Eminent Silence

by Tristan Carey

  'I-I, um, she was…' I stammered, trying to find the right words as Brandt's face appeared in my head — her glowing eyes, her burning hands, attacking me, throttling me, the blinding white snow —

  'Amelia? Hello? I think I lost you there,' Kim said, still in that bright tone.

  I suddenly felt sick, dizzy. I was gripping the phone too hard. My other hand knotted in the comforter beneath me. My voice was hoarse when I said, 'Yes, she was th-the one who kidnapped me.'

  'You wouldn't perchance have a name, would you? The FBI aren't releasing her information to us yet. They say she may have ties to terrorist organizations —'

  'I don't know,' I cut her off. I wanted this conversation to end. Now. 'I-I don't know who she was.'

  'Oh. Okay, then,' Kim replied, somewhat hesitant, maybe a little disappointed. 'How about you tell us more about what happened Europe? Must have been quite a trip, huh? Seen any cool sites?'

  'It wasn't a vacation!' I snapped, trying to remember how to breathe. My face was burning. I could still hear Brandt's voice, whispering those words in my ear as she pinned me down to the floor. My skin broke out into a cold sweat, and I struggled to keep from stuttering. 'L-look, I don't want to talk a-about this anymore, okay? I d-don't want you writing about me.'

  'What? But people are curious!' Kim protested, in that sort of urging way that was supposed to tempt me. 'People want to know what happened to you!'

  'No, they don't,' I said, voice hard. No one wanted to know what I went through. They didn't want to know about the Crucible or the torture. They didn't want those sorts of details. They just wanted the happy ending. 'Trust me.'

  'Are you sure? Because we're also wondering if you'd be interested in going on live TV with our anchors,' Kim continued, with about the worst idea I've ever heard. 'For the evening news hour, when everyone's watching. Of course, since you're a minor, we'll need your mom or dad to sign off on this —'

  'No.'

  'What?' Kim asked, startled.

  'No.' I repeated, stronger this time. 'I'm not doing any interviews. I'm not going on TV.'

  'Amelia, please, think about this,' Kim laughed, but it was nervous. She knew she was losing me. She didn't know her efforts were fruitless. 'This is real news. You were kidnapped and no one even knew. People are worried. They want to know if something like this might happen to their own kids —'

  'Then go to the FBI!' I said, already well-aware that the FBI wasn't going to hand out the personal information of a minor. 'They can tell you all you want to know about staying safe. But you're not getting anything else from me.'

  'I know, but people will react better to a personal story —'

  'Exactly, it's personal.' I said. 'I don't need the whole world kn-knowing my business. I just want to be left alone.'

  'Amelia, don't you think you're being a little unreasonable —'

  I hung up.

  It took all my effort not to throw the phone against the wall. To hold onto it, to remind myself I was here, in Queens, and not back on the train in Sokovia, where we were attacked by the Komitet. That Brandt was arrested, that she would never hurt me again —

  'What was that about?'

  I blinked, looked up to see Peter and May peering at me in the doorway, identical expressions of curiosity on their faces.

  I took a deep breath, before holding out the phone for one of them to take. 'It was ABC, asking me about what happened. They wanted me to do a TV interview.' I paused, wondering how to phrase it nicely, considering my current mood. 'I said no.'

  May took the phone. From the look in her eye, I could tell she knew it didn't go well. 'Well, I'm sure they're just doing their jobs, but you'd think they'd wait a few days so you actually got settled first…'

  'News doesn't wait for anyone,' Peter said from the doorway, shrugging. 'You'll probably be getting more calls from other stations.'

  'If we do, I don't want to answer them,' I replied shortly, repressing a shudder. I didn't want to go through a hundred other Kim Kramers looking for a good story.

  'What do you want me to tell them?' Aunt May asked.

  I had to think it over. At this point, I didn't want any attention. I didn't want to see my face on the news. I didn't want people to know my entire life story, turn it into some inspirational Hallmark movie about the struggle of love and survival. The sooner this news wave passed, the sooner I faded back into anonymity, the better.

  'Just tell them,' I said. ''No comment.''Peter turned out to be right about the news stations. They came after us like hounds — first came the phone calls. In the first day alone of my being back, we had over a dozen phone calls before dinner, and even more afterwards. After we hit 37, May unplugged all the phones.

  Then they came in person, knocking on our doors. Reporters and photographers, with microphones, cameras, the whole shebang. It was even worse, because now the neighbors knew something was up, and most of them didn't even know who I was, much less that I was back from the dead. Of course, that was going to change if these idiots kept making a racket.

  May turned away each and every one of them. I wasn't a witness for most of them — she thought it was better they never even saw me, so they could report their own accounts.

  That was fine with me. Of course, I spent so much time sleeping that I had no idea Ned came by to visit until I woke up several hours after he'd left. I was disappointed when Peter told me, but I made up for the missed opportunity later when Ned called back.

