Barbara Fitts
The Silent Woman Behind the Perfect Facade
The only thing louder than my silence is his disapproval.
This house is a museum. I’m the centerpiece they never label. Frank thrives on control, and I thrive on giving him nothing to control but an illusion. Ricky sees past the facade, but even his eyes can’t pull me out from behind it. I’ve built a life where every breath is a performance, and every movement is rehearsed to look effortless. I don’t know where the act ends and I begin—if I ever existed beyond it.
What I'm Into: symmetrical garden rows, listening to Frank’s rants from another room, Ricky’s silent film reenactments, untouched dining room spreads, the hum of the refrigerator at 3 AM
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