CHAPTER 14 — WHEN SILENCE BREAKS
1865 Words
CHAPTER 14 — WHEN SILENCE BREAKS
Elias didn’t sleep that night.
He couldn’t.
Every time he closed his eyes, the image of Amani curled up in that dim room—silent, small, hurting—flashed inside his mind. And beneath it, the memory of the video he had accidentally seen. A memory he desperately wished he could erase, even if it meant erasing part of himself.
He had never hated anything the way he hated that video.
He spent the whole night pacing his bedroom, fists clenching and unclenching, heart racing like it was trying to run out of his chest. At moments he had to stop and grip the windowsill just to force air into his lungs. He had always known Amani was hiding pain—he wasn’t stupid—but he didn’t know it was that, didn’t know the truth had been recorded, didn’t know she had been carrying something so heavy and watching it alone every day.
And she never told him.
Not even once.
That part hurt in a different way.
By morning, Elias had already made a decision. He didn’t care if she pushed him away, didn’t care if she went silent, didn’t care if she ran again. He was done sitting back. Done letting her drown alone. He was going to talk to her. Even if she refused. Even if she tried to escape again.
He wasn’t losing her.
Not to the past.
Not to fear.
Not to Ethan.
Not to anyone.
---
The next day at school, the hallways buzzed with the same noise as always, but to Elias, everything felt muted—like he was walking underwater. Students laughed, lockers slammed, teachers called out instructions, but it all blurred into distant echoes.
His eyes searched only for one person.
Amani.
He found her in their first class, seated near the window. She looked… different. Not sick, not tired—just empty. Like someone had scooped out the light that usually lived inside her and left only a shell.
Mila, seated beside her, was talking quietly, but Amani wasn’t responding. Not even pretending. Her gaze stayed fixed outside, like the world in front of her was too heavy to face.
Elias’s chest tightened painfully.
He took a seat behind her, and for a moment, he just watched her silently, trying to gather the courage to speak. But the words didn’t come. Not yet. The teacher walked in, students scrambled for their books, and class began.
But no one—not the teacher, not the lesson—could distract him.
Halfway through the class, Amani lifted her hand to tuck a braid behind her ear, and Elias noticed the faint tremble in her fingers.
She wasn’t okay.
He knew it now more than ever.
He leaned forward and whispered, “Amani.”
She stiffened instantly, like his voice was something sharp. She didn’t turn. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t move.
“Can we talk?” he asked softly.
She shook her head once—barely noticeable, but enough.
Elias swallowed hard. His jaw tightened.
He didn’t push, not there. Not while she was already struggling to keep herself from breaking.
But he also wasn’t letting this go.
---
By lunchtime, Amani had disappeared again.
Mila approached Elias at the cafeteria table with crossed arms and worry written all over her face.
“Have you seen her?” she asked.
“No,” Elias muttered. “She’s avoiding me.”
“She’s avoiding everyone,” Mila said. She sat down and tapped her fingers anxiously. “Elias… I don’t know what’s going on with her anymore. She barely talks. She barely eats. I don’t even think she sleeps.”
Elias felt his chest constrict.
Mila lowered her voice. “I tried asking her if something happened. She said she’s fine, but I know she’s lying. She flinches when someone touches her shoulder. She jumps when someone calls her name. This is not normal.”
Elias didn’t answer.
He didn’t trust himself to.
If he opened his mouth, he might tell Mila everything. He might tell the whole school. He might scream.
Ethan Kelvin had taken something from Amani—something no one had the right to take—and Elias now knew with certainty that Amani had been carrying every ounce of that pain alone for years.
He was drowning in the desire to destroy Ethan.
Mila watched him carefully. “Elias… if you know something—”
“It’s not my place,” he muttered.
Mila opened her mouth to respond, but Elias had already stood up and walked away.
He needed to find Amani.
---
He searched the entire school—the bathrooms, the library, the back field, even Luka’s empty classroom—but she was nowhere.
By the time the final bell rang, Elias felt panic rising like smoke inside him.
Then he spotted her.
She was leaving the school grounds quietly, hugging her backpack to her chest like a shield. She didn’t speak to anyone, didn’t look at anyone, didn’t even seem aware of her surroundings.
Elias jogged after her.
“Amani!” he called.
She froze.
Slowly, she turned to him. Her eyes were guarded, dim, like shuttered windows. Her voice came out barely above a whisper.
“What do you want, Elias?”
He stopped a few steps away, trying to control the storm inside him.
“I want you,” he said softly. “Not in the way you’re thinking. Not romantically. Not anything like that. I just… I want you here. With us. With me. I want you safe.”
