Silent Desires (Shattered Silence Duet Book 1)
Silent Desires: Chapter 1

“If you don’t get your fat, worthless ass out here in the next five seconds, I swear to God, I will whip your hide so much you won’t be able to sit for a month!” I quickly rinse the toothpaste out of my mouth and rush out of the bathroom before my mother makes good on her promise. The moment she sees me, she grabs the front of my new white dress shirt and drags me to the front door, releasing me with so much force my shoulder slams into the wall.

“Those are yours.” She points to a pair of black Mary Janes as she puts her own pair of six-inch pumps on. I pick up the shoes and can’t stop myself from giving them a good look. They aren’t exactly pretty, but considering they’re the first pair of shoes I’ve had since I was six, I don’t really mind what they look like. I’m just glad to have them.

As soon as I start sliding my foot into them, I realize they are a good two sizes too large for me. I stand and try to walk, but my foot slips right out. I feel the sting from the slap on the back of my head before I even see her arm move.

“Stupid girl! You aren’t getting another pair, so stop trying to act like they won’t work. MAKE them work.” Or else seems to go without saying as she clenches her jaw, staring at me in anger. You think I’d be used to her hatred by now, but I still feel every insult and every hit deep in my soul. She’s my mother, she’s supposed to love me. Even if it is my fault she’s like this.

I follow her outside, shivering thanks to my new kilt and lack of tights or anything else to go underneath, doing more of a shuffle than actually lifting my feet. “Get in the back.” She points to the rear passenger door of her black honda accord. I think I’ve only been in this car a total of four times in the past few years. The move here, plus the three moves before it.

I get in and buckle my seatbelt as I think about our destination.

School.

Today has already been full of so many firsts and school will be the biggest one yet. When my mother came downstairs to see me last night and announced I would be starting school in-person the next day, I was beyond shocked. I had basically been locked in the basement since I was ten years old, outside of the occasional use of the bathroom to clean up.

I’m not sure how she’d got me accepted into college when I hadn’t even attended high school, but it’s not like I could question her. She had told me to be ready to leave at seven a.m. and handed me a set of clothes—a school uniform consisting of a white dress shirt two sizes too big, just like my new shoes, and a dark green tartan kilt that, thankfully, falls to two inches above my knees due to my short legs, keeping me modestly covered. She also gave me a tattered old backpack with nothing inside. I wondered if I would need anything else. I’d seen movies and tv shows when I was younger and remembered them having backpacks, but couldn’t remember what they actually put in them. Textbooks and binders seemed the most likely.

“Here, put this stuff in your bag.” She tosses over a plastic dollar store bag and I peek inside. Coloring books, pencil crayons and a sharpener. What are these for?

“Now listen to me closely. You need to keep your head down and your mouth shut, that shouldn’t be a problem for you,” she says with a snicker as she starts to drive. “This is the only time I will drive you, so I hope you’re paying attention to where we’re going so you can get home after school today. I’m giving you forty-five minutes to walk home, which is more than enough time. You won’t want to see what happens if you’re late.” She grinds out the last bit through clenched teeth.

My heart starts beating faster with the realization that I’ll have to replace my way back home. I don’t even know the name of our street. I quickly start paying attention to street signs and try to force myself to remember the turns. The drive takes about fifteen minutes, which feels like it will be a really long way to walk.

But as we pull into the parking lot, the walk home is no longer my biggest concern. In large letters across the front of the building reads McAdams High School. I stare at the building in confusion. Why are we at a high school? The building looks similar to high schools I used to see on tv. Not huge, not small, completely average. There are a few teenagers hanging around their cars in the parking lot, but it’s mostly quiet.

My mother parks and turns to face me. “Eyes down. Don’t interact with people. Don’t draw attention to yourself and don’t be late home. Let’s go.” As she turns, I watch her features change from hateful to pleasant, like she’s slipped on a mask.

I drag my feet behind the clicking of her heels as we head into the building, wishing I had a voice to ask why she is enrolling me in a high school when I’m twenty-one. I don’t have a high school diploma, so maybe I needed that before I could attend college.

She appears to be aware of our destination as she walks through the halls with full confidence. Meanwhile, I drag my feet behind her, stumbling over my too large shoes and trying to keep myself from being noticed. Luckily, the halls are quiet.

Eventually, we end up in what appears to be the main office. An older lady, who appears to be the receptionist, sits behind a desk with a short hallway off to the side that appears to lead to a few offices.

