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Chapter 2: My Silent Cries
The cold pizza box sat on the table, partially empty. Shual sat on the floor, chewing slowly, as if each bite weighed more than the last. Then suddenly, something inside him snapped.
A sharp, pained scream tore through the silence of the house.
He collapsed to the floor with a loud thud, gripping his head as if trying to tear the pain out. His body trembled violently.
> "Why me? Why was I the one to live? Whyyyy????"
"Does God hate me that much? What did I do to deserve this???"
He cried out, his voice hoarse with anguish. In a fit of despair, he swung his fists against the concrete wall, the skin splitting, blood smearing the surface with each hit.
The sound echoed through the empty hallways of the family home. A home no longer filled with laughter or warmth. Just silence. Silence and ghosts.
Shual collapsed into the corner of his bedroom, drawing his knees up to his chest. His arms folded over them, like a barrier against the weight pressing on his heart. His eyes shimmered with tears.
> "Where did I go wrong?" he whispered.
---
Usawalda Junior High School — Class 2-B
The morning sun bathed the classroom in warmth, but the atmosphere remained cold where one seat sat empty.
> "It's another day, and Shual is not in school," Ashley said, her voice quiet.
> "I'll go after school to see how he's doing," Miley replied, gazing out the window as she sighed.
---
Back at Shual's House
The walls of the home were now canvases of his silent cries. Crayon drawings scattered across the pale paint—childish and trembling.
One read:
"Hi, I'm still here."
Another:
"It's dark, I don't want to be alone."
He walked barefoot from room to room—kitchen, living room, bedrooms—dragging a crayon in one hand like a child lost in time.
Then, he began imitating his deceased family members.
He picked up his sister's dolls and arranged them gently, talking to them in a high-pitched voice. Then he grabbed his brother's toy truck, pushing it across the hallway floor.
He laughed. But it wasn't joy.
It was fractured. Hollow. Manic.
A chilling, schizophrenic laugh filled the house as he stumbled around, eventually slamming his head against the wall repeatedly.
> "I hate the dark. I hate pain," he mumbled between bursts of laughter.
His tone shifted—softer, trembling.
> "It's probably my fault they died. I was the one told to check the gas meter. But Dad punched me for not hurrying up… I was slow... Yes... I'm the one to blame."
His voice was barely a whisper.
---
The doorbell rang.
Shual froze. He walked to the front door and peeked through the eyehole. A girl stood outside. He struggled to place her face.
> "Uhmmm… Shual, are you there?" she asked gently.
He took a step back, away from the door.
> "Shual, I know you can hear me."
He sat behind the door, silent.
> "Shual, it's me—Miley. Miley McKay, your friend and classmate," she said, her voice soft, patient.
> "Please come out."
There was a long pause.
> "I... I... I don't know who Shual is," he replied quietly.
> "Shual? Shual?" she called out.
But he had already risen and walked slowly into the other room. His footsteps echoed through the lifeless house.
> "Huh? At least today he spoke to me," Miley whispered to herself as she turned to leave.
She paused at the gate, glancing back one last time.
> "I've been visiting him for the last two weeks... daily. Checking up on him. And he always turns me away," she murmured, then walked off.
Behind the upstairs window curtain, Shual watched her go. His face—expressionless. Cold. Distant.
He stepped away, only for his knees to buckle beneath him.
A seizure struck.
His body convulsed, falling against the floor. His fingers twitched, his breath caught. One arm reached upward shakily, as if grasping for something invisible—something lost.
---
Miley's Home – That Evening
The warm aroma of dinner filled the air. The clatter of tools came from the living room, where her father adjusted the TV antenna.
> "Hi dear," her mother called from the kitchen.
> "Yes, I'm home," Miley answered as she shut the door behind her.
> "Hello, Millie," her dad greeted with a warm smile.
> "Hey, Dad," she replied, dropping her bag onto the floor.
Her mom glanced over.
> "Again? Did he turn you away again?"
> "Yes," Miley said, taking off her shoes slowly.
> "What's it now, the hundredth time? Just don't give up on him," her dad added with gentle encouragement.
> "I won't," she said firmly.
She walked to her room, shut the door behind her, and jumped onto her bed. A tired sigh escaped her lips.
> "At least he spoke to me… even if it was one word," she said with a small smile, pulling a pillow close.
---
Her thoughts wandered back—
To that grey morning when Shual's family was buried.
She remembered the look in his eyes.
Red from crying. Hands trembling.
The whispers of mourners behind him echoed in her ears.
> "Poor thing lost his entire family," one woman had said.
> "And lost his grandparents last year as well," another added.
Miley had wanted to speak to him then. To comfort him. But as she approached, he had turned his face away.
> "Leave me alone," he said flatly, without looking at her.
> "Huh…?" she sighed, remembering.
---
Shual's House – Night
He sat on top of the washing machine, chewing on ice cubes from the freezer. The cold numbed his mouth—but it was the only thing that made him feel something.
> "I survived another day," he said calmly to no one..