Here's **Chapter 3: "The Silence After"** in its entirety, delving into Lena's withdrawal, Michael's guilt, and the quiet rage of trauma that refuses to be spoken.
*CHAPTER 3: THE SILENCE AFTER**
**Trigger Warnings:** PTSD, dissociation, emotional manipulation (non-graphic).
**1. The Decision**
Lena woke with her jaw clenched so tight her teeth ached.
It wasn't intentional, at first. She simply opened her mouth to answer her therapist's voicemail (*"Call me when you're ready"*) and found her throat sealed shut, as if packed with wet sand.
*Fine*, she thought. *Let it stay that way.*
She texted her boss: *"Sick. Won't be in."*
Deleted Michael's 14 unread messages.
Drank tea with honey, not because it helped, but because the heat reminded her she could still *feel* something.
On the fridge, a photo of them hiking last summer—Michael's arm around her waist, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. She covered it with a magnet shaped like a crow
**2. The Ritual**
Silence became her armor. She moved through her apartment like a ghost:
- Peeling an orange at the sink, letting the rind fall in one long spiral.
- Scrubbing paint flecks from her cuticles until they bled.
- Pressing her forehead to the cool bathroom mirror, fogging the glass with each breath.
Her therapist called again. Lena typed a reply but didn't send:
*"What's left to say? He didn't listen then. Why would he now?"*
**3. The Intruder**
On the fifth day, Michael showed up.
She knew it was him by the knock—three quick raps, then a pause, like he was rehearsing a speech. She didn't move.
"Lena?" His voice muffled through the door. "I know you're in there. Your car's here."
The peephole distorted his face: red-rimmed eyes, stubble, a grocery bag dangling from one hand. *Apology props*, she thought.
She considered letting him stand there forever. Instead, she unlocked the door and walked away, leaving it open just enough to say: *You may enter, but you are not welcome.*
**4. The Conversation (Without Words)**
Michael hovered in the kitchen. "I brought soup. And that bread you like from—"
Lena picked up her sketchbook, wrote in charcoal:
**YOU DON'T GET MY VOICE ANYMORE.**
He flinched. "You're really not going to talk to me?"
She flipped the page, wrote:
**YOU DIDN'T LISTEN WHEN I DID.**
A beat. Then, quietly: "I didn't force you, Lena. You froze. I thought you just needed time to—"
Her pencil snapped. She hurled the pieces at the wall.
**5. The Truth**
Michael sank onto her couch, hands dangling between his knees. "Okay. Okay. Tell me what to do."
Lena grabbed the notepad:
**1. STOP SAYING WHAT YOU THOUGHT.
2. ADMIT YOU IGNORED ME.
3. LEAVE.**
He read it. Swallowed. "I ignored you," he whispered. "I was so fucking selfish. I just… I didn't want to believe I could be like *him*."
Lena stared at him. Wrote one last line:
**NOW YOU KNOW.**
She pointed to the door.
**6. The Aftermath**
When he was gone, Lena lay on the floor, cheek pressed to the hardwood. The silence roared in her ears.
Somewhere, a siren wailed. A neighbor laughed. Life kept moving.
She reached for her phone, typed two words to her therapist:
**"I'm ready."**
Then she curled into herself and wept—not for Michael, not for the past, but for the girl who'd spent years folding her pain into smaller and smaller shapes, hoping someone would notice how it cut her hands.
**Next Chapter Teaser:** *Chapter 4: "Unspoken (Art Series)"* — Lena transforms rage into art, using broken glass and acrylics to sculpt her truth.