The Sound of Silence

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Chapter One: The Sound of Silence

The slap came before the words.

Sharp. Echoing. Final.

Alina didn’t flinch anymore. She stood in the kitchen, fingers trembling over the edge of a chipped porcelain plate, the sting on her cheek already beginning to bloom. Her father towered behind her, the stench of whiskey rolling off him in waves.

“You dropped my glass, you useless brat,” he growled.

“It was already cracked,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

That was mistake number one.

The second slap came harder, this time knocking her sideways against the counter. Her knees buckled, but she stayed upright. She always stayed upright. Because the one time she hadn’t—her mother had cried harder than she ever had before.

But her mother wasn’t here to cry anymore.

The thought hollowed her out like a cold spoon scraping the last bit of jelly from an empty jar. Her eyes drifted to the hallway, to the narrow wooden door that had stayed shut for three weeks now.

Inside was the room her mother once sat in, humming soft lullabies and hiding her tears behind makeup and false smiles.

Now it was just dust and echoes.

“I’m going out,” her father barked, yanking his coat off the hook. “And the bills better be paid this time, or I swear—”

The door slammed.

And the silence returned.

Alina slid to the floor, the cracked plate still in her hand. The silence screamed louder than any blow.

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She cleaned up the mess, dressed her wounds, and changed into her uniform for her night shift at the 24/7 diner two blocks away. Her eyes were puffy, her lips cracked, her spirit... flickering. She got up and went to her room. Sitting on her bed she help a small diary and a pen. Time stilled as she poured her heart out in a poem:

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Letters to the Moon – No. 1

“For the night dreamers and heart wanderers.”

Dear Moon,

I’m tired in a way only the stars would understand.

Not sleepy, no—but soul-heavy.

I keep folding myself into verses, hoping someone might read between the lines

and find the version of me I lost in a poem one spring night.

Are you listening?

I hope you are.

Because tonight, I want to believe someone up there still remembers

how I used to shine before the shadows kissed me quiet.

Always,

The girl who writes instead of sleeping

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Back to the story:

But something in her chest, something small and stubborn, whispered, You won’t always live like this.

And tonight, she would take one tiny step toward that impossible dream. With bursted lips and silent tears, her eyes held a silent plea. She raised her head and looked at the moon wondering if it was looking at her too.

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Would you like Chapter Two next, Alina’s escape plan? Or do we go deeper into the moment she snaps and finally rus?

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