The charred stick felt like the heaviest thing she had ever held.
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It was just a piece of wood, still warm from the fire. In Kai’s outstretched hand, it had been a bridge. An offering to understand or to gain information to utilize. Now, the stick lying across her palm in the dirt was a verdict.
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Who are you?
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The question echoed in the silent prison of her mind. Who was she? She was the girl who had broken her town—the monster of Oakhaven. Soon to be the King’s asset. Currently, Kai’s secret. A creature of collar and scar. She was all those wretched things, but to put any of it into the dirt felt like making it real all over again.
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She looked from the stick to the patch of earth he had smoothed for her. A blank slate more intimidating than anything she’d experienced. Her eyes flicked up to his. Flinty eyes met her gaze. No real emotions shone in their depths, just calmness. He was waiting for her to be ready.
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Was this some test? Would he use her words against her? Would he look at her as everyone back in Oakhaven did?
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The weight of the collar was a constant ache, but this new weight, the weight of his expectant silence, was worse.
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Tentatively, her fingers closed around the charcoal. It left smudges on her palm. She shifted on her knees, facing the dirt.
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She wanted to start with the facts. Keep the story simple, but the first thing that rose in her throat, hot and suffocating, wasn’t a fact.
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Her hand moved, shaky and slow. The charcoal scratched against the hard earth, leaving a frail, grey line. She didn’t write a word. She drew.
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It was a crude, childish shape. A lopsided circle. Inside it, she drew two smaller circles for eyes and a down turned curve for a mouth. A sad face. Below it was a trembling hand; she scrawled a single word.
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'Sorry'
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She stared at the word scratched in the soil. It was insufficient for how she truly felt, but it was the best she could put down for these feelings. She pointed to the drawing, then pressed her hand to her own chest, her eyes begging Kai to understand.
This is who I am. I am sorry.
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She watched his face, waiting for the cold judgment that would cut through her shame. He leaned forward slightly, the fire catching the hard planes of his face. His gaze traced the sad face, then the word. His brow furrowed, not in anger, but in a deep, focused concentration. He was attempting to solve her like a puzzle.
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“For what?”
The two-word question that held the weight of the world. He wasn’t accusing her; he was offering her the ability to explain what had happened.
A soundless sob hitched in Zara’s chest. The collar gave a warning pulse of heat, sensing her emotional turmoil. She ignored it; the pain from the collar was nothing compared to the pain she carried since that horrible day.
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Her following movements were faster, and the writing jagged and sharp. The letters spilling out frantically, while her heart screamed in silence.
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'My family. My fault. The scream. The silence.'
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“The scream? What scream?” He questions, his brows furrowing further.
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Zara pointed to herself with frustration before pointing to the word ‘scream’, moving her mouth into a silent scream. Then she pointed to ‘silence’.
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“You screamed, and there was silence. How does your family tie in?”
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She slammed the stick down and shoved the dirt with her hands, erasing it all. Even in a calm state of mind, it was hard to describe what had happened, but her memories pounded at her, trying to break out of the box she had stuffed them into.
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She hugged her knees to her chest, rocking slightly, her face buried. She couldn’t look at Kai. She had tried to warn him of the monster she was. It made no sense that the King had sent the man after her. With her powers untamed, she was a dangerous weapon to wield, and it seemed no one seemed to understand the extent of her unharnessed abilities.
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The silence stretched, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the frantic beat of her heart.
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Then she felt it. Not a touch. A presence. Kai had moved. He was crouched next to her. When she dared to peek, she saw he had picked up the stick.
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“Zara, I need you to tell me how to keep you safe.”
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His voice has softened, as though he were speaking to a cornered animal. The compassionate look in his eyes was a startling contrast to what she was used to seeing when people looked at her. He wasn’t coming at her with accusations. He was asking for her story, for her side of things. No one had ever asked her before. It would hurt to get out, but maybe someone would know the real story.
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In the quiet safety of his demand, Zara began, for the first time, writing about the day Oakhaven lost all sounds.
ns216.73.216.37da2
and then Add to home screen.