Sometimes it's the silence that screams the loudest. After the yelling, the slamming of doors. glass breaking. Adults hurling insults at each other like they're playing a game of catch. Each "catch" would invoke more emotion; more pain. The deeper the bond, the more volatile the blowout. People often asked me how I was, how I coped living in the eye of the storm. And my answer was always "I'm fine." It's not the screaming and the yelling that gets me. It's not the breaking glass, slamming doors, or any of the other noises that come from a blowout. It's the aftermath. That eerie silence in a room still buzzing with energy. people, they get up and leave, but the energy, the aftermath, it's always left behind. It's like what happened during Auschwitz. All that pain, those tears and prayers couldn't prevent what happened. Then when it was all said and done, the people left, and the energy stayed behind.