"Hello, My name is Doctor Anna," The blonde-haired therapist said, smiling proudly, "What is your name?"

This room was smaller than the others. The small space only had room for two medium size couches, a glass table, and a desk in the corner. Everything in the room was expensive, and seemed to be made out of the best materials. The large windows were opened, but the air still felt thin.

Doctor Anna's smile fluttered as the girl in front of her failed to answer the simple question. The therapist had heard rumors about the silent child, but as she watched her close, she didn't see anything suspicious. The girl, Avalon DeForest, had only turned six a couple days ago. Her light brown hair was falling in front of her young face. Her head hadn't lifted since she had entered the room, and she still didn't know what color her eyes were. Doctor Anna's stomach curled as the silence continued to drag on.

Finally, a voice filled the room.

"Her name is Avalon," Co-Sheriff Quentin DeForest answered before turning to his daughter, "You're going to answer the nice lady's questions, aren't you?"

Avalon nodded her head slowly, her thoughts taking her far away from the air-thinning room.

Doctor Anna eyed the father, waiting for approval, which he gave her quickly. Mr. DeForest crossed his arms over his muscular chest, his stance intimating to the young therapist. His blue eyes were filled with judgement, but not towards the blonde-haired worker.

A beat of silence flew through the room until Doctor Anna started with the appointment. The glass table separated the six year old and the therapist. On the table, there was a white, half-empty coffee mug and a stack of papers. Most of them were crumpled and ripped, and the sound of the crinkling paper made Avalon flinch.

"Avalon, you just turned six, right?"

Avalon nodded slowly.

"Answer in words, Avalon," Quentin scolded strictly.

"Yes, ma'am," Avalon mumbled, her voice hoarse and dry.

Doctor Anna continued to smile, "You can call me Anna, and did you have a nice birthday?"

"Not really," Avalon answered, her voice scratching lightly.

"Why is that?"

The young child didn't answer the question, her eyes staring at the grey hardwood floor. Her body was tense, and her head seemed to be shaking on her knee. Avalon was breathing deeply, and her shoulder fell forward after every breath. A light tapping from the girl's fancy black shoes echoed off of the walls. The fidgeting was always even, and never broke rhythm.

Doctor Anna looked at the father for approval again, and she continued, "Is this the reason why you draw these pictures?"

The thick color of black filled all of the crumbled pages, and Doctor Anna's blue eyes widened slightly when she got a good look at the child's drawings. Each picture was filled with children, drawn as stick figures. Most of the children were smiling, laughing, but one seemed miserable. One of the children was screaming, and putting their hands over their ears.
And in the sky, there were faces. Each of them had an angry face.

Even though the drawing looked like it was drawn by a young child, the emotions of the horiffed girl seemed to scream out. The tapping of Avalon's shoes got louder.

"Why did you draw these Avalon?" Doctor Anna asked again.

"Because they were bad again," Avalon mumbled, her fingernails digging into her black leggings.

"What got bad again?"

"The voices."

Doctor Anna and Mr. DeForest shared a glance, and in the gesture, an uncomfort seemed to flow through them. Listening to the even tapping, Doctor Anna took a light sip of cold coffee. The white mug clattered lightly against the coster when the therapist sat the cup down.

"When did you start hearing these voices?" Doctor Anna asked.

Avalon gulped, "A year ago."

"When?"

"I don't remember," Avalon answered quickly.

"What were they saying to you?" The therapist asked.

Avalon's nails continued to dig into her knee, "I don't know. I couldn't make out any words."

Doctor Anna leaned forward, resting her head on her hands. "Why were they bad?"

"Um--" Avalon stumbled, her voice cracking lightly. Tension was growing in her stance, and the fidgeting of her body was getting worse. Her nails were breaking through the fabric, both her legs were bouncing in a harmonizing rhythm, and her small body was trembling. The shaking had gotten worse when she had memorized the voices.

The therapist moved her hand out to touch the anxious girl, but Avalon immediately jumped away from her. She finally raised her head, eyeing Doctor Anna's outstretched hand. Her eyes were a light brown, just like her hair, but the emotion of fear was raw in the mix of hazel colors.

Doctor Anna moved her hand away, and said, "It's okay, Avalon. I promise that it is okay to talk to me. I am here to help, not to scare you."

Mr. DeForest finally moved from his invisible stance, and came to stand behind the couch. He placed his large hand on his trembling daughter's shoulder. The touch of her father didn't calm the girl down, but when he scolded her to calm down, Avalon was quick to pull herself together.

"Explain the voice to Doctor Anna," Mr. DeForest said, "Explain them like you did to your mother."

Avalon took a deep breath, "Most of the time, the voices are light. I can barely hear them. But some days, like on my birthday, they are loud. They scream at me."

"Why are they screaming at you?"

"They are trying to warn me," Avalon said, "But they can't make up the words."

"Do you hear the voices today," Doctor Anna asked.

Avalon nodded, eyeing her father and the therapist nervously.

"Is it same or different?"

"Different."

