The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows

A new house. A new town. Just what every 16 year old wanted a new place to stand out, to be a misfit.

This had happened all too often since the incident. Roots were violently ripped from the ground that they had just started to grow back into the ground

Of all houses we had “settled” in, this one was by far the largest and oldest. It seemed like it had come from the Victorian era, it was surprising to see in a fairly modernized suburban town.

   

Everything seemed uniform, all newer homes (f I dare call them that) were beige and made from rock of whatever variety, with a two car garage to match. Lined up perfectly for the perfect life of the modern family. Not a thing out of place.

   

“This is our new beginning, kids! A clean slate!” mom exclaimed, just as she did every time we were attempting (and failing) to reroot ourselves in houses we were forced to call home when they weren't homes at all. They lacked everything that made a house a home.

“Oh, wow, mom, it’s so nice,” Lucy’s voice dripped sarcasm, “it doesn’t stand out at all.”

“They left everything in the house. No one is sure why.”

“Maybe because the place looks like a house where some dude ran an underground

abortion clinic in his basement.”

   

Mom just sighed and started to pick up boxes from beside the car. She probably got tired of our bullshit, but we got tired of hers. Who decided it was okay to do this to kids?

Dragging my feet in the gravel, I followed my mother into the house. Everything was covered in a layer of dust.

“Damn.” I mumbled, dragging my finger across the windowsill, dust sticking to it. “This place smells awful.”

“A lot of air and  frebreeze should change that.”

“I hope so…”  I wandered off into the next room. It was small, wall papered with that disgusting shade of yellow that comes with age and faded flowers. Most houses that my mother decided on were new, clean, bleach white. Not covered in dust, faded wallpaper, or reeking of death.

There were too many doors for such a small room. Did all houses from this age have this many doors? There two doors on two of the walls. It was like a maze. Reaching for the nearest doorknob-

“Well, I ordered pizza for you guys, I’m going to go to the grocery store and apply. I doubt journalists around here.”

“You never know, there’s always something to write about.”

When she had left, Lucy expressed her discontent with the house, and wouldn't stop. According to her, it gave off a bad vibe. She was wiping down walls and bookshelves.

“Seriously Fleur, this place is creepy.”

“You only think that because you’re used to modern houses.”

“It’s a mess. It’s awful. We probably shouldn't move things around.”

“Why do you say that?”

“This place was left for a reason. All we’re doing is stirring things up.”

“You’re just telling yourself that.” She was probably right, there was a reason why this house was still standing.

My mom came home several hours later, becoming very frustrated when she had found out that Noah hadn't made an appearance since we had arrived.

“Noah, where are you? And why are you on a college campus that isn’t your own?  I know you’re twenty years old but your sisters might’ve needed your help.”

Noah wouldn't have been help anyways, he’d be texting Korra. “Oh babe, I had to move again, I’m so sorry. I love you.” Even though he was banging every college-aged girl wherever we were. Girls were at his disposal, if he wanted one, he got one, and then threw her away once he was done. He had gotten many calls from girls, a lot of scares.

I only say “scares” because I hadn't seen any of those girls with a swollen stomach or a baby after they’d called. The only girl who would was Korra. And mom didn't know that yet. Only Korra, Noah, and I did. Korra was maybe two months, and Noah was desperately trying to get out on his own for a reason.

“He’s been on edge lately.” Mom knew that I knew why.

“Has he?”

“It’s Korra, isn't it? She’s been sort of clingy lately.”  Do moms like have some sort of sixth sense?

“Yes.”

“Is she pregnant?” Well, that answered my own question.

“Yes, she’s around two months. You don’t know, okay?”

“No, of course not.”

“He wants her to ‘get rid of it’. She’s been trying to discuss her options with him but he seems to completely ignore the fact that keeping the baby is one.”

“It’s because he doesn't want to lose his freedom.”

“Well, maybe he should have thought about that before.”

“You’re right, there’s not much of an excuse for it.”

“In the end, it’s up to Korra.”

“Korra is intelligent, she knows what she wants. She’ll still evaluate every option, pros and cons. What’s best for her, what’s best for him.”

“I know.” Which was true, but it's not like I really cared. Just because I know, it doesn't mean I care. I know a lot of things and don't care about most of them. I'm not sure why, but caring for things just isn't my area of strength. Apathy is a much easier route. Just don't care about anything, and you won't have any problems.

   

Lucy kept exclaiming her discontent and the way she perceived the house. Questions were a constant flood from her mouth. Why did you chose this town? Why did you chose this house? Mom, it's awful and- Why is this house still here? Why hasn't it been tore down? Why isn't there a new house exactly where I'm standing? There's something awful here, mom, I know it. Why aren't you answering any of my questions? More importantly, are you even listening to me?

The simple answer was "no". No, I'm not listening to you because your never ending questions about my decisions piss me off. And I don't care about your ultra- sensitive perception of everything.

The darker the sky outside got, the more Lucy's discontent grew. It wasn't like Lucy to drag things out even when she wasn't happy. It was extremely annoying, the way she'd just keep telling mom and I that this place was bad. 

"Lucy, no there's not. You're just not used to living in old houses." which was true, all of the houses prior to this one were new. None were built more than 10 years before we had inhabited them. This place was built in the 1800s.

"I'm going to go to bed," Lucy mumbled, exhausted from her constant attempts to convince mom and I that this place was off. "If I can even sleep, there's so much negative energy here."

"Now you just sound weird. 'Negative energies'," Noah scoffed, walking through the doorway. "What are 'negative energies'?"

"Something that you just radiate." Lucy spit back in his face, burying her elbow in his stomach before wandering to find the staircase.

"What's her problem?" he lift up his shirt, he had already begun to bruise.

"How old is she again?"

"She's thirteen."

"That explains it."

Mom, Noah, and I started to push some of the old furniture out of the way. The room was formerly a parlor, and in order to get this place the way mom wanted it, we had to rearrange everything. Anything she didn't want would go to the attic or the basement. Only after we had cleaned those too.

"What's that noise?"

"What noise?"

"You mean you don't hear it?" It sounded like muffled screaming.

"I don't hear anything."

"It sounds like there's muffled screaming coming from the basement."

"There's nobody in the basement."

"Well, there's a noise coming from the basement."

Without asking for their assistance, I went to find the basement. It was old, it smelled musty. It was filthy. There was a clawfoot bathtub in the corner with water sloshing over the sides violently. There's millions of questions that could be running through my head. The screams had stopped.

Just before I stepped towards the tub, someone jolted up out of it, coughing and gasping for air, grasping the sides.