Even the Walls Bite Their Tongues

The dining room was dead silent - except for the scrape of forks against plates and the occasional cough from Mr. Turner, whose voice always sounded like a dry sponge. The air smelled of sugar cookies and pity - a scent so sweet it turned your stomach.

Nobody dared to sit in Amelia’s empty chair.

Across the table, Liam stared at his untouched slice of cake, poking at it with his fork like a little kid who wouldn’t eat his peas.

In all my thirteen years of knowing him, I’d never seen him so quiet. Not that I blamed him - what was one supposed to talk about at their girlfriend’s funeral reception?

I could see Mrs. Hayes in the kitchen. I watched as she cried into a dish towel - the same one Amelia and I had once used as superhero capes when we were kids. My mom stood beside her, rubbing her back.

The whole thing made me sick.

All these strangers pretending they knew her. “She’s in a better place now,” they kept saying, their faces as empty as their words.

My best friend was dead. And even after a week, nobody could figure out how she died. That was the worst of it all.

I hadn’t been able to sleep since it happened - just drifted, half-awake, with a knot in my chest tightening every time I closed my eyes.

Grief is a funny thing - not funny ha-ha, but funny strange. Like, you never quite realized how much it quieted people until it hit you.

I stared at Liam as he scraped frosting off his slice of cake, his head drooping into his hand like he’d given up on pretending to care.

The silence was suffocating, almost eerie.

“Liam, you done with that?” I asked softly.

He looked up, his eyes red and glassy. “What?”

I pointed to his untouched slice of cake. “Can I have that?”

He slid the plate over to me without even looking up.

“I still can’t believe she’s gone,” he said, his voice hoarse and uneven.

I nodded. “Yeah,” I said, my mouth full of cake. “Me neither.” It made no sense - Amelia was healthy, happy. She had everything: a stunning home, a handsome boyfriend, great friends. What more could she need?

She could thank me for two of those things, though - the boyfriend and the friends.

We met on her first day of second grade. Liam and I had already been best friends since we were four, courtesy of Sunny Times preschool.

I remembered it like it had been just last week. She sat alone on the bench at recess; I walked over and asked if she wanted to play tag with Liam and me. That’s the day our trio was born - and for a while, it really was perfect.

At least until high school.

Turns out, it was true what they said: most guys who wanted to be your friend were just waiting for a chance to ask you out. Liam was no exception.

Except he didn’t want me.

He wanted Amelia.

Everyone wanted Amelia.

I should’ve seen it coming - the signs were all there. The way he walked her home every day, but only because “he owed her”. The teddy bear on Valentine’s Day he swore was part of a buy-one-get-one deal, as if that made it less romantic.

I knew I could never compete with her. Then again, how could anyone?

Amelia was one of those people who was effortlessly perfect. The platinum-blonde hair she was born with was the same shade others spent hundreds trying to copy. Her features were model-perfect: almond-green eyes, full lips, sharp cheekbones.

Liam would’ve been crazy not to like her.

The only time he ever offered to walk me home was the day before my birthday freshman year - the day he told me he had feelings for her.

I’ll admit, I was a little slow to catch on.

He kept going on and on about having a crush on someone he’s known forever - hell, for a second, I almost thought he was talking about me.

And then he said her name, and it all made sense. Of course it’s Amelia.

I remember telling him to “just go with his gut.” And that’s exactly what he did.

They officially became a couple on my birthday - October 26th, 2023.

Tomorrow would’ve been their two-year anniversary. But the universe had other plans. A day meant for celebrating love had become a never-ending sobfest.

“I’m gonna go… look around,” I said softly, taking a last bite of cake.

The rest of the house felt impossibly still. Even with over a hundred people downstairs, it was as if even the walls were biting their tongues.

I looked around for a familiar face, someone to anchor me, but the only eyes I recognized were from Amelia’s photograph - a framed yearbook picture above the fireplace.

I headed upstairs, where I knew I could be alone without looking like some kind of desperate loner.

I stepped inside Amelia’s room, and the air hit me first. It still smelled faintly of her perfume - a mixture of sweetness and warm vanilla. Everything was perfectly in its place; the familiarity of it all made my chest tighten.

Her bed was perfectly made, her desk organized like she’d never left. I felt a chill creep down my spine, almost as if she were standing right behind me, waiting for me to confess.

I dragged my fingers along the smooth surface of her desk until they caught on her journal. The leather cover was worn in the places she must have held it most.

I sat down on her bed and opened the journal slowly, flipping through the pages that smelled faintly of her.

My hand hesitated on the page of her last entry - October 17th - the day before she died.

“I wake up every day thankful for Piper. She’s the best friend I could ever ask for,” the page read.

I traced my fingers along the cursive ink, my heart pounding so loud I could nearly hear it.

I looked up and caught a glimpse of my reflection in her mirror.

Not your best look, Piper, I thought to myself.

