Title: The Symbols 

Author: Moxie

Disclaimer: Is it really necessary.

Summary: Miranda's home life, the way I've shaped it up.

Author's note: I'd really appreciate some feedback on this b/c I've really only seen on episode of "Lizzie McGuire" and I'm presumptuous to assume this is how they are, but if I made any mistakes, I'd like to know what they are.


Round and round, in and out. Round and round.

My eyes are glued to the comforter on the bed. My mom's favorite one, sprawled across my bed. My body was set on top of it, my hands out in front of me. I stared hard at the faint swirls of flowers dancing around the petals. I touched the swirls with the tips of my index finger and followed them in their pattern.

Round and round, in and out. Round-

The flowers weren't helping. It had become harder to ignore them. I could hear him yelling. His voice was trembling, but filled with anger: for her. She was sobbing, trying vainly to yell back. I traced the swirls faster. She sobbed louder, and my heart wrenched. The swirls are blotches now and my traces of easy lines are jagged and zigzagged.  One more jagged line was traced when I heard the shatter of sharp glass below me. I was blinking fast, concentrating on the swirls. There were vibrations from the screams. My head was swimming. Blindly grasping for the swirls.

Zoom and out, round and in.


She screamed and I stopped blinking. It wasn't a yell-a cry-a sob. She screamed and there were no more vibrations. There was no more yelling. There were no more tears. I drew back my hand from the sheet like it suddenly blazed with a heat I couldn't handle. I got up from the comforter. I turned from the swirls and slowly opened my bedroom door, heading down the hall and down the stairs, needing to see why there were no more sounds. I headed for the first step on the top when I heard a slam thunder through the house and my feet when faster. I called for them but there was only silence. I reached the bottom step and I heard it. There was the sobbing. I saw it. There was the broken glass: the carved bird. It lay there broken and shattered by the argument, waiting for an end in the silence, for some motion. By it she sat. My mother huddled on the floor alone by the bird that once proclaimed their love.

"Mom…" My voice was raspy and dry.

She slowly met my eyes. Her eyes were red rimmed and tears still lingered in them, giving her eyes a melancholy glow. She seemed lost looking up at me with no hope in her brown orbs. She looked pale and forgotten, but she forced a smile. "Go back up stairs, Miranda."

I shook my head. "Mom…" She cast her eyes back down and slowly took herself from the floor. I called her again and she ignored me and continued upstairs.

I looked back at the bird and realized all my blinking hadn't helped much. The tears from eyes spilled over the rims and I sank down by the bird and waited.