WHISPERS OF THE PAST

CHAPTER ONE: SILENCE My stepmother’s accusation leaves me frozen, and confused. Her accusing voice is loud and clear, but I haven't done what she's accusing me of. Leaving the heater on. That's what she accuses me of—but I'm certain It has nothing to do with me. She has always warned of this—never leave the heater on after usage—so I have always tried my hardest to comply. I open my mouth, keeping my voice calm and soft, “I don't know anything about—” I should have known better, but the thought comes too late. The slap is sharp, and fast. It catches me off-guard, sending me dropping hard to the floor. Hot tears immediately well at the back of my eyes, some spill out despite my best efforts to stop them. I hate myself. Why do I still cry when she hits me? I should be used to this by now, yet I let myself get emotional. I hate myself for it. Being emotional has always been my weakness and I hate myself for it. What do I expect from her—Love? Fair treatment? My stepmother has never been kind to me or ever shown me any hint of love. My father brought me to live with them after my mom died—I wished and still do, that he had left me in an orphanage instead. I only reminded her that her husband, whom she had always trusted, is unfaithful. My mother died when I was two years old. I don't remember much about her but I know one thing for certain, my stepmother’s hatred towards me runs deep. “Were you trying to talk back to me?” Her eyes fill with fury. “I'm sorry,” my voice is low, almost a whisper. I cradle my throbbing cheek with one hand while the other supports me as I lay on the floor. The slap still hurts. A brief silence. Her eyes remain on me, and her brows furrow in disgust. I slowly push myself from the floor. My eyes shift to the staircase. Isabell stands there, watching. I had seen her turn on the heater earlier. I had reminded her to turn it off when she was done but of course, she must have forgotten, and now I'm being punished for what she had done. For what seems like a few seconds, her usual cold demeanor vanishes. Her face looks fallen, and her eyes downcast. Is that guilt? Isabell is my elder half-sister. And like her mother, her hatred towards me is unmatched. She doesn't bully me directly—that was in the past—but she always does stuff like this. Set me up and watch me take the fall, knowing her mother would never believe me. Almost immediately, the warm expression vanishes and she glares at me with hate before walking to her room. I still cradle my cheek with my palm, staring at the floor to avoid my stepmother’s gaze. Then my stepmother’s voice, sharp and loud, cut through the growing silence, “Stop standing there. Finish the laundry and prepare dinner. And…you won't be having any.” She glares at me, before she turns and leaves, there is no changing her mind. I retreat to the laundry room and finish up with the washing, then I move on to prepare dinner. This was becoming my second nature so I do them faster now. Clara!! She's one of the people keeping me sane in this Godforsaken town. She has been my best friend since we were ten and we both attend Lancaster High. She's the one who had first stood up for me at school, a tough one she is. One time, she beat up Isabell after she noticed the bruises on my arm from her and her lackeys. We were younger then, but I have never forgotten her loyalty and bravery. Since I won't be having dinner here, I look forward to seeing Clara later tonight. I'm supposed to collect my assignment from her but more than that, I need her comfort. Dinner is over, and I clear the table hastily. I rush to my room, grab my phone and call Clara for the third time tonight. Still unreachable. That is odd! **I hope she's okay?** A knot of worry forms in my stomach. I pick up my backpack and hurry to my stepmother’s room. I pause for a moment before knocking softly on her door. “What?” Her voice is sharp, laced with hatred. **How does she know I am the one knocking?** “I'm going to Clara's to get my assignment, I will be back soon.” I say quietly. “Yeah, whatever, wench.” I step outside, closing the door gently behind me. I inhale deeply as the cool night air washes over me. The leaves rustle and the stars are fully bright. For the first time today, I feel at peace. Then my thoughts drift to Christian and I can't help but smile. Now a co-captain of the school's basketball team and towering in height, with piercing lime–green eyes. When we first met six years ago, he was shy and nerdy. Then we were just friends. When he officially asked me to be his girlfriend, I was in disbelief for a week. We were already friends but I didn't think he would see me that way. But I have always known he wasn't like the others. Christian was different–still is, and he loves me, so I said yes. Ever since then he has been my protector, shielding me from bullies and showing me off as his. I didn't want to appear needy but he insists I lean on him for anything. Christian and Clara make my otherwise unbearable life in Wilmington, bearable. They are both my anchors and without them, I may probably have— **Never mind.