“Good morning, how can I help you?” she asks cheerfully.

Keeping my head down, I wait for my mother to reply. “I’m Helen Davies, I called yesterday about enrolling my daughter, Mina, she’s to start today.” Helen Davies? Why is she using a fake name?

“Mrs. Davies, yes, it’s nice to meet you! And you must be Mina, welcome to McAdams High.” She’s speaking to me, but my mother’s voice is ringing in my ears, reminding me to keep my eyes down. I fidget with the straps on my backpack silently.

My mother sighs. “I’m so sorry. Like I mentioned yesterday, she doesn’t like interacting with people.”

“No, no, don’t apologize. It’s quite alright, let me see if Mr. Hargrove is ready for you,” the woman responds and I watch her out of the corner of my eye as she stands and heads to the second door down the hall. She knocks, then a moment later, she opens it, pokes her head in, and has a few whispered words with the person inside. When she pulls her head back out, she motions for us to join her.

I follow my mother into the office, making sure to keep staring at my feet and not make eye contact with anyone. The door shuts behind me and the sudden noise makes me jump.

“Good morning ladies. Welcome to McAdams High, Mina,” a deep accented voice says from somewhere in the room. His voice reminds me of a British show I watched years ago. Does that mean this man is from England? I really, really want to look up and identify who that voice belongs to, but with my mother’s eyes on me, I know better. I have the scars to prove it.

Without lifting my head, I manage to take a quick peek at the room. There’s a large desk, which the man must be standing behind, and two chairs in front of it. My mother takes a seat in one of the two chairs, but I don’t dare move until instructed to do so. Besides, my mother would never allow me to sit on the same level as her. We are not equal. She constantly reminds me of that, telling me I’m trash and unworthy of her love. She is my superior and I know I need to listen to her or face the consequences.

“Please excuse her bad manners, Mr. Hargrove, like I said, she has a bit of an attitude problem.”

What attitude problem?

“I’m sure she’ll be fine, Mrs. Davies. I have her schedule all ready right here.” The sound of shuffling paper reaches my ears.

“Oh, Mr. Hargrove, I thought we spoke about this yesterday. She really doesn’t need all these classes. She’ll be lost in all of them, anyway, since she can’t read or write.” My mother seems uneasy about what he has shown her, but I’m still reeling over what she just told him. Does she really believe I’m illiterate? I haven’t been allowed to attend school since grade one, so she might really believe what she’s saying, and I wasn’t about to correct her. It could be to my advantage if I understand more than she realizes.

“All students at this school are placed in classes with other students. Otherwise, it can create socialization issues for them that could last their whole life.”

“Yes. Well, she already has those issues, so I don’t really see the need…”

“Isn’t that the reason you are enrolling her now? To help with her socialization? Regardless, it’s the way we do things here. All students are treated equally, you understand?” He says it as a question but doesn’t leave any room for her to argue.

She was sending me to high school to help with my socialization? Why now? And why high school and not college? None of this made any sense.

“Well, she has her coloring books in her bag so she can just sit in the back and play with those,” she replies primly. That’s why she gave me those books? If she doesn’t want me to learn, then why am I even here?

“If that’s all she can do, then that’s fine. Her teachers have all been informed of her condition.”

My condition?

“Does she have any other health requirements from her accident that we should know about? Any medication?”

What accident? The more they talk, the more confused I get.

“No, like I told you yesterday, the car accident took away her ability to speak, read, write, or do much of anything. She occasionally suffers from anger issues and aggressive episodes, but she is not medicated for it. If she acts up, you can just lock her in a room and call me.”

My heart beats rapidly in my chest. Why is my mother lying to him? I’ve never been in a car accident and I haven’t so much as lifted a finger towards my mother, even in self defense. It’s like she’s trying to make the school think I’m a troublemaker before I’ve even started.

“I’m sure it won’t come to that, Mrs. Davies,” Mr. Hargrove responds.

“Well, it looks like you have everything handled here, then. I’ll see you after school, Mina, don’t be late,” my mother says, giving my shoulder a hard squeeze that makes me internally wince as she passes and exits the office. Her words might sound sweet on the surface, but I know better.

The door clicks shut behind her, leaving me alone with Mr. Hargrove. I stare at the floor, letting the quiet settle around me. My stomach twists. I don’t want to be here.

