Silent Half

Chapter Thirteen: Silent Cage

The sun was dipping low when I returned. The sky was tinged with lavender and orange, and the faint scent of honeysuckle floated through the back garden. I crept around the side of the house, careful to step on the soft patches of grass so my footsteps wouldn’t echo. The adrenaline that had kept me company all day was beginning to wear off, replaced with nerves that coiled tightly in my stomach.

I reached my window, the one that faced the garden, and stood on my toes, ready to climb in. Just a little further—

"Alina!"

The voice cracked through the air like a whip. I froze.

Then came the sharp grip on my hair, yanking me back with such force that I stumbled. My scalp burned as I turned to face my mother, whose face was twisted in fury, nostrils flared, eyes wild.

"Where have you been?!" she screamed. "Do you think this is a hotel? That you can come and go as you please?"

Before I could answer, her hand flew across my face. The slap echoed in the still evening. My cheek stung instantly, and I reeled back, gripping the side of the window frame to steady myself.

My voice was a whisper, trembling. "I didn’t do anything..."

"Didn’t do anything? You disappear for hours, sneak around like a thief in the night—and then lie about it?" Her voice was shrill, rising like a storm. "Your grandparents just left this morning. Have you no shame, acting like this under their roof?"

I blinked rapidly, trying to push the tears back. My face was on fire, but it wasn’t the slap that hurt most. It was the way her eyes looked at me. Like I was nothing.

Amara had told. She must’ve.

My mother stepped closer. "I should’ve known you’d turn out this way. Just like the day you were born—you came second. And you’ve always stayed second."

My heart sank. "What did I do wrong?" I asked, my voice breaking. "Why do you hate me so much?"

That seemed to catch her off guard. For a moment, just a brief flicker of it, her expression faltered. Her hand dropped from the air, trembling slightly. Her eyes widened, not with pity—but confusion. Guilt, maybe. But it was gone in a second.

"Lock her in her room," she ordered the maid, who stood at a distance, watching everything in silence. "She’s not to leave. No meals.

Nothing. Until she learns her place."

The maid nodded hesitantly.

My mother turned and walked away without another glance, heels clacking sharply against the floor.

I was dragged inside. My limbs moved stiffly, almost detached from me, like I was watching myself from afar. The door shut behind me with a hollow thud. Then the key turned in the lock.

Silence.

I sank to the floor, numb.

I didn’t cry. Not then. I just sat there, staring at the pale pink walls of my room that suddenly looked foreign. A cage painted in soft pastels. My face still tingled from the slap, and my fingers traced the sting as if to confirm it had really happened.

What had I done that was so wrong? I’d only wanted a moment of peace. A day to myself. To paint. To breathe.

I curled up on the edge of the bed, hugging my knees.

They hated me.

Not just disliked—hated. My parents, my maternal grandparents, even Amara. It wasn’t the kind of neglect that came from being busy. It was pointed. Intentional. Every word spoken to me came laced with disgust. Every glance a dismissal.

I stayed in that room the entire night. The next day. The one after that. No food. Only water, brought by a quiet maid who never looked me in the eye. She left it on the dresser and disappeared.

On the second night, my stomach hurt from emptiness. I sat by the window, moonlight washing over my face, trying to remember the last time I had felt safe.

Finn’s smile came to mind. Jace ruffling my hair. Elijah gently scolding me for not drinking enough water. Their presence had been my only anchor.

But they weren’t here now.

They didn’t know.

Would they even believe me if I told them?

My journal lay untouched beside my bed. I reached for it in the dark and opened it, flipping past entries full of quiet dreams and whispered hopes. I found a blank page and wrote:

Dear Diary,

I wonder what I did to deserve being born like this. If maybe I cried too much as a baby. Or maybe I took something from Amara without knowing. I keep trying to be good. I don’t fight. I don’t scream. I stay quiet, like they want. And still... it’s never enough.

They see me as a burden. A shadow. Something to tolerate, not love. I keep waiting for the moment when they’ll soften. When they’ll say they’re proud of me.

But that moment never comes.

Sometimes I think the world would be lighter if I disappeared. Not for me. For them.

I won’t disappear. But I will stay silent. It’s the only thing I have left to give.

Alina~

I closed the journal and placed it under my pillow.

The ceiling above me was cracked slightly in the corner. I traced it with my eyes until I fell into a shallow sleep, haunted by dreams I couldn’t remember.

In that room, with no one but silence and shadows for company, I existed like a ghost—forgotten by the people who should have loved me first.

And the worst part was, I had stopped expecting anything different.