  'Mia!' his shout practically blew out my eardrums when I first brought Peter's cellphone to my ear. We were sitting in his room, and I couldn't help but notice how he started a collection of newspaper clippings above his desk. 'Is that you?'

  I winced a little, laughing. 'Yeah, Ned, it's me.'

  'Back from the dead!' Ned was still shouting, and I realized I was lucky to have avoided this experience face-to-face. I was still too tired to deal with this. 'I'm so glad you're okay. You are okay, right? I heard you were all over Europe. And what was up with that weird email thing?'

  Peter gave me an apologetic grin from his bed as I rubbed my temple. 'It's, um, kind of a long story. But you and Peter figured it out, right?'

  'Oh, yeah! We totally knew you were still alive! Hey, so when do you think you're coming back? Peter made me promise not to tell anyone until you're ready.'

  'I…' My voice drifted a bit. To be honest, I hadn't thought of it until now. It was only my second day home. 'I'm not sure. But soon, I hope.'

  'Awesome!' I could practically hear Ned fistpumping. 'I can't wait. Can you imagine the looks on everyone's faces when you come walking through those doors? I mean, they know you're alive and all, but still, they're totally gonna freak, I know it. Yo, you're gonna love it when you see what happened to the cafeteria, it looks so much better now…'

  Ned went on like that, and I tried my best to keep up my end of the conversation, but in the end I just ended up listening and nodded my head for another hour. I'd forgotten how energetic and talkative Ned was. I missed it, like I missed everything else, but like everything in life, only in small doses first. I was actually exhausted when I finally handed the phone to Peter, who picked up Ned's conversation without missing a beat. I'm not even sure if Ned noticed.

  The second night at home, I woke up disoriented, alone and confused in an unfamiliar room — I nearly had a panic attack before I remembered where I was, that I was safe.

  And that was the worst part. Being alone, I mean. May went back to work, and Peter still had school, which left me in the apartment by myself for over eight hours. Some kids might find this liberating, fun — you could do whatever you wanted, right? But I didn't have the energy, the joy to just relax and take in the silence.

  I'd already had enough silence. I'd spent enough time on my own to know that I hated it. I hated every knock on the door, wondering who it was but knowing I couldn't answer it, only praying they'd go away soon. I hated the sudden bursts of police sirens
that echoed down the streets; the bangs I thought were a gunshots, but were just the old radiator pipes clanging up and down the building. Darkness shrouded my bedroom, since I kept the window closed and covered at all times. I always kept it in my line of sight, trying to tell myself I was crazy for feeling paranoid, like there wasn't a sniper currently lining up his sights to the back of my head.

  I missed Aunt May and Peter so much that I couldn't stand being out of their presence. For almost the entirety of my trip back home, I had always had companionship in the form of Wanda and Pietro. I'd gotten used to their presence that it hurt when I woke up alone on the Bus, and I'd forgotten the intense fear and helplessness I felt first waking up alone in those snowy mountains, wandering in a daze.

  It was just like that, all over again. Alone, confused, lost.

  And on top of it all, my dreams soon revealed to be one less respite to hide in. I had a small nightmare when I had slept on the couch; that had been a preamble to what would eventually become a regular occurrence whenever I closed my eyes. I didn't even have to be asleep anymore. The Crucible still found me, still filled my head with images and memories I didn't want anymore.

  It wasn't fair. This should be over now, shouldn't it? I did it. I had finally made it home, but it was like I couldn't get away. I didn't want to keep reliving this anymore.

  I didn't tell Aunt May or Peter. Five days in, and I felt about as well-rested as never, but I broke my promise and didn't tell her about the dreams. About how I slept through the days, but found the nights restless, haunting. But Aunt May must have figured out something was going on; it was just the way she looked at me sometimes, like she was worried, like she knew I was holding back when I laughed and smiled with Peter as he recounted school events.

  I was starting to think I might have a problem when Aunt May surprised me in the middle of a reverie.

  'Mia?' Her hand touched my shoulder and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

  I had been in the middle of vacuuming. It might seem lame, but I'd taken up doing some chores just to keep myself occupied during the day, so my mind didn't wander to places I didn't want it to go.

  It didn't always work. The sound of the vacuum's motor had filled my ears to a deep rumbling, and for a moment I found myself back in Novi Grad, facing off the massive force of the tanks as they leveled their cannons at the city and the gathering resistance fighters.

  May's touch pulled me back, and I found myself a little breathless, gripping the vacuum handle too tight. I could feel the plastic hand starting to give, and I had to consciously unclench my hand before I could break it in front of Aunt May.

  Her voice echoed, as though she were shouting down a long tunnel, even as she stood, right in front of me. 'Are you okay?'

  'What?' I asked, stumbling on my feet a little. I glanced around, again feeling out of place, wondering where this apartment came from when I was just in Sokovia moments before.

  'You've been standing still right there for ten minutes,' Aunt May said, frowning in concern. She reached over and turned off the vacuum for me. 'Just staring at the wall. Is everything okay?'

  I looked down at myself, surprised. Had I really not been doing anything for so long? How did I keep losing track of time? 'I-I'm okay. Just thinking.'

