We had started off that Monday with rain. The sky poured down across the sea of people moving within the streets. My brother had just smiled. He had laughed and started to make his way through the masses, while I followed closely. The rain followed him as we walked down the streets. The sounds of vehicles had become vibrant alongside his laughter, as did the sounds of people and their lives. The stores we passed with brightly lit signs and invitations of warmth became a blur – as did the concrete barricades, decorated brightly with unique features on each. He had joyously floated through crowds leaving a path of smiles in his wake.

But today was not that Monday.

That Monday we had sat at our train station. It was quiet. The roads were still in a slumber, whilst the street lamps almost finished their shifts. My brother had wanted to catch the first train out, so his day could last. The trees were the only thing moving as they fluttered around. He was talking about the day to come; his excitement had kept me awake enough to hear the horn of our train – the warnings over the speakers weren't loud enough as they had been broken for months.

It was now Friday. I walked on cold floors with bare feet. The rooms lacked feeling and had lost their sense of brilliance. I continued my walk as the cold floors no longer chilled my spine. Whispers of my family floated around my head and bounced off its walls. They had turned on the radio, as if to fill the void that sat between us – it didn't, it just reminded us of why it was there. No one's eyes would meet. it wasn't the same quiet as that Monday.

On the Monday I had discovered how quiet the city could be. I had followed him through the gardens he adored, I watched his eyes wander across the landscape. An orchestra of unmatched melodies constructed themselves around us, drowning the faint sounds of running motors and turning wheels. It was quiet. My brother spouted off his innate sense of botanical knowledge as we passed statues that stood tall and proud, overlooking our path.

'you need to move on'. They had said. 'there are some possibilities our brains cannot except, but you have to get along with your life.' I didn't know how to do that. How can you move on from something so destructive that it intrudes every thought that runs through your mind? I couldn't walk the streets without thinking how the light posts dim, I could not look at children smiling without thinking about his smiles, I couldn't see the world with the inability to cry.

He had wanted to visit the library that day. We walked there together while we continued the same dynamics we had at the train station. He blurted out anything that had come to mind as we walked, like the fact that Boston ivy was growing throughout the gardens in the city or how the library was next door to a train station. I just smiled and listened as he went on to talk, not noticing the way the rain poured around us – or how the police had plastered signs up across the street.

I left my house. It was the first time in a week that I had voluntarily left my house – this doesn't mean to say that I had involuntarily left the house at all – and walked down our street. It was loud outside. People were everywhere, mindlessly moving to destinations of no importance, creating chatter and beats made of footsteps. Orchestras I had heard before were now a jumble of madness that created an uncomfortable screech. It was still better than the quiet.

I moved slowly trying to avoid the stares of pity and accusations that followed me, as their whispers formed fables of what had happened on that Monday. I crossed through the crowds, unconsciously avoiding being hit by the herds of people running from all directions and moved towards my destination.

We had stopped at a small café that Monday and ordered. The atmosphere of the café provided was calm, nothing quite stood out as everything seemed together – this distracted us from the radio as it talked of politics and terror attacks. My brother for the first time during our trip was quiet. He stared out the window with a simple smile on his face, almost as if he was humbled just to be there. He had thanked the waitress when she served our food and then ate with a consideration. It was almost as if he had just taken a moment to appreciate the world, even if it were only for a few minutes.

I made my way slowly down a side street. It seemed worn and overused, rather than its reality. The sun shone down against me and followed me as I descended further into the silent street. It was alleviating as I felt the stares of judgement slowly disappear with each step. I passed windows with cages and doorways that were indented into the small buildings, each painted in various shades of white with Boston ivy vines clinging to its walls. The sight of the green leaves struck me. I quickly continued my walk.

When I arrived, it was busier than I had expected, it wasn't quiet in the slightest; yet you could not call the room loud. It was content. People within the room were talking to one another, as if they were friends and not mere acquaintances, as if it was normal to have meetings like this when rather they were extremely obscure. I felt out of place as I walked to the reception desk.

'hello there, are you here for the session or is there something I can help you with?' the lady queried. She had a soft smile as I replied that I was there for the 2 o'clock session, and then she led me to the room. Our walk was quiet, neither of us spoke but I'm sure she knew I appreciated the fact that I hadn't been stared at with any judgement or pity, but maybe she didn't. We arrived, and I quietly thanked her before she left.

It was quiet, in that café, on that Monday. It was quiet. We had left the café and made our way down to the busiest area within our city. The rain that was pouring had now disintegrated into light sprays and we stood together, at the steps and watched. A man stood a few meters away and slowly took off his jacket – I didn't notice this, but my brother did. The man screamed, and our world became a blur as my brother pushed me down and covered me. Lights flashed, a large blast knocked my brother, and everything stopped for that single millisecond. It was quiet - then the screams began.

I walked into the room and sat down. Others joined and sat in the circle with us, until the circle had connected. The group began as the counsellor walked in. Eyes flittered around the room as he started, he then stopped and waited patiently for us to start.

It was quiet.

Then I spoke.