I have learned now that while those who speak about one's miseries usually hurt, those who keep silent hurt more.

-C.S. Lewis

Sea green eyes followed the crystal water droplet as it trickled down the leaf and off the edge of the balcony, down onto the watery street below.

People hurried below, crumpling up magazines to shield the rain from their eyes and others were ducking under bits of tarp that had been thrown decoratively to attract customers. Even more were shaking open umbrellas and cramming as many as three people under.

But the one thing she noticed above all else about these people, the one thing that really stood out, was that they were all going about their day. Laughing, smiling, yelling at the clouds, eating their snacks, life went on for them all down below her and far away. It was strangely distant, like something you could see but never touch.

She like how calm it was here. Calm and quiet.

Inhale, exhale, the silent rush through her chest soothes her and the hum of the drizzle calmed her like a lullaby. The leaves on the flower rustled with a small gust that whistled as it went over her balcony and the others. It was quiet and the pretty noises came out because of it. Sakura had learned to listen, and to appreciate it.

She watched another water droplet move one, plinking onto the balcony deck and she felt envious for a second. The flash of emotion startled her, and her nails sunk into her palms. The water took on a pink tint but soon faded back to its clear color. She saw her reflection in the puddle by the corner of the flower pot and for a second she didn't recognize herself.

Eyes that were just as runny as the water and darkened pink hair limp and scraggly, she snapped her open palm into the puddle, shattering it into a million little slivers all over the deck. Harsh pants left her and crystallized in the cool air. She hadn't even noticed it had gotten cooler.

The rain picked up. Drops fell thick and fast and uncaring like fat bumblebees all around her and the white noise rose up from the street. She rocked on her knees and sat heavily on her backside, not caring if she got it wet. She schooled her expression to be blank. Like the paper in her notebooks.

Like his eyes.

"Sakura." Her mother called softly. Her mother looked sick, with dark rings under her eyes and dirty hair. Her throat hitched before she swallowed heavily and called again.

"Sakura...It's raining" Her mother said. For a moment she had wanted to jump up a scream, cause she knew that. She had been sitting out here since-

…

Since…

Her stomach rumbled.

Her mother pursed her lips into a thin line and Sakura thought she was mad. But her shining eyes said something else. The big bang in her face shifted, blocking her expression from view.

"Come inside, honey. Dinners ready." Mebuki said in a tight voice.

All the fight drained out of her and she lifted herself up with damp palms, futilely trying to brush the water off her pants. Her mother tried to start a conversation with her over the food. The food, she had noticed, wasn't as good as it used to be and her mother kept trailing off mid sentence, head lolling to the side. The rain picked up, lashing against the glass and she was almost gleeful when it startled her mother awake.

Her lip curled as she looked down at the plain rice on her plate. It seemed to taunt her like the mean kids at school. There was so much of it and as she contemplated eating it so her mother wouldn't cry her mind flash to how her stomach and thighs would look if she did. Her fist tightened on the chopsticks.

It was all her fault. She should have been nicer.

Her mother cleared her throat and shook her head, blinking slowly.

"Sorry Sakura." Her mother said. She looked as if she wanted to elaborate on her exhaustion, but bit down on the food. There were two plates here, and that felt wrong to Sakura. There was a round place where his plate used to rest that was more polished and less worn than the wood around it. A hole.

Three sharp knocks rattled the door and her mother. Mebuki dropped her chopsticks, before using her shaking hands to smooth out the wrinkles in her shirt. When she left the kitchen to answer Sakura stood up and ran on stiff legs into the kitchen and opened the dishwasher. The plate wasn't in there. It was always in there.

Her mind spun. Where was it! His plate, where was It?!

She yanked open drawers only to find them without what she was looking for. Frantically she ran to the cabinets in the back of the kitchen, only pausing for a second before slowly opening the door.

One a pretty ceramic plate, there was a dried rose. On another was a gift of expensive perfume. The third had pure white lace wrapped into an airy ball. Thing precious to her mother.

In the very back laid the plate. It was big and round with a pretty blue at the ends and seemed to fit in with all the other pretty things she saw. Sakura leant into the abyss and grabbed it, then tip toed back as quickly as she could.

Her mother's strained voice reached her ears, but Sakura ignored it, intent on her mission to put the plate perfectly in place. With a 'chink' she placed it over the circle of wood. Then scooted it a little to the left.

It still wasn't right.

"Yes, I know-" Her mother said.

An angry male voice cut her off, speaking in a harsh croak that made Sakura tuck her head in between her knees. It must be the landlord

"It's six weeks overdue-!"

"I know."

"Look, Mrs. Haruno, I know you're trying and working around the clock, and that you and your daughter are grieving-"

Sakura stood up and fled to the back of the kitchen to escape the noise, she hated noise, and heaved the pot of food off the stove. She carried it over to the table and scooped out the rice onto the blue lined plate. And scooped and scooped and scooped, not paying any attention to the rice spilling over onto the floor. She filled up the plate and then some, before hauling the pot back to the stove.

She took the food off of her plate and put it on his. She didn't want it. She didn't need it.

She sat back down and heard her mother closed the door. She must have lent her forehead against it because Sakura heard the hinges squeak. A deep, shaky sigh echoed through the eerie-wonderful-silence and her mother walked into the kitchen. She stopped in her tracks when she saw the plate in between theirs, the blood draining from her face and a horrified gasp escaping her. Her eyes follow the trail of spilled rice before she snapped.

"NO Sakura! No! We can't waste food!" Her mother shouted.

And there was too much noise. Too much noise and she didn't like it. She clamped her hands over her ears and gritted her teeth-not a sound escaping her. She rocked back and forth almost violently flinging her body.

Hands gripped her shoulders.

"Sakura..." Her mother's voice cracked, but it didn't seem like the only thing that was broken. Not being able to say anything else her mother brought out the broom and swept the rice onto a pile, lips turned down harshly in the way lips did when trying not to cry.

A rattle echoed through the house, bounding off walls as her mother dropped the broom. Her mother's eyes bulged and she stumbled to the bathroom and slammed the door open so it cracked harshly against the wall. The terrible sound of someone throwing up into the toilet bowl reached her ears. Sakura flinched and covered her ears.

Tears pricked the corner of her eyes. Sakura wanted to go up and help so she crept towards the door and peeked in to see her mother now sitting on the floor in the same position Sakura was in before. Her head between her knees. She croaked and drank water from the sink before speaking tiredly.

"Finish up and go to bed, Sakura. You have the academy tomorrow." They spent the rest of the night in silence, the third plate sitting between them.

Sakura thought it would have filled the space the hole that was there.

It only made it worse.

"Goodnight Sakura." Her mother called back softly. Hopefully, in a voice horse from vomiting and stress. Her eyes were green like Sakura's, except darker, and now duller with stress. It didn't stop the hope from shining through.

Sakura went to bed without saying a single word for the seventh month in a row.