The silent voice within

Chapter 1 When I came into this world, all I could hear were sounds—people's voices surrounding me. I didn't cry. I didn't flinch. I simply lay in my mother's arms and stared at her. My mom was scared. She had expected me to cry because she'd always heard that babies cried the moment they were born—or at least, that's what I was told later. When I was born, I had my dad's gorgeous hair and my mom's beautiful brown eyes. Everyone came to see me that day. My mother's side of the family and my father's side came together to welcome the newest member of the family. They brought my mom gifts, celebrating her for bringing a beautiful baby girl into the world. My childhood started peacefully. I would play around the house with my mom while Dad took me everywhere he went. He loved me very much when I was little. Wherever he went, he wanted me with him, and I was always happy to follow. The three of us lived in a small but comfortable house. It wasn't much, but to me, it was home. By the time I was three, I could already write on my own. There was a little place outside our house where I loved to go. It was quiet, surrounded by grass and trees, and I would spend hours there playing by myself. Then, one day, a boy around my age walked up to me. He looked shy, almost as if he wasn't sure whether he should speak to me. Maybe he just needed a friend. He sat beside me, and after a few moments of awkward silence, we exchanged names. His name was Emmanuel. From that day forward, Emmanuel and I became best friends. He didn't live far from my house. In fact, his parents were our landlords, so we saw each other often. We played together almost every day. We lived in a peaceful little town surrounded by trees. Emmanuel and I would run through the grass, laugh until our stomachs hurt, and forget about everything else. Back then, I thought childhood would always be like that. I was wrong. When we were six, everything started to change. Emmanuel lost his mother to cancer. I didn't fully understand what death meant at that age. But I understood that his mother wasn't coming back. He was devastated. Suddenly, Emmanuel was left with only his father and his older siblings. Because his mother and my mother had been best friends, my mom took responsibility for looking after him. She treated him like he was part of our family. And I did everything I could to make him happy. I shared my toys with him. I shared my snacks. I even shared my parents with him. And I never minded. I loved sharing things with people I cared about. For a while, When I came into this world, all I could hear were sounds—people's voices surrounding me. I didn't cry. I didn't flinch. I simply lay in my mother's arms and stared at her. My mom was scared. She had expected me to cry because she'd always heard that babies cried the moment they were born—or at least, that's what I was told later. When I was born, I had my dad's gorgeous hair and my mom's beautiful brown eyes. Everyone came to see me that day. My mother's side of the family and my father's side came together to welcome the newest member of the family. They brought my mom gifts, celebrating her for bringing a beautiful baby girl into the world. My childhood started peacefully. I would play around the house with my mom while Dad took me everywhere he went. He loved me very much when I was little. Wherever he went, he wanted me with him, and I was always happy to follow. The three of us lived in a small but comfortable house. It wasn't much, but to me, it was home. By the time I was three, I could already write on my own. There was a little place outside our house where I loved to go. It was quiet, surrounded by grass and trees, and I would spend hours there playing by myself. Then, one day, a boy around my age walked up to me. He looked shy, almost as if he wasn't sure whether he should speak to me. Maybe he just needed a friend. He sat beside me, and after a few moments of awkward silence, we exchanged names. His name was Emmanuel. From that day forward, Emmanuel and I became best friends. He didn't live far from my house. In fact, his parents were our landlords, so we saw each other often. We played together almost every day. We lived in a peaceful little town surrounded by trees. Emmanuel and I would run through the grass, laugh until our stomachs hurt, and forget about everything else. Back then, I thought childhood would always be like that. I was wrong. When we were six, everything started to change. Emmanuel lost his mother to cancer. I didn't fully understand what death meant at that age. But I understood that his mother wasn't coming back. He was devastated. Suddenly, Emmanuel was left with only his father and his older siblings. Because his mother and my mother had been best friends, my mom took responsibility for looking after him. She treated him like he was part of our family. And I did everything I could to make him happy. I shared my toys with him. I shared my snacks. I even shared my parents with him. And I never minded. I loved sharing things with people I cared about. For a while, Emmanuel and I were still able to find happiness in the little things. But while we were busy being children, something was happening between my parents. They started falling apart. They argued more. They became distant. And I didn't understand why. I was too young to understand the problems adults carried inside them. All I knew was that something about home didn't feel the same anymore. Then one day, I was sent to live with my granny for a while. I didn't like the idea. I didn't want to leave my home. I didn't want to leave my parents. But most of all, I didn't want to leave Emmanuel. I knew I would miss my best friend. I just didn't know that leaving him would be the beginning of a childhood I would never get back. and I were still able to find happiness in the little things. But while we were busy being children, something was happening between my parents. They started falling apart. They argued more. They became distant. And I didn't understand why. I was too young to understand the problems adults carried inside them. All I knew was that something about home didn't feel the same anymore. Then one day, I was sent to live with my granny for a while. I didn't like the idea. I didn't want to leave my home. I didn't want to leave my parents. But most of all, I didn't want to leave Emmanuel. I knew I would miss my best friend. I just didn't know that leaving him would be the beginning of a childhood I would never get back.