The explosion of quietness that hit her as she stepped into the house was disturbing, fearsome in its unknown quality. There seemed to be a shrill ring of a siren in the air, a warning, as she stepped through the doorway into what had been her home.

Had been, she reminded herself. And will never be again.

It had not been possible to cry less at her parents' funeral, and now she was alone.

Alone, except for a half-present aunt who tried to be around but had a life of her own to live. A life that had not included the care of her sixteen year old niece. Sometimes, especially when Sarah was in a rebellious mood and not feeling charitable enough to be civil, she wondered from the exasperation in her aunt's eyes if Florence resented her sister for dying and leaving her with an uncompliant teenager.

Not that Sarah cared anyway, what Florence thought. Not much. So many things had seemed trivial after the crash; so many things had changed that the tiny details of life no longer seemed worthy of note. Like the way her grades had plummeted, and the way her friends were shying away from her sharp-edged retorts and sarcastic comments.

They wanted to be there for her, tried to be understanding, but they didn't know how. They did not know the all-encompassing grief that engulfed her whenever she remembered her parents, the times they went for picnics at the beach, dinner at restaurants, or a holiday to Hong Kong. In death her parents were perfect, all traces of arguments gone, living saints in her mind's eye.

There could be no one to replace them, especially not her aunt, who had little tolerance for feelings other than her own and didn't know how to handle an emotionally unstable teenager.

"You should be glad that there's someone left to take care of you," she had shouted at the door that Sarah had shut in her face, as Sarah bit her lip and tears had washed her face anew. There could be no forgiveness after that, no hint of goodwill left in her bleeding heart to accept the blunt and clumsy love that Florence offered.

That was why she was back, in an empty house full of memories, of childhood innocence and adolecent regrets.

The sense of quiet was deep, sharp and yawning, like a dark sea that threatened to pull her in and drown her in its heaviness. She was alone, desperately so.

"I am alone now," she announced into the cool still air. There could be no response, only the lavender scent of air-freshener and books that reminded her of times that seemed long ago,that she had lost and could never find again.