The Shattered Silence

Mia POV

After finishing a delicious dinner that Mom had made, I stepped outside to grab a smoke. As I leaned against the railing, I pulled out my phone and sent a message to my sister: "Let’s go out again tomorrow."

The moment I hit send on the text to my sister, my phone buzzed with an incoming call. It was from the company I had applied to for the accounts clerk position. I hesitated for a moment before answering, a feeling of dread creeping up my spine.

“Hello, Mia Anderson?” a stern voice on the other end asked.

"Yes, speaking." I replied, my stomach already in knots.

“I’m calling in regard to your application. Unfortunately, we will not be moving forward with your candidacy for the position,” the voice continued, “After reviewing your records, it has come to our attention that you have been arrested multiple times—three to be exact—for stealing, drug abuse, damaging property, and drinking and driving. These actions are in direct violation of our company’s standards.”

I froze, unable to process the words at first. My heart raced, and I felt the blood drain from my face. How could they know about all of that?

The voice continued, “We appreciate your interest in the position, but we cannot proceed with your application based on these findings.”

I wanted to respond, but the words felt stuck in my throat. I ended the call, staring at the screen in disbelief. I felt like the world had just come crashing down around me. 

That moment of rejection hit like a punch to the gut. No matter how much I tried to move forward, my past still had its claws in me, dragging me back. 

After running off to Chicago, thinking I could start a new life, I had convinced myself that distance would erase my mistakes. That a fresh start would mean a fresh me. But reality had other plans.

Job after job, rejection after rejection—it was like the universe refused to let me move on. No matter how much I tried to prove I had changed, my past followed me like a shadow I couldn’t outrun. The mistakes I made, the choices I regretted, they were stamped onto my record like a permanent scar.

And now, here I was, back where I started. Empty-handed. Nothing to show for it.

Coming home wasn’t supposed to feel like failure. But standing here, drowning in disappointment, it was all I could feel.

Without even thinking, I tossed my phone onto the ground, the sound of it cracking against the pavement barely registering in my mind. My heart pounded as frustration and despair clawed at my chest. I needed an escape—something, anything to numb the sting of failure.

I got into my car and drove straight to the nearest bar. The neon lights blurred in my vision as I stumbled inside, already knowing exactly what I was here for. One drink turned into two, then three, then I lost count. The alcohol burned its way down my throat, dulling the pain, muting the thoughts that screamed at me about everything I had lost, everything I would never get back.

It didn’t take long before I was completely wasted. My limbs felt heavy, my mind hazy, but even in my drunken state, I knew I wasn’t ready to go home. Not yet. I needed more time, more distance from reality.

I staggered out into the night, fumbling through my purse for my car keys. My fingers barely worked, clumsy and slow, but I finally found them. Just as I was about to unlock the car, a firm hand grabbed my wrist.

“Mia, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

I blinked up at the blurry figure in front of me, my sluggish mind trying to process the voice. It took a second, but then it clicked.

“Emma?” I slurred.

She looked furious, her eyes flashing with something between anger and fear. “You’re drunk,” she stated, as if I didn’t already know.

I yanked my wrist free, swaying on my feet. “So what? I can handle myself.”

“Like hell you can.” She snatched my keys from my grasp before I could react.

“Give them back,” I demanded, but my voice came out weaker than I intended.

Emma shook her head. “No way. I’m not letting you drive like this.”

My head throbbed as I stumbled against my car. “Why do you care?”

Her expression softened just slightly. “Because you’re my sister, and I’m not about to let you throw your life away over one bad night.”

Something about the way she said it made my chest tighten. I wanted to fight back, to tell her to leave me alone, but I didn’t have the energy. The truth was, I was exhausted—exhausted from fighting, from trying, from hoping things could be different.

Emma sighed before looping my arm over her shoulder, steadying me. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t resist. As Emma carefully guided me to the car, I could feel the weight of everything pressing down on me—the mistakes, the failed attempts at redemption, the rejection. I didn’t deserve her kindness, but I didn’t know how to stop myself from clinging to it.

The ride back home was a blur. Emma’s voice was calm, trying to soothe me, but my mind was racing. I could barely stay awake, the alcohol still making my body feel heavy and numb. And then, just as I thought things might start to calm down, tragedy struck.

Out of nowhere, a car swerved into our lane, its headlights blinding me. Emma swerved to avoid it, but we hit the brakes too hard, and the car spun out of control. The sound of tires screeching against the asphalt was deafening, followed by a sickening thud as we slammed into a streetlight.

I don’t remember much after that. I remember the sharp jolt of impact, the airbag exploding in my face, and then... darkness.

When I woke up, I was disoriented, my head throbbing. My body ached, but nothing compared to the crushing weight in my chest. I tried to move, but something was holding me down. My eyes flickered around, taking in the sight of shattered glass, twisted metal, and the remnants of the car. It was all too much.

And then I saw her. Emma.

She was slumped against the steering wheel, her body lifeless.

I screamed. My heart broke, and the pain was almost unbearable. The one person who had always been there for me, who had never given up on me, was gone.

I didn’t know what to do. I fumbled for my phone, trembling as I dialed 911. My voice was unrecognizable, cracked with fear and guilt.

“Please… please help… my sister… she’s... she’s...”

I couldn’t finish the sentence. The words wouldn’t come. It didn’t feel real.

Somehow, I survived. But in the back of my mind, I knew I was never going to be the same. I had survived a crash, but I didn’t know how I would ever survive losing Emma.