Deafening Silence - Part II

Continuation from Part I.

“Alpris, why don’t you ever smile?” The girl’s mother says, frowning as Alpris drags herself into the house at five-thirty exactly, in the evening.
Dinner’s been cooking. The comforting aroma of beef macaroni hangs in the air. It would be inviting, if not for the burden of life itself.
Exhausted from fifteen minutes of sleep and a full day of being ridiculed by her peers, Alpris doesn’t bother answering. Her mother’s face is decorated with surprise and slight concern; eyes narrowed and completely blind to the situation and the monster that lurks. There were times when Alpris attempted to open up to her own mother, only to be accused of attention-seeking or hypochondriacally reacting. Either that or her mother simply did not care or believe enough to act. She’s sick of trying to decipher the difference. So Alpris just gives a slight nod in acknowledgment as she carries her heavy, weak body to the hall. She doesn’t even bother to explain why she is two hours late home from school. Her friends are the only people who would understand an after-school intoxicating session of alcoholism, smoking and practical jokes that require little speaking. Why go to the effort?

Alpris catches a glimpse of herself in the hallway mirror. She looks like a heroin junkie, with thirty years added to her life. Her gray-hazel eyes dull and lifeless, brandish slight bags; and her mouth feels glued shut with the little talk she manages each day. Even her skin complexion has lost its natural glow, only to be replaced by a half-hearted modest tan. It doesn’t exactly shock her anymore. The wear-and-tear she feels inside doesn’t even come close enough for comparison. She reaches up and tries to flick her hair to a bouncy, fictional flare but it falls flat. A pool of heavy, auburn strands hopelessly cascades her shoulders. A single sigh, the backpack weighing her shoulder down allows her just enough strength to enter her room, drop her bag and collapse onto her bed, which audibly creaks with age beneath her weight. The sun is barely awake now, but at least she can get an hour or two of much needed rest.