Silence

By Adya Chatterjee

At first, it seemed that Silence would be a story that would never end. Yes, it is the story of broken people and broken hope while also sifting through the heartbreak that a child faces while finding herself. Through poetry and honesty, it is truly the story of choosing the rhythms that lead our lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 28, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543453546

Adya Chatterjee

Adya Chatterjee is an aspiring writer who just published her debut novel *Silence*. She lives in Singapore as she pursues her passions including poetry, basketball, dogs and her life in 8th grade. To catch a glimpse at her whirlwind of a writing journey follow her on Instagram @a.c.unscripted.

Book preview

*Silence*

Adya Chatterjee

Copyright © 2017 by Adya Chatterjee.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2017914738

ISBN:                   Hardcover                      978-1-5434-5352-2

                            Softcover                        978-1-5434-5353-9

                            eBook                              978-1-5434-5354-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Rev. date: 09/28/2017

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Contents

Wishes

PART 1 If only I had seen through you

Daughter

Dreamer

Shooting Star

Full

Under the Blanket of Stars

Sleeping Pills

My Heart

Blurred

PART 2 If only fairy tales were about the characters, and not their happy endings

Daughter

Once Upon a Time

Perfect

Stuck

Weight

Flying Away

Okay

Look a Little Closer

PART 3 No one cares unless you are pretty— or dying

Daughter

Forcing a Heart

Hopeless Romantic

Beat by Beat

They Say

Height

What it Means to be Quiet

I am Sorry Sorry Sorry

Sometimes

PART 4 I don’t like the memories because eyes flare easily, but I don’t want to forget because those were the best days. I need help. No, not your help.

Daughter

Attitude

I won’t

Yet

Wild Eyes

Fell

A Shoulder to Cry On

Screams

Dear Sandman

PART 5 ALAMORT: (adj.) Half dead from exhaustion. Somehow still going normally.

Daughter

Done

Painful, Beautiful

Like

Of Stone and Flesh

All You Need to Know

In the Dark

Nearly Impossible

As a Writer

Drunk on Love

Phone Calls

Getting Back Up

Nothing

Listen to me will you?

Make Some Noise

PART 6 She was a mastermind of sadness. The genius of anger. She was a prism from which the roots of heartbreak reflected to create a dynasty. An infinite elegy describing how not to feel. She broke beautifully.

Daughter

If This is It

Scars

Swans

Thank You’s

Fear of Falling

They Know Better

Up against the wall

Strong

The Thing About Words

Fix(ed) Me

Even Fire is Sweet

PART 7 Sometimes breadcrumb trails are the only way lost souls will find their way back home

Daughter

Dear Courage,

A Child

Moonstone

Fly

I See

Run

Lover. Fighter.

You vs. Me

I Forgive you

Daughter

Author’s Note

Acknowledgements

Wishes

At night the

Stars take up

The dark sky

The hopes

And dreams

And wishes

Of thine

Through rain

And clouds look up

To you

And grant those

Wishes

Of mine

Most stories begin with a name and age, so you want to know mine, don’t you? Well, I suppose you will have to wait because this is not just my story.

PART 1

If only I had seen through you

Daughter

8:30 pm: My family was not perfect, but they loved me and they cared. When you grow up, bedtimes get delayed further and further and eventually, cease to exist. I dance around my bedtimes avoiding important issues, but fatigue does to me what goodnight kisses used to.

9:00 pm: It’s odd to stare at the ceiling alone. Alone today, tonight, tomorrow. During the day, it’s ridiculous to notice the fuzzy little details. I wait. Not for anybody, but for the familiar sound of the door creaking open when my dad comes to check if I am asleep, before he goes to sleep himself.

9:30 pm: I should be sleeping, but I am not. I mean, I think it’s normal, but the abhorrent feeling in my gut says otherwise. Something is out of place, but I don’t want to find out what. I get up to get a warm glass of milk—pretending it actually works—before I go back to bed.

10:00 pm: I’m still awake when I hear the front door creak open. Dad is home. I close my eyes again because I wait for my door to open and close, but it never comes.

10:30 pm: Something is thrown to the floor on the other side of the door. Hostile, doors are flying backwards and yelling ensues. I cannot see what is happening, but inside, my heart drops.

10:35 pm: I creep downstairs and watch.

You…you stupid bastard. How could you? What am I to you? A naive game- —round and round. You slept with her?

What? This…this girl means more to you than our family?

10:36 pm: Heart pounds. Mind lost. Hands frenzied. Men were never supposed to be strong. They are not, for I can see the tears lining my dad’s eyes.

I feel as though I am being stabbed. Stabbed where it was never supposed to hurt. I walk away, dazed and broken-hearted. As my door closes, the screaming arises.

11:00 pm: I want to sleep and escape these horrors, but sleep refuses to comply. I stare at the ceiling until the screaming morphs into tears. I wait… and wait…and wait…awake. It’s confusing.

12:00 am: I know exactly what is happening and yet, my mind has been rejecting these thoughts. Brutal unseen whispers are begging for me to give in—to understand. Understanding would be to call my dad a cheater. Understanding would mean losing my family. Understanding would be walking on glass, expecting not to be cut. But blood is inevitable.

1:30 am: *silence*

Dreamer

I am a dreamer

Always thinking

Quietly thinking.

They say I have an

Imagination

So wild

And hectic

I am a dreamer

Always thinking

Quietly thinking.

Life scares me

Yes it does

Which is better

Reality