Hushed Willows To my favorite liar, to my favorite scar

dahlia had been positioned directly in front of her sister when the yelling began. the force of that shriek was powerful enough that her own eyes popped open. she could see little other than a pale smudge, but she saw it all the same. a squeal of her own bubbled up and pooled in what little of the empty air remained. delighted with her own sound — an unfortunate foreshadowing — she sought to drown out her sister's yelling with that of her own.