It didn’t always use to be this quiet in the house on Willowberg Lane. The sound of laughter once echoed across the walls as Millie raced away from her mother. The woman would always be hot on her heels, a smile spread across her face as she promised she was going to catch her daughter. It doesn’t take much for things to change.

Millie wasn’t told what it was specifically. She assumed some heart disease. It didn’t matter though because her mother only lasted a month after receiving her diagnosis. Millie had never hated lilacs more than that dreaded day in April. Her mother’s favorite flower. The request has been etched in her will. The flowers frame the doorway. Millie refuses to look at them.

Her father stopped talking to her after that. What used to be a man that would take her out to get ice cream after school, ruffling her hair with a fond smile became something much different. He didn’t talk to her when he brought her back home. She only saw him when he dropped her off and then picked her up. Otherwise, he busied himself with his work, buried in paperwork more often than not. She preferred that to the night of the funeral. Drunken slurs and broken glass that stained her fingers red. Anything was better than that.

She was alone most of the time now. Without the presence of her father or the love of her mother, she did not have anyone else in this house. For a while, Millie tried to busy herself with schoolwork. That was the closest thing to what her dad did and it seemed to work for him. She wasn’t her dad though. Her mind wandered, finding connections to memories of when happiness still ruled her life. Her mother jokingly teaching her algebra with the example of pancakes she was making. The smell of fresh bacon has lingered in the air. The two got so preoccupied they didn’t notice the burning smell at first until her father had peeked in the room to make an inquiry about the smell. The two has shared a look before her mother raced to turn the stove off while Millie held back her giggles. Now she stares at that stupid x and feels like tearing the sheet in half.

It’s quiet. Too quiet. Millie finds herself hating the quiet. She always used to but her mother briefly changed her mind, insisted that the movies of nature could not be heard if they were lost to the sounds of people. Millie wished the thoughts in her mind would be drowned out be the background noise on her room. She couldn’t remember when it had started or why but a lingering buzzing sound came from behind the closet. She couldn’t find a way to turn it off and she didn’t dare to ask her dad about the noise.

But today…today she had enough. The girl pushed herself up swiftly before moving over to her closet, flinging the doors open and then peering inside. She looked around slightly for the offender before noticing. The wallpaper curling. She tilted her head, tracing her hand over its edge before grasping the corner firmly and lifting it up. The paper peeled back with startling ease. Wooden frames met her gaze as she looked under the wallpaper….she thought that was the end of her adventure until she noticed a gap big enough to slip through.

Carefully, Millie wove her way through the gap, letting the wallpaper fall back behind her. She turned her phone flashlight on carefully as she walked into the room. It almost looked like an attic? Boxes were all over the place as she looked around. For a moment, she thought it was just all worthless junk but then she saw what had been causing her the noise. A light glow poured out from under an old rug. She lifted the rug up to see an old television set, static covering its screen. She turned the knob, checking for any sort of signal. “What the hell?” She whispered to herself. She placed her hand on the screen before jolting back as she heard a thud, seeing a hand in the static meet her own touch. Hesitantly she moved back over, lightly tracing her fingers over the pattern of the hand on the other side of the glass. “Hello?” Her voice was soft, hesitant. The hand knocked slightly. Taps given with purpose and short meaning… Morse code taught to her by her father when they went on the water one summer. I… L…O…V…E…Y…O…U. I love you. “…Mom?” She placed her hand on the screen over the sillouette already present. A small smile formed on her face at the warmth through the screen. “Don’t worry, mom… I’m here now. I won’t ever let you go.”