On the day the ticking time bomb inside her head finally exploded, no one heard a thing. It was just heavy silence. The kind akin to ignorance. A displace feeling, lost in a moment.
The first one to notice was her mother. It was exactly a week later. On a Sunday, she was supposed to be in a church praying. She was nowhere to be found. It was not her first time missing church.
They posted her pictures on empty walls. They started looking for a path of breadcrumbs on familiar grounds. Trying to figure out the direction of the last step she took.
No one noticed the trail of smoke. The embers crackling. There was no bang no boom. No earth-shattering-quake. What only left is a mess. What happen here, wonder all the people who knew her name.
A year later they found her inside her bedroom. The aftermath of the explosion not visible to the naked eye, she sat still. In the silence her mother ask, "What happen to you?". She could not give them an answer. Instead her eyes tried to answer them what her tongue could not. She cried and cried until her lungs run out of air. Still no one can guess what happened here.