  'About what?' Aunt May asked, tilting her head.

  I just shrugged, making a noncommittal noise. It was an innocent question, and I hoped she'd buy a vague answer. I couldn't come up with a lie on the spot; I didn't know what to say. How could I talk about it to someone who was never there? She'd never understand, not really, not in the way Wanda and Pietro would.

  I missed them. I missed them so much. I should've tried harder to bring them with me to America.

  'About school?' Aunt May guessed, her voice once more startling me. I'd zoned out again, and I shook myself over, frustrated. I had to stop doing that, especially when I was in front of people.

  'Um, yeah, a little,' I lied, another shrug. It was about a good idea as any.

  Her eyes pinched around the corners, as if she could tell I was just making this up on the spot. That I was covering again. Sometimes I liked to think I was a good liar, but then I forgot that there were people like Aunt May who knew me too well. Yet, for some reason, she didn't call me out on it.

  Instead, she said, 'Hmm, me too. I was thinking you could start again in January, with the new semester. How does that sound?'

  'Whoa, what, January?' My heart skipped a beat. Suddenly I was highly aware of my environment. I shook my head, unable to believe the thought. January? I couldn't do January. 'No way. I can't wait that long.'

  'Well, it's pretty late in the school year. You're way too far behind to catch up now,' Aunt May pointed out, screwing up her lips to one side as she planted her hands on her hips. 'Mia, I really don't think it's a good idea to start before next year. You just got back. Everyone will understand that you need to rest a bit more, that you need time to adjust —'

  'No, you don't understand!' I held up my hands, almost a little frantic. Adjust? This wasn't about adjusting. I couldn't keep doing this for another two months. 'I can't sit here at home just twiddling my thumbs all day, or I'm going to lose my freaking mind! I need to do something.'

  'Okay, okay!' Aunt May took a half-step back, startled by my reaction. Clearly she didn't think I'd take it so seriously. 'Hey, it's fine, Mia. I didn't realize it bothered you so much. If you really want to go back to school, then I...I'm sure we can work something out with Principal Morita.'

  'R-really?' I asked, slumping in relief. I had to take a second to catch my breath. Even I was a little caught off guard by my reaction. I underestimated how badly I wanted to get out of here.

  'Of course,' Aunt May smiled, and she put a placating hand on my arm again — only to pull away again when I flinched. Her smile wavered, and she added, 'Just sit tight, okay? I'll call Morita, see what we can do.'

  I nodded stiffly, both hands back around the handle of the vacuum again. I didn't realize I'd gone completely tense until Aunt May left for the kitchen, when I relaxed again. My blood was pounding. It felt like I'd just ran a mile through the streets of Novi Grad.

  And all just so I could go back to school.

  Jeez.

  'Mia, I'm so glad to see you're doing...well.'

  Morita seemed unsure of his own statement as his eyes traveled up to my head, down to my feet, then back up again. He hesitated before taking my hand, looking a little pale. I had shot over three inches over his head, which must be a serious shock for him. I was likewise a little weirded out by how small he seemed now.

  Aunt May had my back, and she nudged me forward when Principal Morita retreated to his desk. She was looking extra perky today — to give me that extra optimism, and maybe cow any adversity through the sheer power of her smile. It used to work on Uncle Ben all the time.

  We took the two seats in front of Morita's desk. His room was small, with windows along one wall showing the corridor outside, but it was quiet in here. I noted the framed picture up on one shelf, along with a frame of WWII medals. It occurred to me I'd never been in here. I had no idea Morita had family that served in the war. It looked like it could've been his dad. Actually, he looked a little familiar… was that one of the Howling Commandos?

  It was after school on a Tuesday. Peter was somewhere in the school, but the rest was nearly empty — no one had seen me when I came in, which was just fine by me. At least Principal Morita knew what I looked like now, for future reference.

  'So, Mia, your aunt tells me you want to return to Midtown,' Morita started, lacing his fingers across his desk, brown eyes furrowing a little. He spoke with a measured tone, but I could still hear his uncertainty. 'I have to admit, I'm a little surprised. I don't usually get kids who want to come back to school, especially so soon after…' he paused, then cleared his throat. 'Ahem. Well, I just want to let you know that… after everything that's happened, we're here for you. We'll do anything w
e can to help you out.'

  'Thanks,' I said, feeling dumb. I wasn't going to ask him what he meant by that. 'I just… I don't want to wait until next semester. I know it's November, a-and I've missed a lot of classes, but it wouldn't be much different if I were a new student, right? I can just fit right back in.'

  'Of course,' Morita gave me a small smile, then pulled out some paperwork from a drawer. 'Since you, er, left school in the middle of your second semester as a Freshman, I think it would be best if you retake those classes. By the end of Spring semester, you'll be caught up —'

  'Wait, spring semester? What do you mean?' I shook my head, struggling to understand what he was proposing. 'Are you saying I have to retake Freshman year? But I was almost done! Why can't I join the Sophomores?'