Empty Window (Old Version)

A simple piece of flash fiction I've been wanting to write for days now. Finally managed to get it down on paper. Any suggestions for improvements are welcome! Right now, I'm storing up suggestions before I move on to draft 2.

 Please don't give me 3 stars while telling me it's great. I wan't to make it better, so if you rate below 5, please tell me why. Constructive criticism greatly appreciated (and I won't take offense). As this is a more emotional/psychological work, personal opinions and impressions are appreciated as well. Thanks in advance!

The woman sits motionless before me in a wooden chair. She is quiet, as always. The stillness echoes off the walls. "Don't you have anything to say?" I press her. She won't respond. Impatient, I cross to her and shake her fragile frame. Her eyes turn to me - her attention belongs to me.

It is raining again. No, pouring. The window tells me nothing more. The only view it can offer is one of flat, grey surfaces. It's a cold and unpleasant portal. I glare at it, resenting its inability.

"Say something. I don't like the quiet." True, but today it's more quiet than usual. The silence is so loud it hurts. Still she stares, and I secretly despise that look in her eye. She opens her thin lips as though to speak, but no words come. She has thought better of it, and perhaps she is right. Still, I want so badly to know what she is thinking. Her dark eyes hide a story.

She smiles at me now, her white teeth glinting menacingly between her slightly parted, dry lips. The corners split from the effort.

I am screaming at her now, but I know she won't listen to me.

Still she smiles. Still she hides her knowledge from me. That silent grin is her mask. Always quiet; always knowing.

The door creaks open. Our conversation has ended without beginning.

"You can come out now."

I stand, the legs of my chair scratching unpleasantly against the cement floor, and follow the sound of the voice. The room is empty now, and the rain continues.