Page 4 of A Silence So Divine

As soon as I flip the paper back around, she nods her head vehemently.

Well, that’s not good.

My eyes go round and I write out another message as quickly as I can.

PLEASE DON’TI CAN HELP

My offer does little to soothe her and I realize I may be in over my head. I don’t want to involve Cecil, but I’ve never even talked to a girl, let alone one locked in an attic.

Thoughts bounce around in my head, dizzying me with stress. I watch helplessly as she crumples to the ground and brings her hands over her mouth. Hopefully she isn’t screaming, because I need more time to figure out a plan before my brother intervenes.

I don’t think shewantsto hurt me.

Grabbing another piece of paper, I scribble a new message and tap my foot to get her attention. When our eyes meet, her eyebrows raise on her forehead. I wave the paper.

CAN BRING FOOD AND WATER

Her head tilts, and I can tell she’s warring with herself. Sitting up on her knees, she crawls forward and points to my earlier message.

YOU HURT ME?

Her gaze is so desperate, so wild, that I find it easy to shake my head. It’s clear that she’s absolutely terrified. I would guess she’s early twenties, same as me, and I doubt she’s up here of her own free will. It’s possible that she’s dangerous and locked away for the safety of others. But with her knobby knees and trembling limbs, I have a hard time seeing her as a threat.

Her shoulders droop and she wipes her chin, leaving a smear of blood across her cheek. She’s filthy, but her raven hair doesn’t have a knot in it. Suppose that’s thanks to the hairbrush/murderweapon. Her nightgown is too short, but with how thin she is, it fits her chest and hips.

If she were less feral, she’d be pretty. Fair skin, light eyes, pink lips. Hauntingly beautiful. Right now she looks like a phantom come to life. I don’t believe in ghosts, but if she slipped through the floorboards, it would check out.

I feel her studying me, deciding if she should trust me. If she’s honest with herself, she’ll know she doesn’t have a choice.

After consideration, she nods once. I let out a relieved breath and try to conjure an encouraging smile, but it gets lost along the way and a grimace surfaces. I make a fist with my thumb and pinky out, lowering it.

“Stay.”

There’s no place for her to go, anyway, not when I have the key.

Turning away from her, I start back towards the stairs. My eyes flick towards the mirror for another glance at my strange discovery, and my gut twists when she tucks back into herself.

Two

Creed

The further I get down the stairs, the more I come to terms with telling my brother about our unexpected guest. With past moves, I’ve had to alert him of a rat here, a cockroach there, but an entire human is uncharted territory. Who knew that after years of isolation, I’d finally come face to face with another person in an old abandoned house?

The adrenaline ebbs, logic replacing it. An influx of questions overwhelm my mind as I jog down the winding halls. How long has she been in there? What’s her name? How old is she? What happens if Cecil makes her leave? Does she have anyone looking for her? A family?

Distracted by my racing thoughts, I don’t realize I’ve made it back to the main level of the house until I see Cecil out the front window. With the kitchen to my right, I consider taking her food first, but what if she has a hidden weapon? My heartbeat stutters, torn between the excitement of meeting someone for the first time in years and the macabre reality of our situation.

Mind made up, I step onto the porch, peering across the fields.

The air nips at my skin, warning that winter’s frosted touch is closing in. I fill my lungs until they ache, welcoming the earthy scent of the pond just ahead. I’ll need to snort bleach to get that stench out of my nose.

How the hell has she been living up there?

The goosebumps along my skin serve as a reminder of how low the temperatures drop at night. Cecil’s been working on the generator to get the electricity and well functioning again. There’s no telling how long she’s been surviving without heat, or light, or running water.

And I thought our shoebox apartment was bad.

My brother doesn’t notice my arrival as he moves around the side of the house, hunched over in search of something. I smack the siding in quick succession. He doesn’t turn to look at me, but raises his index finger. Unfortunately, this isn’t the kind of situation where holding on is an option.