The word sent shock to both the therapist and officer's face. Avalon seemed to notice the change in expression because the tapping of her feet started speeding up. Her hazel eyes were far away, and it seemed like she was listening to something. Listen to something that was only inside the six-year-old girl's head.

"What are they saying?"

"That someone is going to die."

~~~

A piano was playing perfectly in the biggest house in Beacon Hills. The keys playing the melody of Amazing Grace. The beautiful song moved the emptiness out of the large modern house. The harmony moving soundlessly alongside the wind that came through the opened windows. The mesmerizing music could bring tears to anyone's eyes.

There were only two people in the DeForest after sundown. Avalon DeForest, who was playing the beautiful piece on the large grand piano in the living room, and the nanny, who was swaying with the sound of the pressing keys.

They both had their eyes closed, lost in the music of the piano.

But suddenly, the gorgeous melody came to a stop. Once the music died away, everything seemed to snap back to reality. The dust settled back to it's normal places, and the wind sounded restless as it slammed against the house. SIlence filled the empty house again, and the loss of sound focused your brain to wake up again.

"Why did you stop?" the Nanny asked, opening her eyes. Her eyes fell on the small girl behind the piano to see that she was staring at the pages laying in front of her. Avalon was wearing a sour expression, and she grabbed the pen out of her hair. She scribbled some notes on the white paper in her sloggy six year old writing.

"I did something wrong," Avalon answered, her eyes traveling over the page.

The Nanny sat down on the couch, "I thought that it was beautiful."

"But it's still not good enough," Avalon mumbled.

"Remember what your therapist said, Avalon," the Nanny said, "You can't put too much pressure on herself."

The girl ignored the adult, and started playing again. She started in the mid-section, in the place where she always kept making mistakes. Avalon didn't close her eyes, or move along with the harmony, instead she watched her notes and paid attention to the corrections.

The song wasn't as graceful when Avalon thought about it too much. The song seemed planned out and stiff. The wind and the melody mixed in an unpleasant way, and choppiness didn't bring happy tears to anyone's eyes. The Nanny, who loved the popular piano piece, didn't move a muscle as Avalon went through the piece, correcting the smallest things possible.

Avalon started losing herself in the keys once she got to the end, which she had memorized. Her hazel eyes closed, and her fingers moved without a command. The perfection filled the living room as the notes got lower and the tempo speeded up slightly. Her body seemed to sink away, and fall into an abyss of music. The abyss was welcoming, and everything felt light as darkness overtook everything.

Avalon stuck the last cord, and her eyes immediately flew up. Her hazel eyes filled with horror and panic. Her body started trembling, and tears were already starting to form in her eyes. The Nanny was over to her in seconds, worry written deep in the lines of her face. The Nanny was called out, and shook the panicked six-year-olds shoulder, but the girl didn't respond to the fear.

Eventually, the girl screamed. A curling, bloody-murder, bone rattling scream. The scream shook everything in the house, and overtook the sound of the slamming wind.

Avalon continued screaming until her throat was raw.

~~~

Red and blue lights were flashing in front of the largest house in Beacon Hills. The crowd of neighbors had finally disappeared, concern and worry written over everyone's faces. The sheriff's department had broken apart once the screaming had finally come to an end.

It ended after two hours. The six-year-old had screamed for two hours without stopping.

Now four people were inside the DeForest House. Avalon DeForest, who was healthing her raw throat with a glass of water. The Nanny, who had explained the story over and over again to anyone who asked. Sheriff Stilinski, who was here to support his distressed friend and question the two individuals. And lastly, Mr. DeForest, who hadn't stopped screaming complaints and orders since he had returned to his large house.

The three adults were all staring at the six-year-old girl, waiting for the right moment to ask the child about what happened. It had been almost thirty minutes since the loud, blood-curling noise had stopped, and they just continued to glance at each other. Speaking through their eyes instead of their mouths.

Avalon took another small sip of water before setting it down on the coffee table. She tapped her foot, and watched it closely as it moved up and down. Avalon's body was still tense, and her hands were the only part of her that was still trembling. Her breathing was uneven, and every couple seconds, she struggled to take a breath.

But she took a breath, and said, "Something happened."

The sound of the raw girl's voice sent shivers through the three adults' backs. Goosebumps appeared across the Nanny's exposed arms, and her uncomfortable expression deepened. The two officers leaned forward, their ears pierced with curiosity. Tension hung in the room between the four people before someone raised their voice, it happened to be her father.

"What happened, Avalon," Mr. DeForest said, "You can trust me."

"Something happened at the station," Avalon mumbled, ignoring her father.

Mr. DeForest and Sheriff Stilinski looked at each other, confusion written on their faces. Memories flashing in front of their eyes, but they blinked, ignoring their thoughts. The two men turned back to the young girl, eyeing her with some suspicion. Sheriff Stilinski's eyes were filled with more sympathy then Mr. DeForests.

"Yes, something did happen at the station," Mr. DeForest said slowly, "We were called away tonight. A car crash happened, a mother and her two daughters were killed."

"Malia Tate is not dead," Avalon tells her father, "She's alive, and hiding right under your noses.