(Seraphina)

It is pouring buckets the next day. My parents rushed to the front door to see how badly the streets had been flooded. I didn't worry too much about the weather; the school board would not close the school after the first day. After getting ready for school, I walk downstairs and look out the front door. The streets aren't too bad; the water is flowing into the gutters.

"Damn it," I hear my mother curse. She hangs up on someone from her work and tells my father that work and school had not been canceled. He curses under his breath, and they get ready in five minutes. Emily texts me, asking me if I would like her to pick me up. I text back, saying "yes". I grab a protein bar and my backpack.

When she comes, I grab an umbrella and run to her car. My mother comes out, "Seraphina! Get back into the house!" I got into the front passenger seat of Emily's car and she drove away from the house.

"Your mother?" Emily asks me. I nod. "She's a little bitch," she mutters. I nod again. I'd never say that in front of my mother, though. I'd be dead meat. There would be no mercy.

"I don't really like being in the same house as my parents, to be honest. They don't really care about me," I say, not knowing why I'm telling her about my home life.

Emily held my hand gently before putting her hands back on the steering wheel. We drive to school slowly, Emily being careful of the rain. We hit traffic on the way because some of the students are scared of driving in this weather. Seriously? We live in Washington; what do you expect?

"Slow going," Emily mutters. Charlotte starts to sing in the backseat. I didn't notice her at all. She was so quiet. Surprising. Charlotte was like me. I was in sixth grade when I was still talkative.

~•~

"Mama, Mama!" I called out to her as I ran out of the school gates. She hugged me gently and I hugged her back.

"How was school?" Mom asks me.

"It was really good. We learned about ancient civilizations in social studies," I told her as we walked to her silver Nissan Altima. We drove home, me talking in full detail about the ancient civilizations from class.

"Sweetie, can't you be quiet for a bit?" Mom asks me, making me frown a little. But I do as she says. I stay quiet the rest of the drive home. At the house, Papa asks Mama if she had a good day at work. Completely ignoring me.

I go upstairs to my bedroom, which was painted a light pink. Looking at myself in the mirror, I noticed tears running down my face. I wipe them away hurriedly, not wanting to be seen as weak.

Mama comes up to ask me about my day and I tell her that my day was fine. I just said "fine". She left without asking for further detail. I avoided dinner that evening.

~•~

Emily taps my shoulder and I look at her. She wipes my tears away and I give her a weak smile. In social studies, the memories run through my head again.

~•~

"Baby girl," Papa tells me. "Your mother and I think that you talk a bit too much. If you could not talk as much, that'll be great."

I nod, looking up from homework. I started to break my habit of talking a mile a minute to hardly talking at all. The teachers noticed and asked me if everything was okay. I lied and said that everything was fine.

~•~

Trying to talk hurts my throat now. I had brought a bottle of water to school every day. I can't tell anyone how I'm feeling. It's far more natural to bottle my feelings up inside, where no one can see them. No one can find out.

~•~

When the bell rings, I look up at the clock. Only six more periods to go before everyone is dismissed. I walk to my mathematics class, feeling numb. That is the worst feeling imaginable. How close am I to being diagnosed with depression? I was already raped. Would anyone notice if I committed suicide?

If I started self-harming?

If I stopped eating?

I already have stopped talking a lot. I only talk when I need to.

Would anyone care?

Would anyone help me?

~•~

"James, she stopped talking altogether!" Mom yells at my father. My father yells at my mother.

"I know, Analeese!" Dad yells at Mom. I'm in eighth grade now. No more light shone in my light blue eyes. I never spoke, even at school. When teachers asked me to answer a question, I shook my head.

My physical education teacher had me change in the locker rooms so he could send me to the principal's office. I sat there for five minutes before he called me into the room.

"Ms. Cohen, you can't just make it through the school year without talking. You were like this last year. I do not want a repeat of this incident during your final year in middle school," he tells me. I keep a blank expression on my face. I've heard worse than this.

He sighs. "I'll have to call your parents while they're at work. If anyone can get through to you, it's them." He dials their work numbers and I roll my eyes.

At home, my parents yelled at me to open up my mouth. They're the ones that told me to not talk as much as I usually did. I did as they said. Were they not proud of me?

~•~

"I think, maybe, that you're being a bit hard on Charlotte, Emily," I tell her as we walk to her car. Charlotte is talking on the phone and Emily doesn't tell her to be quiet.

"How so?" Emily asks me.

"If she needs to talk, she needs to talk. It may be a way to help her deal with this hell we all call reality," I say, looking at the dashboard. She nods, staying quiet.

Who Charlotte is as a person is a mirror reflection of who I was.