The house was silent. Just like always. Only the creaking
sound of the old floorboards accompanied her footsteps. As Liora entered the
kitchen, she slightly parted the curtains in front of the window. It was sunny
outside, but it always felt cloudy in this house.
Her aunt hadn't woken up yet, or if she had, she hadn't left
her room. It had been happening a lot lately. Quiet, closed off, and timid.
Just like how Liora felt.
She looked at the clock while placing a slice of stale bread
into the toaster. It was twenty past eight. There was no school today, but
Liora had still woken up early. It had become a habit. The only time she could
breathe in the silence of the house was in the early hours of the morning.
Leaning against the wall, she waited for the toast to cook,
and her eyes caught a small box on the counter. Her aunt's pills. Lined up
neatly in different colors. Each one seemed like a symbol of a different kind
of silence, a different kind of fear.
Liora took a deep breath. Today, she had to tell her about
the camp. Maybe it wasn't the right time—but she couldn't postpone it any
longer. A voice inside her said, "Be ready."
The burnt smell from the toaster pulled Liora out of her
thoughts. She quickly took the bread out; it was a little charred, but it
didn't matter. She found a plate, placed the bread on it, and then quietly sat
down at the table. Everything had to be quiet. In this house, noise was
synonymous with unease. The towering bookshelf, the dusty shelves, the picture
frame with a broken corner... Everything was from years ago. Her aunt seemed
the same. Like someone stuck outside of time.
She flinched at the slight creak of the floorboards. The
door to the room had opened. She took a deep breath. The footsteps began to
descend the stairs slowly and hesitantly.
Her aunt Velmira appeared in the doorway of the kitchen: She
wore a thin cardigan, her face pale like someone who hadn't fully woken up. Her
eyes briefly met Liora's. Then they shifted elsewhere, into emptiness... maybe
to the past.
"Is it morning?" she murmured.
"Yes," Liora replied quietly. "I made some
toast, I can make some for you too."
The woman shook her head. "I'm not hungry," then
sat at the corner of the table. She clasped her hands together. "Was it
crowded outside this morning?"
Liora was used to this question. It came in different forms
every morning, but the meaning was always the same: Was it dangerous, was there
a stranger?
"No, it was quiet. Only the birds were there."
Her aunt paused for a moment. Then, almost whispering, she
said, "Birds are sometimes messengers."
Liora's throat tightened. Every day began with a different
fear. But today... today she needed to change something.
She would talk about the camp today.
Velmira's eyes were still fixed outside the window. Liora
had gotten used to that gaze. Sometimes it held a silent scream, sometimes a
prayer.
At first, the silence had frightened her. Now she was used
to it—but being used to it didn't mean she had forgotten what it meant.
Suddenly, her eyes shifted to the small picture frame on top
of the fridge… the photo had faded, but they were still smiling. Her mother,
her father, and little Liora. Only three months after that picture was taken,
the car had gone over the barrier and tumbled into the ravine. Liora had been
sitting in the backseat. She survived. From that day on, no one told her,
"Everything will be okay."
Aunt Velmira, on the other hand, had lost her daughter in a
very different way. Little Alin had been taken to the hospital with a high
fever one winter day when she was only six—but they hadn't made it in time.
That day, her husband had also left her. "I can't take it
anymore," he had said, simply. After that, a silence had fallen into Velmira's
life. A silent, deep, suffocating silence.
That's why Aunt Velmira had built an obsessive wall of
protection around Liora. She wasn't her daughter, but she was too weary to
endure another loss.
Liora rested her hand on her chin and drifted into thought.
Sometimes I don't want to wake up in the mornings.
Because every morning I have to remember again.
My mother's smile, my father's goofy jokes…
Then the silence comes.
Like a cliff.
I'm alive, but they're gone.
And sometimes being alive feels like a punishment.
I live in my aunt's house, between these walls,
But the outside world feels so far away from me.
It's like there's a life behind that door,
But the moment I take a step, it feels like everything will
shatter into pieces.
I know my aunt loves me.
But her love feels like a chain.
There's only fear in her eyes.
Her daughter, her husband, and finally… the sister she lost.
Now, in order not to lose me, she's actually losing me.
She's locking me away. From the outside world, from friends, from dreams...
But I want to breathe.
I want to live.
And I don't want to feel guilty for it.
Liora took a deep breath and straightened up from where she had been resting
her head on the back of the chair. The silence in the kitchen had grown
heavier. Her aunt stood still in the opposite corner, lost in her own thoughts.
Just then, the phone in her pocket vibrated softly.
It was on silent, but the vibration echoed in the room like a scream. She
quickly pulled it out and looked at the screen.
[Arina]
"If you're ready, the camping plan is set! We leave Friday at noon, and we'll
be back Sunday evening. You're coming, right? No excuses. Please."
Liora's heart skipped a beat for a moment. Arina…
Her old classmate, maybe her only true friend. She was different from everyone
else. Persistent, yet gentle. Understanding, warm.
And she was inviting her. To something real.
To a real life.
Her fingers hovered over the message as she slightly lifted
her head. Her aunt was still staring out the window, her hands clasped on her
knees.
She couldn't bring herself to ask "Can I go?" right away.
But the silent scream inside her had only grown louder because of that message.
At that moment, she made her decision. She would go. No
matter the cost.
That evening.
The house was silent again. It was almost seven o'clock.
Her aunt was sitting on the couch as usual, the TV turned
on, but she wasn't even looking.
The sound was just covering the emptiness.
Liora took two deep breaths, clenched her fists, then
relaxed them. She leaned against the kitchen door, couldn't hold herself back,
and spoke:
"Aunt... I need to tell you something."
Velmira didn't turn her head. Without taking her eyes off
the screen, she simply said, "What is it?"
"With my friends… I want to go camping."
The sentence hung in the air. Her aunt's neck slowly began
to turn. Her eyes widened, her lips trembled.
"No," she said immediately.
"The forest, camping... What are you saying, Liora?"
"Aunt, please... This is very important to me."
"You're not at an age to know what's important to you," her
voice rose. "Outside is dangerous. People... people are bad. Accidents happen.
People go missing, they get sick..."
"I don't trust people, I trust you," said Liora.
"But this house... this house feels like a tomb to me. You
want to protect me, yes, I know. But I also want to live."
Velmira tightly gripped the edge of the couch with her hand.
Her eyes were filled with tears. "I... I'm afraid of losing you."
"I'm also afraid of losing you," said Liora. "I'll go. But I
promise you, I'll be careful. I'll text you every hour. If you want, I can even
share my location."
Silence. Deep, consuming silence.
Finally, Velmira averted her eyes and lowered her head.
"Promise me..." she said in a faint voice. "Promise me...
you'll come back."
Liora, unable to hold back her tears, approached and took
her aunt's hand.
"I promise. I'll come back."
Liora's bag was almost ready, but the weight of everything she put inside
felt different. She carefully packed almost everything: her sleeping bag, tent,
food, water bottles... But something was missing.
She thought for a while, then picked up her phone and reviewed the messages
from Arina's group:
"Don't forget, your phone is very important. But you can only share photos
as you take them."
For a moment, she decided to put her phone in the outer pocket of her bag.
But then she changed her mind. The more connected she stayed, the safer she
would feel. On the other hand, being free for a week, completely on her own,
promised her something—freedom.
She was tired of living under constant threat, always filled with the fear
of losing something. She needed to find herself, to discover a side of her she
had never known before.
Her eyes welled up, but she didn't cry. She just took a deep breath.
Quickly, she put the phone in her bag. That was enough.