Page 6 of A Silence So Divine

Despite that, Cecil has been more of a parent to me than our actual father. And our moms? Neither of them wanted anything to do with us. We were merely a lapse in judgment and an unfortunate nine months that they couldn’t wait to forget.

Our dad’s standards for women must have settled far below sea level.

We approach the painting, still illuminated by the closet light, and Cecil’s nose scrunches.“Weird.”

My thoughts exactly.

He ducks into the closet, searching for the hidden door.

I wave my hand in his peripheral to capture his attention. “No,”I sign. “It’s behind here.”

Taking his hand, I bring it to the keyhole in the frame. His face is mostly shadowed, but I see him mutter something before biting the inside of his cheek.

Once the door has swung open, Cecil steps ahead of me. For once, I don’t complain when my brother takes the lead.

Despite my nerves, I’m hot on his heels, craning my neck to see around him. Maybe she’ll be more calm now that she knows I want to help her. Or maybe she has a family of a dozen more crazy people hiding behind the insulation. The thought makes my stomach roll, and the growing stench is only aiding in my nausea.

Cecil halts on the landing, and I bump into his back. I roll onto the balls of my feet to see over his shoulder. Oh, fuck,why?

Any hope I had for a peaceful meeting is obliterated. Standing in front of the window, she grips a chunk of glass. The mirror in the corner has been smashed and shards glitter on the floor, a dozen reflections of her staring back at us. There’s blood on her feet.

Her eyes are wild once more, the new weapon held out in front of her same as the hairbrush, but much more daunting. If I wasn’t about to puke from anxiety, I’d think she’s clever.

“She’s scared,”I say, but Cecil doesn’t spare me a backwards glance before he’s across the room.

The girl stumbles back until she’s flush against the wall. Cecil reaches for her throat with one hand and her wrist with the other. She doesn’t try to stab him, only shakes her head back and forth. When the mirror piece falls to her feet, her eyes turn on me. I’m paralyzed with what I see. Panic. Betrayal.

I bring my hands up.

“Calm down.”

Easier said than done, I’m sure, with a 6’3 stranger holding you by your neck and screaming in your face.

The veins in his neck bulge while he accosts the girl. All she manages to do is squeeze her eyes shut and tuck her lips into her mouth, continuing to shake her head against his grip.

My brother isn’t looking at me, but I sign anyway. “You’re hurting her. Let go. She’s weak. Cecil. Please. Cecil!”

I’m preparing to jump on his back when she gets eerily still, her knees buckling. Cecil frowns and pulls his hand away. Her face hits the floorboards.

Without a second thought, I slam the palm of my hand into his shoulder. There’s a brief moment where guilt wrinkles his forehead, but he’s quick to smooth it away.

“What did you do!?”

Without waiting to see his response, I crouch beside her. If she’s dead, I’ll never forgive him.

As carefully as I can, I slip my hands beneath her body and turn her onto her back. Little nicks mar her cheeks from the slivers of glass, her lips are raw, and a goose egg grows from her forehead.

I haven’t got a clue on first aid, but I press a palm to her chest. My whole body trembles, muscles tight with anxiety. Finally, her lungs expand on a deep inhale, and I sigh. Thank the Lord, or whatever.

My brother stands with his arms crossed, staring out the window. He must be lost in thought, because he doesn’t notice what I’m doing until I’m headed towards the door. His angry stomps buzz beneath me and I scowl.

“Put her down.”His signs are forceful, his lips moving along with them. Sometimes, I think myself lucky for not being subjected to all of his hollering.

My hands are too full, literally, to respond so I simply shake my head and continue past him.

“What’s your plan, Creed? We cannot trust this… crazy woman.”

I don’t bother to see what else he says, choosing instead to make my way down the steps. She doesn’t weigh a thing, but her long limbs keep hitting the walls. There’s enough bruises and scrapes on her already, I’m careful not to add another.