** I shove the thought aside. I step off the bus and adjust my backpack over my shoulders. It is less than a ten-minute walk to Clara’s. I slip in my earphones and play Sabrina Carpenter's Espresso as I walk. Clara's mother is working the night shift today so I know only Clara will be home tonight. My stomach growls loudly making me realise I still haven't had dinner yet, I rub my stomach. **I hope she cooked or has something to eat at least.** I approach the front door and raise my hand to knock only to find the door slightly ajar. A warning flashes through my mind, and a knot forms in stomach. My brows knit together and worry. I call her again…nothing. I hesitate. For some reason I can't explain…I push forward, opening the door and closing slowly behind me. The house is neat as usual and I see her footwear and…another pair. I swallow a lump down my throat. The house is quiet except for the faint hum of the refrigerator coming from the kitchen. I stop at the foot of the staircase. **Go back, Lena!!!** My mind screams at me. I pause, debating whether I should move up or not. Suddenly, I hear her voice—from her room upstairs. I slowly climb up the stairs and that is when I see them. Clothes scattered on the floor outside her door. My heart pounds in my chest, and my hands tremble. **Go back Lena!!** I plead with myself again. But…I don't. I open the door slowly—just enough to see inside. They didn't notice me. Of course they won't as they are too lost in each other. I don't need to see his face. The movement his body makes, and the way his muscles twitched with each thrust, his familiar broad shoulders. That is all the confirmation I need. I know that body so well. Her moans fill the room, and he made soft grunts. She's below him, one hand gripping his shoulder, and the other wrapped around his lower body, pulling him in. My chest suddenly feels heavy, as if it is getting crushed. The air gets thinner, everything becomes blurry. My backpack falls on the floor, its clatter bringing them back to the present. Their heads snap toward me, shock written on their faces. I immediately regret that I didn't listen to my gut. A violent ache tears through my chest and the tears fill my eyes. **I have to get out!!** Summoning strength, I run out, my chest heavy with pain, and the tears, streaming. I can't believe they were making out behind my back. The only question that screams in my head as I run down the stairs is; **HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN GOING ON?** The only people I have ever trusted have destroyed me. I'm almost at the door. “Lena!”. “Lena, wait up, it's not what you think! Let me explain!” Christian runs down, I look behind sharply to see him with a bedsheet barely covering his waist, his torso, bare. I continue. I don't stop running, I don’t want to hear anything. I open the door and dash outside. The air which was chilly earlier suddenly becomes hot and suffocating. I gasp for air but I don't stop moving. Then the pain hit sharply in my chest. And it dawns on me… Panic attack!!!! I clutch my chest, trying to physically contain my heart. Each breath becomes a hassle and seemingly impossible. The tears stream, and my body trembles. Images of the betrayal replay in my head, suffocating me even further. Suddenly— The deafening sound from the truck's horn breaks my thoughts. Its headlights, intense, make me squint my eyes. I was in the middle of the road. **How did I get here?** My legs fail me and lose their strength. I struggle to get a grip on them but I can't. I can't move— For a fleeting moment— I stop trying to run, stop trying to move. **Maybe dying is not a bad idea.** **Maybe…Maybe it has always been the better idea.** **What is the point in living if nobody wants you?** **Nobody cares. Nobody at all.** If Clara and Christian—my backbone—could betray me. Then, then probably something is wrong with me. I close my eyes and everywhere feels peaceful. My body feels light and death feels like the right thing to do. The tires of the truck screech, it tries to stop but it is late. A tear falls. The world spins. And then— Silence.