Scream Silently

Dalton’s room was well decorated, not too crowded with furniture, but not empty, either. He lined his walls with posters, classic horror films, cult classics, indie music bands; it was a collage of stereotypical hipster obsessions, the teenage counterculture shared by Scarlett and Dalton both. Naturally, she fawned over the pictures plastered across his walls, her favourite movie, and the favourite band that nobody else knew.
He led her to take a seat on the bed, covered by a basic black bedspread, not sure what to do and limited with ideas for conversation. While it wasn’t like Dalton to be at a loss for words, it wasn’t much like either of them to start a conversation. And so they sat in a moment of awkward silence. Dalton knew Scarlett was his, that they trusted each other and that she was next to him intending to stay, but Scarlett’s heart pounded. She knew nothing about Dalton, lacked all understanding into his feelings, and jumped to the worst. She tried to hold back her self-destructive urges, struggling to stop the thoughts from coming into her mind at all. She knew she lacked self-preservation, and she knew sanity was questionable, but the struggle for control was all too overwhelming.
“Dalton,” she started out.
“Yeah?”
“Um,” she bit her tongue, lacking the courage needed to ask him how he really felt, “I like your room, it’s really cool.”
“Thanks,” he said, “it’s basically a collection of everything I’ve come to love recently.” He smiled, then shrugged, “But of course, that’s obvious.”
“Well it’s still nice,” she looked at him with a small smile.
Dalton returned the gaze straight into her eyes, reading the browns and greens as they swirled around her dilated pupils. He could sense her insecurity, but he couldn’t make himself feel it, he couldn’t reach the brink of conflict she was facing mentally as they spoke.
“Scarlett, are you okay?”
She nodded and gave him a firm look, “I’m good.”
“Good,” Dalton responded. A slight chill ran down his spine, and he shivered, but both him and Scarlett were too absorbed in each other to notice the figures in the trees. He inched closer to her.
“Would you like anything to eat?”
Scarlett bit her lip, she was hungry, but, “Well, if you do, I’ll have some too.” Dalton gave her a puzzled look. “I can’t really eat unless everyone else is,” she shrugged, “It’s just this thing I have…”
“Alright,” he stood up, taking her hand and pulling her up with him. “Well, do you like tortilla chips?” Scarlett nodded, and followed him down the stairs to eat in silence.
When they’d finished, they stood in the kitchen looking at one another, strongly but not intently. A storm had strongly set in, and lightning flashed across their faces from the windows. Shadows of figures were cast on the wall along with the silhouettes of the trees outside, neither of which went noticed.
“Scarlett,” Dalton took her hand, “I want you to know something.”
“What is it?” she asked, blushing.
“I think… Well I don’t know how to put it eloquently. I think that you and I should be more than friends.” Dalton’s gaze shifted to the wall behind Scarlett.
Her face turned bright red, but the color was distorted by the rhythmic flashing of lightning, and she took a step forward to bury her face in his chest. Dalton stood still and completely emotionless. Scarlett spoke with barely a whisper, “I think that would work well.”
It was with that crack of thunder that he wrapped his arms around her, shielding her from all of the monsters outside.