My hair had apparently forgotten it was straightened this morning, frizz shooting in every direction. My mascara was smudged around my eyes, which at least drew attention away from the dark circles carved beneath them.

My eyes met my own - wide and restless - but something in them didn’t belong to me.

My chest tightened like a knot, and for a moment, I was convinced she was there, silently watching me read her journal, waiting for me to just admit it.

“Piper?”

Liam’s voice cut through the silence, low and cautious.

He stood in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets, his tie crooked.

“Liam. Hey,” I said, shutting the journal and setting it down behind me.

“Somehow I knew I’d find you here,” he said with a slight smirk as he plopped down next to me.

“Wow.” I watched as he scanned her room. “It feels…”

“Weird, right?”

Liam nodded. “It’s so quiet. She hated the quiet. She always had music on.”

I flashed a slight smile, picking at the dry skin on my thumb. “Yeah.”

“It’s… weird,” I said finally, my voice small. “Not having her here.”

Liam nodded, staring down at his lap. “Yeah. It pisses me off that they still don’t know what happened.”

I swallowed hard. “Same… it makes no sense.”

“Like, she wasn’t sick. She was… good, I thought.” Liam’s voice was weak, like it was on its last life.

He glanced over at me.“What do you think happened? Honestly.”

I felt another twist in my stomach, the same knot I’d had all week. “I really don’t know. Maybe she… did it to herself?”

Liam stared at me, a confused look plastered across his face. “Suicide? No, that doesn’t make sense. There’s no way. They found her buried in the woods, I thought.”

I glanced down at my lap. “Right.” I shrugged. “I have no clue. It stresses me out, just thinking about it.”

Liam hesitated. “Me too. Sorry.”

A wave of silence came over us as we sat shoulder-to-shoulder, avoiding eye contact.

Finally, Liam cleared his throat. “You know, throughout all of this, I’m really glad I have you here, Piper,” he said with a slight smile.

I smiled back as I felt my cheeks begin to burn red. “Yeah. Me too.”

My heart skipped a beat as his gaze met mine. He looked at me - really looked - and I thought maybe he saw me instead of her.

The way the yellowish light of the room caught his eyes - his perfect, blue eyes - and the curve of his lips… I couldn’t stop myself.

Before I fully thought it through, I leaned closer and pressed my lips to his.

It was quick, soft - but it was enough to make him pull back sharply.

Liam jumped back, his eyes widened.

“What the hell, Piper?” His voice was low and startled, sharp enough to feel like I was stabbed in the stomach.

I froze, my heart hammering. “I… I thought - ”

Liam stood up abruptly. “You thought what?” he asked, still in disbelief. “You can’t just - ” He stopped, running a hand through his messy black hair. “You think this… this changes anything? She’s your best friend. How could you do this to her?”

“She’s not here, Liam. She’s gone. Forever.” I said softly.

“Who cares? It’s been a week, and this is how you cope with all of it? By kissing me?” Liam asked, his face painted red with anger.

“It’s not like I’m trying to replace her!” I snapped, the words bitter on my tongue.

Liam sighed in frustration as he stared at the ground, avoiding eye contact. He hesitated, like he was scared to say his next sentence.

“Good, because you never will.”

Ouch.

I shot up from the bed. “Liam, you don’t understand - you never have. I’ve always liked yo - ”

“Stop. Just stop.” Liam shook his head.

He stood there, staring at his feet, not saying a word.

“Liam, I - ”

Liam shook his head once again. “No, don’t.”

I could feel my eyes begin to fill with tears, my face burning. I wanted to scream at him, shove him, make him see me - make him realize that I’ve always been the one for him.

As much as I tried, I couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down my face.

Liam didn’t even look up. “I’m not doing this.” His voice was the lowest I’d ever heard it; it was almost scary.

All I could do was stare as he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

I sat back down on the edge of the bed, trembling, my lips tingling in all the wrong ways and my chest burning.

I glanced back down at Amelia’s journal; the tears welling in my eyes made it hard to see.

I wiped my face with my sleeve, my hand trembling. I opened the journal back up to the same page I was reading earlier, and my eyes caught a single line at the bottom of the page I’d missed before.

“The only thing is, I think Piper gets jealous sometimes. I wish she didn’t have to be that way.”

My breath was shaky as I exhaled, and my heart felt like it was going to burst out of my body.

A knock on the door startled me.

“Piper?” It was my mom’s voice this time, gentle and kind.

I slammed the journal shut once again and set it in my lap, my heartbeat still thudding in my ears.

“Yeah?” I called out, trying to sound like I hadn’t been crying.

The door creaked open, and she peeked her head in. “Hey, honey. We’re getting ready to go. You okay? You’ve been up here a while.”

I nodded quickly, wiping my face one last time. “Right. I’m okay, let’s go.”

