Madison Shore
Monday, 6:06pm, September 10, 2025
I've always hated silence.
Not the peaceful kind—the kind that comes when you're alone with your thoughts and everything feels still. No, I mean the heavy kind. The silence that hangs in the air between people, thick with things no one dares say.
That's the kind of silence that fills my house.
My mom works nights at the hospital. My dad… well, he's not really in the picture. Hasn't been for a while. Which is ironic, since his picture still hangs crooked by the hallway stairs. Mom doesn't have the heart to take it down. I do. But I don't touch it. We don't talk about him. Or anything, really.
It's just me, her, and the echo of everything we're too tired—or too afraid—to say.
I wake up most mornings before the sun, lace up my sneakers, and run. Not for the track team. For me. It's the only time I feel in control. Every step drowns out the noise in my head. Every mile puts distance between me and everything I can't fix.
By the time I get to school, I've already built my armor.
I smile when I have to. I joke. I keep my head down, except when I'm on the court. There, I'm loud. Confident. Untouchable.
But lately… I've felt the cracks forming.
Elijah sees them. I know he does.
We used to be close—last year, especially. I told myself it was nothing. Just friendly. But he noticed things. Things I didn't want anyone noticing. When we stopped talking as much, I thought it was a relief.
Until I realized he still knew too much.
He never said anything. Not directly. But there was this one time, a few weeks ago, in the hallway—he looked at me with that gentle, knowing expression that made me want to crawl out of my own skin.
"You okay, Maddie?" he asked, soft and sincere.
I shrugged. "Aren't I always?"
He smiled, but not the amused kind. It was sad. Too sad. Like he saw right through me.
That's when I knew.
He hadn't forgotten.
That's why, when he said we were all hanging out after school Wednesday, something inside me twisted.
I wanted to say no.
But I couldn't be the only one who bailed. Especially not when everyone else was acting like this was just another casual reunion.
And maybe… maybe I just missed him.
Missed the way he used to look at me like I wasn't broken.
Monday night, I sat in my room with the lights off, pretending to study, but really just staring at the same sentence in my textbook over and over.
If he tells someone…
The thought pulsed in my skull like a second heartbeat.
I had worked too hard to keep everything hidden. I couldn't let it unravel now.
I glanced over at the photo on my dresser—me and Mom at a volleyball tournament, arms around each other, grinning like everything was fine.
I almost believed it myself.
The next day came too fast.
At lunch, we all sat on the edge of the field. Everyone laughed. Joked. Like things hadn't changed.
But I saw the way Elijah looked at me. I saw the pause.
And I hated how my throat closed up every time I met his eyes.
I wanted to believe he wouldn't say anything.
I needed to believe that.
But I knew better than to trust anyone with the truth.
Not even Elijah.