The darkness within my silence

Chapter Two: Whisper

*God’s Jewel Diary – Entry One*

Hi guys, I’m *God’s Jewel*, and this is the story of my life.

Let me give you a brief introduction. I’m a 16-year-old teenager and a proud introvert. I value my privacy deeply—actually, I *love* my space. I dislike being taken for granted or looked down on, so I constantly push myself to meet standards that make those situations unlikely.

I’ll admit, I can come off as a snub sometimes, but don’t worry—I’m friendly and easy to get along with, as long as you don’t try to oppress me or cross my boundaries. Stick to the rules, and we’re good.

Enough of the serious talk—it’s nice to meet you! I hope you enjoy reading through my diary.

Well, I don’t exactly call it a *diary*—I named it *Whisper*. Why? Because it holds the secrets no one’s ever heard… especially the untold truth behind the life of a "famous, successful teenager." *Whisper* tries to speak, but somehow, no one ever listens. I don’t know why, but maybe that’s a good thing.

I’m just grateful no one truly knows… yet.

So, we’ll be going swiftly through the story of my life—just enough to bring you up to speed. I hope you won’t get bored.

*Whisper* will be telling this story, so listen closely, darling. It’s all up to you now.

I was born into a simple family as the first child. Naturally, I thought I’d receive all the love and attention, but that never came. Instead, I was constantly reminded that I was the cause of their problems. They told me I was never supposed to exist. That my existence was the reason they were trapped in what they called a “hell of a marriage.”

For years, I loathed myself because of that. I carried the guilt in my chest and tried to be perfect—thinking that if I could just please them, maybe it would lessen the burden I thought I brought into their lives. I didn’t realize that I wasn’t the problem. They were the ones who lacked vision, who made poor decisions. I was merely the result of their foolishness.

So tell me—how was that my fault?

If anything, I should be the one angry—for being dragged into their chaos without a choice.Sadly, it was the other way around—I was constantly trying to make up for a mistake I never made. And as if that wasn’t enough, my parents weren’t even there for me during the most important years of my life. I can honestly say I never had a proper childhood. I watched other kids play in the sand radiation with joy while I hold my book and can only watch from the window of my room.

Growing up was tough. Not because I couldn’t make friends, but because my mum taught me no one could be trusted. According to her, the only friends worth having were intelligent ones—and the most intelligent of them all should be my best friend. So, I kept to myself. In the school I attended, none of the “intelligent” students wanted to befriend me. But whenever we were asked to write an essay on “My Best Friend,” I always wrote about Diane—she was the smartest girl in class, even if she never noticed me or said a word to me.

I pushed myself to the top of the class just to avoid my parents’ scolding. For me, passing exams wasn’t just about grades—it was my only ticket to receiving Christmas clothes, new shoes, cereals… things other kids got without even asking. But for me, those little joys came at a price. My parents treated them like a reward system. An exchange.

My relationship with my mum was strained—she was always yelling. I still talked a bit with my dad, not much, but just enough to feel like I had someone. Then came the new tenant next door. We shared a corridor. He was around 20 years old, probably a student. He was playful and funny, and his company was the only warmth I had at the time.

I was just 5 years old.

I used to go over to his place often. My parents were rarely home, and even when they were, they didn’t care where I went. I was just a child—what could possibly happen to me, right? So, they turned a blind eye.

And that’s how my silence gradually started being filled with darkness…