my dad. All I can remember about his appearance was his long black hair. That's all I know. I can't even picture his face. After he was gone, I tried so hard to keep him with me, but I guess, after not seeing him for so long, he's faded from my mind.

"Sometimes I try to talk about it with Jagger, but he doesn't want to. He says he just wants to forget. And of course, I can't talk about anything with Mom." She looks to me, unaware of my knowledge of her mother's situation. "Sorry, I didn't explain. Mom lives in the attic. That was that smoke you saw the one time. She does god-knows-what kinds of drugs up there. I think she wants to forget too." I nod as if I was not aware.

She takes hold of one of my pillows, placing it behind her back and leaning against the wall. She looks to the ceiling.

"I guess I should explain what happened to Dad now. The reason why I stopped speaking to mostly everyone. I've been trying to avoid talking about it for so long and it's just so..." She rubs her eyes.

"Anyway," Sommer continues, "we were at home one day. It was just a normal Sunday. Mom and Dad had the day off. They were outside though. I don't remember why but I know they'd always go on walks together. Jagger was upstairs or something and I was alone in the living room, reading. There was a knock at the door." Her bottom lip quivers slightly. "I answered without thinking about it. Two people stood at the door, a man and a woman, both purebreds I later realized, but at the time I just thought they were dressed weird. I heard my parents use the term 'purebreds' before but I didn't know what it meant.

"I remember this conversation almost perfectly. (This is how I greeted everyone when I was little. Don't ask.) 'Hi! I'm Sommer! Like the season with sun and flowers and when everything is green and it's hot outside. But spelled different. I can't write yet but that's what my brother tolds me. Who are you?'" I cannot help but smile at the innocence of young Sommer.

"The man and woman didn't even smile at me. They hardly looked at me really. They asked where my parents were and I said they were away. They forced themselves into the house anyway and started tearing through drawers and cupboards. I kept asking them what they were doing but they ignored me. Jagger came downstairs and they did the same to him. He told me to stay there and that he'd go get Mom and Dad.

"Finally, when the people couldn't find whatever they were looking for, they turned to me. The lady said, 'Where do your parents hide their narcotics?' Of course, I had no idea what the hell they were talking about. My parents never did any drugs when we were little. I don't even remember them drinking. Not to mention the word 'narcotics' is definitely not in the vocabulary of a seven-year-old.

"'Little girl,' the lady said while smiling. She used simpler words this time. 'I know your parents have a secret room they never let you go into. You should show us. We can let you in there.'"I told them I didn't want to get in trouble. But then I said, 'Once I heared Mom and Dad said that if th'authorities found their papers they be in big trouble.' And then I continued to babble on about how my parents also said if I wasn't good my toys would get taken away and a bunch of other random shit. They seemed really interested though, so I kept talking. They asked me if I knew where they kept these 'papers'. 'In the secret room!' I said to them. Eventually I gave in and told them it was in the attic. Little did I know, my innocent storytelling would tear my life apart."

Her eyes swell with tears again. I watch her silently.

"Eventually my parents came home to find two purebreds going through their top-secret files and their little girl chatting away as they did it. I know I was just little but I can't help but feel stupid about it. For some reason I trusted those strangers and I thought everything would be fine. But, when I saw the look on my parents' face when they came up the attic stairs, I knew I'd done something very wrong.

"To this day, I still don't know what Dad was doing. My guess is, knowing the situation was dangerous, he came to grab me and take me and Jagger away. Whatever it was, one of those purebreds saw it as a threat and before I knew what was going on..." she speaks rapidly, her cheeks red as fire, but yet no tears have escaped her eyes.

"Before I knew what was going on..." she repeats slowly, her gaze on the wall. "Dad was dead on the floor. Blood was everywhere. Mom screamed. The gun dropped to the floor. I don't remember which purebred shot it. I don't remember what happened after that. All I remember is Mom's screams. I still hear them sometimes. She doesn't scream like that anymore, you know? She doesn't feel that kind of emotion anymore. Now all we hear from her is the occasional dull yell or dull laugh, with no real feeling.

"What hurt me the most wasn't seeing my dad murdered, however weird that sounds. What hurt me the most were the words my mom was screaming. She didn't touch me, but it felt like she did. It felt like she was stabbing me. She kept screaming, 'You killed him! You killed him!' over and over and over and over. It wasn't until later that I connected the dots. She wasn't talking to those purebreds; she was talking to me.

"I killed my dad. I basically killed my mom too, because after that she was never the same. She started drinking and doing drugs and living in the attic to the point where she only comes downstairs in the middle of the night to get food. Jagger says sometimes he talks to her, but he tells me never to come out of my room if I hear she's downstairs, even if she's yelling. I put all this responsibility on my brother because I took away both our parents, forcing him to become the parent. Jagger makes sure we always have food and money and whatever else. I ruined everything for him. I ruined everything for my whole family. All because I talked."I still don't know what was in those top-secret files. Jagger says he doesn't know either. And, if they were secret enough to cost my Dad his life, I don't think I want to know. We both agree on that.

"After that day, I stopped speaking to most people. I always talked to Jagger, but even my mom I rarely spoke to. Not that she really spoke to me either after she started binge drinking and doing drugs. People in the neighborhood kept asking me how I was doing or if everything was okay and I just stopped answering them, because I wasn't okay and I was tired of saying the same things over and over. People have forgotten that I ever talked now. They just assume I'm mute and don't expect me to speak to them. I've grown used to that. Now I'm Sommer, the sweet innocent girl who doesn't hurt anyone because she doesn't speak.

"I always tell myself that I like things this way, but it does feel nice to talk to you like this, to have a voice. But everyone's used to me not speaking now, so I just couldn't start talking again. I only talk to people I really trust, like Jagger, later Titus, because he's pretty much my big brother too, and now you."

Sommer pulls a bed sheet off of the mattress and wraps it around her body.

"Thank you, Metro," she speaks softly. "I think I need another hug."