Unspoken Words by Olivia Salter / Quintale Story / Psychological

 

Unspoken Words

By Olivia Salter

Word Count: 454

The letter arrived with no return address, and I knew exactly who had sent it. It felt like an intrusion, cold and heavy, as though it had been waiting in the shadows, a piece of the past forcing its way into the present. My fingers shook as I tore the seal, the silence hanging thick in the air. I unfolded the paper, the edges crisp and fragile as if it might crumble in my hands.

"You never asked me to stay. But I never wanted to leave."

Charlotte. My sister. The one who had disappeared a year ago, vanishing without a trace. The police had chalked it up to her running away, but I knew better. Charlotte didn’t run. She left. And I never asked why. I never asked what had made her leave, never asked the question that would have shattered the silence she left behind. Fear had kept me quiet. Afraid of what I might find if I dug too deep.

I read the words again, the ink blurring slightly through my sudden tears. Her absence had been an ache I buried deep inside, something I could ignore for a time, but never forget. I thought I had moved on—thought I could go through life pretending the laughter we shared, chasing each other through the woods behind the house, hadn’t happened. The scent of pine, the damp earth, the way the air felt alive when we were together. But I was wrong. The pain never truly left. And now, these words pulled me back. She was still here. Somehow, she was still here.

"I’m waiting for you."

The letter slipped from my hands, the paper fluttering to the floor. My chest tightened, a cold fist gripping my heart. The house by the lake—our secret place—surged back into my mind, its dark silhouette standing at the edge of the woods. I could almost hear our voices, laughing in the hallways, daring each other to go deeper into the house, a place no one had dared enter for years. But now, it stood in my memory, broken and forgotten, its windows like hollow eyes that had seen too much.

I turned away from the door, my feet moving before my mind could catch up. Fear whispered, doubts tugged at me, and the sharp sting of guilt gnawed at the edges of my mind. I had failed to ask her to stay, failed to ask why she left. But now, there was no turning back. I didn’t know what I’d find when I got there, or if it was truly her waiting, but I knew I had to go. I couldn’t leave her waiting alone anymore. Not after everything we’d left unsaid.