Page 10 of A Silence So Divine

Despair slams back into my chest and I allow it to wash over me. Such a familiar feeling, there’s no use in fighting it. It’s a part of me as much as the birthmark on my shoulder.

Minutes pass and he doesn’t return. Idly, I begin running the pen over the page. Flowers, butterflies, vines, hearts, and stars.

My eyelids droop, my body sinking further into the mattress. The sound of a twisting knob startles me awake. I’m expecting Cecil, but it’s the boy from earlier. I’m relieved to deal withsomeone less hostile, and the sight of what he’s carrying could make me jump with joy.

One hand cradles a glass of water, while the other balances a large plate. Beyond the window is an expanse of deep blue, so it must be dinner time. I haven’t had a hot meal in so long that tears prick at my eyes. I don’t check what’s on the plate before I reach for the pen and write a message.

Thank you

I underline it five times for emphasis. A dimple appears in his left cheek and warmth floods my chest. He sets the dishes on the nightstand before bringing his hand to his chin and pulling it away. I noticed the way he used his hands earlier, but never spoke with his mouth. It’s peculiar, but intriguing. Maybe he’s like me and found his own way to communicate.

I don’t ponder too long, though. The moment he releases my other restraint, I’m sitting up and bringing the plate to my lap.

Roast chicken with potatoes and green beans. Not bothering with the fork, I dig into the meal. The meat is tender, savory juices dripping down my chin. Did one of them cook? Are there more people here? Niggling at the back of my mind is the thought that I should be more cautious, that this could somehow be a trap.

But it isquitedelicious.

I use the back of my hand to wipe at my mouth before I’m back to shoveling in food. The boy's lips are lifted at the corners but his eyes look sad. It’s a look of pity, I’m certain. If I weren’t starving, I might feel ashamed.

There’s little room for that with the way I’ve been living.

Mere minutes have passed and my plate is nearly clean. I use the last potato to sop up any remaining juices. Carefully setting the plate aside, I reach for the water and guzzle it down. My stomach is cramping in objection, but I would eat another helping if he brought me one.

Leaning back on the headboard, I release a deep breath and look at the boy across from me. He raises his eyebrows and gives me a thumbs up, then flips it to a thumbs down. It’s such a stark contrast to the interactions with Cecil that I could laugh. Instead, I offer a weak smile and a thumbs up.

Pleased, he pats himself on the back.

He motions to my pen and paper and I hand them over. His right hand flits over the paper, his brows drawn low in concentration.

Fatigue is a heavy weight on my shoulders, but I fight it best I can. I don’t mind this boy's company—matter of fact, I might enjoy it. Despite my efforts, a yawn slips free. With my hand over my mouth, he catches the movement and peeks at me under umber lashes. He scribbles on the page once more before flipping it towards me.

MY BROTHER TOLD ME YOUR NAME IS EDEN. MY NAME IS CREED. SORRY FOR SCARING YOU, WE DIDN’T KNOW ANYONE LIVED HERE

Then underneath,

GET SOME REST. WE CAN TALK TOMORROW

The voice in the back of my head, Papa’s voice, warns me not to sleep in the house with strangers. Imustbe alone. The Lord gave me Papa because he is the only one who could save my soul. Everyone else will only hurt me or get hurtbyme.

But I am so tired. I just need one night. Once morning comes, I will explain that they must leave.

I nod slightly, beginning to lift the covers. Lowering my gaze to my wrinkled dress, I contemplate if I want to soil the bedding with my filth. After two weeks of being unable to bathe, I know I smell awful. I cycled through what few dresses I own for a semblance of normal hygiene practices.

I’ve owned this dress since I was eleven. Desperate for something clean, I pulled it from my drawer, assuming it wouldbe much too small. When it slipped past my chest, then my hips, a single tear followed suit and fell to my bare feet.

The moment he reaches for my dinner plate, I grab his wrist. Instantaneously, we snap away from one another. My cheeks burn.

Though his eyes are wide with surprise, he doesn’t reprimand me for touching him. It gives me the confidence I need to scribble a quick message. The worst he can say is no.

Can I bathe?

I tack on apleasefor good measure.

Creed doesn’t respond right away, instead worrying his lip between pearly front teeth. He’s watching the door to the bedroom and I can almost see the cogs turning in his mind.

Twisting my fingers in my lap, I wait patiently for his decision. I’ve been dirty for days now, what’s another? If anything, I should be grateful that I had a meal.

A minute stretches on and the hope begins to dwindle. I dip my chin in defeat when he briskly walks across the room. Opening the door to the en suite bathroom, he sticks his head in and flicks on the light.