“Mina, there is still a little time before class. Do you want to take a seat, and I can tell you about your schedule and what you can expect here?” His voice is calm, not demanding, but it still makes my chest tighten with worry. How could I survive here with being able to communicate?

I shuffle toward the chair slowly, my feet dragging like they’re weighed down with lead. Sitting feels like an effort, but I lower myself anyway, keeping my head down and clasping my hands tightly in my lap.

“Well, now, let’s see here,” he says, his tone a bit brighter. “You have math, science, art, and gym. Your mother says you have coloring books to keep you busy, and I will have another student help you replace your classes, sound good?”

I flinch slightly at the mention of coloring books. It’s humiliating, and I know she told him that to make me sound childish or incapable. My hand moves cautiously, reaching for the schedule he set on the desk in front of me. The paper feels rough between my fingers as I look it over, unsure of what I’m supposed to do with it. I nod my head quickly, a small motion, but enough to answer him.

He exhales, and I sense his relief. “Brilliant. You should also know I’m your guidance counselor, and you’re welcome to come see me anytime about anything. You understand?”

I don’t respond. My chest feels tight, like there’s a rope tied around it, and I can’t make myself nod or lift my head. I know it’s the start of a panic attack, and I try to take some deep breaths to calm myself.

“Mina, can you look at me, honey?”

The word catches me off guard. Honey? It feels strange, out of place, and it distracts me enough to help my breathing start to grow steady.

“Please, look at me, Mina,” he says again, softer this time. Slowly, I lift my head. My eyes meet his, and something flickers in his expression. It’s quick, but I catch it—a flash of surprise.

This man is breathtaking. I’ve never seen someone so attractive before. He has short wavy brown hair that looks soft to the touch, a strong jaw and beautiful hazel eyes. He’s wearing a light purple dress shirt with a dark purple tie and looks like the quintessential professor. His gaze feels heavy, and I drop my eyes to his desk, biting my lip nervously.

His desk is meticulously tidy. Everything is lined up parallel to each other, not an item out of place. I watch as he picks up a tall silver thermos and takes a drink from it before dropping my eyes again.

“Ahem. Right,” he says, clearing his throat. “Well, as I was saying, I’m your guidance counselor, and you can come talk to me about anything, okay, Mina? It could be about your classes, or problems with your peers, or even problems at home. You come to me, and I will help you. Do you understand?”

I nod, just once, a small movement that takes more effort than it should.

“Good girl,” he says, with a strange warmth in his voice. If the sound of his British accent isn’t already enough to make me swoon, hearing him say that does the job. I try not to show any outward emotion. It’s all I need for it to get back to my mother that I’m having any sort of reaction to my guidance counselor. If she knew, she may never let me leave the house again.

He clears his throat before speaking. “Alright, why don’t I show you to your first class?” He stands and passes me to open the door. I stand up and follow him through, shuffling my feet as I go in my giant shoes.

“Mina, I have a couple questions I need to ask you,” he says as he strides down the hall with precise, measured steps, his back straight and shoulders squared, exuding a quiet authority. “Please forgive me if my questions offend you in any way, but I need to make sure you are safe here. Do you know what a fire alarm sounds like?” I nod my head once. “Good, good, and you know what to do if you hear one? You get out of the building. Just follow the other students out,” he tells me as I nod.

“This is your math class. Mrs. Pinkins is your teacher.” He gestures in the classroom door. I look in and notice rows of desks, half full of students. A handful of them turn to look at me with curiosity. I shoot my gaze to the ground.

Dammit, dammit, dammit! Don’t make eye contact! I chastise myself as my breathing picks up.

God, there are so many students in there, I would have to walk past them to an empty desk and they would all be staring at me. My breath stutters and I start to gasp for air, placing my hand on my chest as I feel the beginning of a panic attack threatening to overtake me.

Mr. Hargrove leads me a few steps away, so I’m not standing in the classroom doorway anymore.

“Mina, you need to calm down, just take a deep breath for me. Come on now.” He tries to encourage me, but it doesn’t work. Darkness starts to cloud the corner of my vision. I suffer from panic attacks on a regular basis, living the way I do will do that to a person, but this one is particularly bad, and it’s been a while since I’ve passed out from one.

“Mina, look at me. Come on, honey…”

“Is she okay… shit!” a voice I don’t recognize says, and it’s the last thing I hear before everything goes black.