The cabin felt quiet, but it wasn’t the kind of quiet that soothes. It is the kind that of silence that presses down on one chest, suffocating in its heaviness. The kind of silence filled with words unsaid, but were sharp enough to cut.When Cole moves about, he doesn’t look at me. His footsteps thud heavily against the wooden floor, heavy, deliberate, each one a reminder that he is here yet not here at all. We share the same roof, the same bed, the same air, but we share nothing else.At meals, he eats quickly, his eyes fixed anywhere but on mine. Sometimes by accident his hand will brush against the edge of my plate, and as though he has been burned he jerks it away, his muscles tightening, jaw clenching. Other times before the sun has even set, he pours him a cup of whiskey, swallowing it down like it’s water. I don’t comment. I wouldn’t even dare.Sometimes I feel it would be easier if he just shouts. If he would just hurl the truth at me until the walls rattled. But he doesn’
Last Updated : 2025-09-18 Read more