The Silent Scream

‘What has it got to do with me? I just want to know about Aunt Celia.’ Dee blurted it out so fast; Valarie shook her head and said, ‘What did you say?’ ‘Aunt Celia is your mother.’ Valarie froze momentarily. ‘Is this a joke, what do you mean that Aunt Celia is my mother?’

Dee was regretting every moment of the conversation. Her speech became laboured and she struggled with the uncomfortable anxiety. ‘Aunt Celia was pregnant with you and Marlene when she and her husband were in a car accident and he died. Aunt Celia was hurt bad, and they had to do an emergency caesarean section to save you both. Aunt Celia never really recovered and she turned to the bottle and kept breaking down.

It was about two or three times that she had to go into the mental hospital.’

‘Poor Aunt Celia,’ said Dee. It was only then that she realised that Valarie had lapsed into a cold dead silence. Dee did not know what to say or do, so she kept on talking and even though she wanted to stop she could not stop herself. She went on. ‘The family got together and agreed that you and Marlene would be better off with Aunt Leah and Uncle Pete. They could not have any children and Aunt Celia could not look after you and Marlene, but they could.

Tears streamed down Valarie’s silent face, as her inaudible screams bellowed inside.

All her life started to replay itself over and over in her mind.

What she really wanted to do was run, run until she had ran it out, till it had no effect, but instead she sat there as it sank to the pit, the very bottom of her stomach. Dee did not know what to do, fear and regret came over her. Her arms reached out, but she sensed that Valarie would not receive them. What I have done? She thought. ‘If I had known it would do this to you I...

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... she had to get home and through the fog of her emotions she found herself parked outside her house. She waited, too afraid to move as the feelings of disbelief and dread expanded itself beside her.

Valarie needed to get into the house, but was afraid, afraid of facing Samuel, afraid of her own self. Nevertheless her need to be inside dragged her out of the car, as she spoke to everything in her to get her to the door.

As the door opened she rushed to the bathroom, the churning spewed itself in the toilet bowl. It flowed into her head, burning her brain and leaking out of her nose. The pain was everywhere and desperately needed release.

‘Valarie, is that you?’ The voice from the lounge waited for a response. Valarie did not or could not answer. She did not want him to see her like this. He called out again. Samuel knew that something was not right. It was the