The moment I stepped outside, the late October air hit me like a slap - sharp, cold, and uninvited. The kind of chill that seeps right through your clothes no matter how tightly you cross your arms.

The breeze curled past my ear, whispering Amelia’s name - proof that no matter how long I tried to outrun what happened, the guilt stayed glued to my ribs.

I buckled my seatbelt, shivering as I adjusted to the warmth of the car.

“Hey, I saw Liam and his dad kinda rush out earlier. Do you know if he’s okay?” Mom asked as she drove out of the neighborhood.

I shrugged, looking out the window. “No idea.”

When we got home, the house greeted us with silence - the same dark living room, still and untouched since this morning when we left.

I kicked off my black flats, which were leaving my toes blistered.

“I think I’m gonna go lie down.”

Mom nodded with a sweet smile. “Okay, sweetie.”

I ran upstairs and headed straight for my room. I couldn’t wait to take off this horrible black dress, which made my body look boxier than a refrigerator.

I changed into my favorite oversized t-shirt and some gray sweats from the hamper - they still smelled fine enough to last another day.

I plopped down on my bed with an exasperated sigh. I couldn’t stop thinking about Liam-and Amelia’s journal.

Was my jealousy really that obvious? I always thought I hid it well.

I scrolled through my photos, looking at all the selfies I had taken with her.

Her smile was always better, her teeth whiter and perfect.

Guys always noticed her first; she was the pretty one. I had the “good personality,” which basically just meant I was her worth-nothing sidekick.

I swallowed, which felt like a thousand nails in my throat. I could feel my eyes filling up with tears for what felt like the hundredth time today.

I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I never did.

I just couldn’t stand the thought of living in the shadows on yet another birthday, all eyes on her - like I didn’t even exist.

I just had to make sure it would never happen again.

I would be eighteen tomorrow, which officially marked around ten years of letting Amelia get all the attention - from everyone, all the time.

For once, I just wanted it to be me.

I must’ve been lying there for three hours, just staring at my phone, each scroll of a photo making my guilt grow more.

My stomach growled, which reminded me I hadn’t eaten since those stupid slices of cake.

I sighed and dragged myself off the bed and down to the kitchen.

Mom was sitting on the couch, in her usual spot. She had her reading glasses on and was probably deep into some cheesy romance book.

I opened the pantry and pulled out a bag of potato chips.

“Try not to fill up on chips!” Mom called out.“I’m about to start dinner.”

I shrugged, continuing to stuff my face like the bag was about to run away from me.

“Hello?” Mom’s voice sounded confused as she answered her phone. “Anne, hi! What’s going on?”

Anne. Anne Hayes - Amelia’s mom.

Oh no.

I walked over to the living room, bag of chips in hand, and sat down next to Mom.

“Put it on speaker,” I mouthed. “I wanna hear.”

“Cathy, I’m so sorry to call this late… I know you guys were just over,” Mrs. Hayes said through the phone speaker, her voice soft.

“No, don’t worry about that,” Mom said, picking at a fuzzball on the blanket. “Is everything okay?”

“Well… sort of.” Mrs. Hayes cleared her throat. “We just had two police officers come to the house. They found the cause of Amelia’s death.”

Mom and I looked at each other in shock.

My heart began to do that familiar racing feeling, and suddenly my potato chips didn’t taste so good.

I had been doing so well - nobody even thought to question me. Had I finally been caught?

“Oh my gosh… what did they say?” Mom asked, her eyes still wide.

Mrs. Hayes sniffled; she sounded like she was on the verge of tears.“It was murder, Cathy. Someone murdered my baby girl.”

Mom and I looked at each other in disbelief, like this was some kind of sick prank. “Oh my…” Mom was speechless; she covered her mouth in shock. “...Do they know who did it?”

Mrs. Hayes blew her nose, the sound echoing through the phone speaker. “Yes, that’s the good news.” Her voice began to come back stronger. “Some man named Dennis Hawthorne - a homeless man living in the woods.”

Mom shook her head in disbelief, her mouth still covered by her hand.

I took a deep breath, my exhale shaky.

Was this it? Was it all finally over?

I bolted upstairs, headed straight for my bedroom.

I slammed the door behind me and locked it.

I stood in front of my bathroom counter, huffing and puffing, my body trembling.

For a second, I didn’t even recognize the girl in the mirror staring back at me.

Her eyes looked lighter somehow - almost alive again.

For a week, I’d seen my reflection as guilty - haunted and fearful.

But now… it was something else entirely.

The girl in the mirror staring back at me was calm. Maybe even amused.

A tiny laugh slipped out before I could stop it - soft at first, then a little stronger.

It didn’t sound forced or nervous - just… real.

Like something I had been holding in for weeks had finally let go.

I pressed a hand over my mouth, trying to stop, but another laugh escaped anyway.

Soft. Breathless. Almost joyful.

The police had their guy.

The town had their story.

And me? I finally had my peace.