She waits.
As she rereads the first line of chapter seven over, for a third time, still not comprehending.
Her head is elsewhere.
She looks at the ceiling, trying to clear her head.
She readjusts her blanket, so it covers her shoulders.
It is so quiet.
The silence is shattered by her own voice.
She breathes out and a slight noise comes from her throat, like a small scream, but more peaceful.
The sound makes her bones shiver, and her skin tightens.
She speaks, though she does not know what to say.
Her voice, cracks at first, but then is smooth and soft like an old record
As she drowns in the sound, the key ends in silence.
Silent as she’s always been.
Silent as she’s meant to be.
Silent as he’s kept her.
She doesn’t whisper another sound, as she looks down at her book
He’ll be home soon.
She waits.
As she rereads the first line of chapter seven over, for a third time, still not comprehending
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