BREAKING SILENCE PART ONE
My alarm clock is blaring. Squinting through the darkness into my phone's bright screen, I quickly tap on 'Snooze' and lay back down.
Wait a minute.
What was the date? I snatch the phone off the nightstand again.
October 31st. I had momentarily forgotten. Suddenly my breaths don't seem as light as before. Instead, it's a stuggle to draw breath as everything rushes through my head, narrowing my thoughts to his face. That night. I gasp.
Still, I make a feeble attempt at passing it all off as a minor agitation. It was just Halloween, right? Just the day my sixteen-year-old friends still got so worked up about. Throwing on ridiculous costumes, demanding candy from strangers, running around pointlessly scaring one another.
My friends already know that I hate it. They just don't know why. They just believe that I think it's immature, when really, it just serves as a reminder of what happened last year. I feel a spasm of pain in my chest.
Sighing, I swing my legs over the side of my bed and tip-toe down to the kitchen to get some water. After swigging a few mouthfuls, I sit down on a bar-stool and stare at the countertop, fighting the hot tears that threaten to fall. It was always hard to be reminded of him.
Maybe I should just stay home. I don't want to break down in front of all of my friends like a big blubbering baby.
But then, sighing again, I decide that I won't be that big of a coward. Missing my girlfriend's party because of something that happened a year ago? Because of an ex-boyfriend? No. I would go and put on my happy face because my friends were happy. I wouldn't be the Debbie-Downer here and ruin it for them, because I'd already complained enough in the past week.
They didn't know why.
They didn't know why I had become so distant. They didn't know why I suddenly hated Halloween. They didn't know anything. And I wasn't about to tell them.