Her eyes flickered. “I am safe.”
“No, you’re not.”
Silence.
The kind that hurts.
Amani looked away, her breathing shaky. “Please don’t, Elias.”
“Don’t what?” he asked gently.
“Don’t try to fix me.”
Elias felt his heart twist.
“I’m not trying to fix you,” he said. “I’m trying to hold you up before you break.”
Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away quickly, shaking her head again.
“You don’t understand,” she whispered. “You don’t know anything.”
“I know enough.”
She stepped back, panic flashing across her face. “No. You don’t.”
“Amani—”
“No!” Her voice cracked, sharp and desperate. “You don’t know what it’s like. You don’t know what I saw—what I keep seeing—every night, every day. You don’t know what he did to me. You don’t—”
Her voice broke completely.
Elias’s hands shook.
He wanted to tell her he did know.
He wanted to tell her he had seen the video.
He wanted to tell her she didn’t have to carry this alone.
But he didn’t want her to think he had betrayed her trust.
So instead, he breathed out slowly and said, “Amani… please talk to me.”
She closed her eyes tightly.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“Why?”
“Because if I talk… I’ll fall apart.”
Elias stepped closer, his voice barely a breath. “Then fall apart with me.”
Her eyes snapped open—wide, broken, afraid.
And she ran.
She turned and bolted down the street as fast as she could, her breath hitching. Elias cursed under his breath and chased after her, but she was quick—faster than he expected—and by the time he reached the corner, she was gone.
Completely gone.
---
That night, Amani didn’t go home.
Her mother called Mila, asking if she had seen her. Mila panicked and called Luka. Luka told Elias instantly.
By midnight, Elias was running through the town streets, calling her name, checking everywhere he could think of—her grandmother’s old house, the park, the church steps, the market areas.
Nothing.
She wasn’t anywhere.
By dawn, he felt hollow, exhausted, and terrified.
Mila was crying by then, Luka couldn’t sit still, and Elias… he felt like something inside him was shattering.
He went home only to change clothes, then grabbed his phone again. But his mother stopped him at the door.
“Elias,” she said gently. “You need to rest.”
“I need to find her.”
“Son—”
“No!” Elias snapped, louder than he meant to. “She’s out there alone. She’s hurting. She’s not safe. I have to find her.”
His mother stared at him quietly before stepping aside.
“Go,” she whispered.
---
On the fourth day, Mila found something. An old note in Amani’s locker—crumbled, almost forgotten.
It said:
“When it hurts too much, I go to the only place that ever felt peaceful.”
— Amani
Mila showed it to Elias with trembling fingers.
He didn’t need more.
He ran.
Straight to her grandmother’s grave.
---
The cemetery was quiet.
The wind cold.
The grass wet with morning dew.
When Elias reached the gravestone, he saw a small folded blanket beside it. A backpack. An empty water bottle.
And Amani.
She was sitting with her knees pulled to her chest, staring at the gravestone with hollow eyes.
Elias approached quietly, breathing uneven. He didn’t speak at first. He just sank down beside her, leaving a respectful distance.
Minutes passed.
Finally, Amani whispered, still looking forward, “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Neither should you.”
Another silence. Softer this time.
She swallowed hard. “I wanted… I wanted the pain to stop.”
Elias closed his eyes briefly, fighting the ache in his chest.
“Amani,” he murmured, voice cracking, “you can’t do this alone. Please. Let me in. Let us in.”
She shook her head weakly. “You’ll hate me.”
“I could never.”
“You don’t know what I did.”
“You didn’t do anything,” Elias said firmly. “He did.”
Her throat tightened. Tears slid down her cheeks, but she didn’t wipe them.
“I watched it,” she whispered. “Over and over. I wanted to feel numb. I wanted to punish myself. I wanted… I don’t know what I wanted anymore.”
Elias swallowed hard.
He had never wanted to hit someone as much as he wanted to hit Ethan.
He gently turned toward her, voice low, trembling.
“Amani… I saw the video.”
She froze.
Slowly—painfully—she turned to look at him.
“You… what?”
He nodded.
“I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But I saw it. And it broke me. I can’t imagine what it did to you.”
Amani’s breath hitched violently. Her whole body shook as if struck.
“And you… you still came?” she whispered.
“I ran.”
A sob escaped her—sharp and raw—as she buried her face in her hands.
Elias didn’t touch her. He didn’t pull her close. He didn’t force comfort.
He simply sat beside her while she cried, letting her break safely.
Because she wasn’t alone anymore.
She would never be alone again.
Not while Elias Black was breathing.
- Writer
