Voices In TheDark
1144 Words
She looked around the empty bedroom, suddenly feeling like someone was watching her.
She grabbed her bag and walked out the front door, never looking back.
That night, Shammah Rowland disappeared from Chevron City with two hundred dollars, a bag of books, and a baby growing inside her.
The bus was cold and smelled like old leather and rain. Shammah sat in the back, her bag clutched to her chest, staring out the window as Chevron City's lights disappeared behind her.
Her hand rested on her stomach. Underneath her coat, underneath her sweater, a tiny life was growing. A life that would never know the Khai mansion. A life that would never feel invisible.
"Are you okay, miss?" an old woman sitting across the aisle asked. Her voice was kind.
Shammah turned. Her eyes were dry, but they burned. "I will be," she whispered.
The woman nodded like she understood and went back to her knitting.
Shammah leaned her head against the cold window. Her mind replayed the divorce scene over and over like a movie she couldn't stop watching.
David's cold eyes. Ivy's smug smile. The pen in her hand. The papers she signed.
It's just you and me now, she had told the baby.
But was that true? What if David came looking for her? What if Margaret found out about the pregnancy?
Shammah shook her head. No. They wouldn't come. To them, she was already gone. Already forgotten.
The bus hit a bump, and Shammah's bag slipped. A photograph fell out, Victor Khai's face staring up at her from the floor.
She picked it up carefully. Victor had kind eyes. He used to hold her hand and tell her stories about when David was a little boy.
"He wasn't always like this," Victor would say. "He used to laugh so much. Then his father died, and something inside him broke."
Shammah had wanted to fix that broken thing. For three years, she tried.
But you can't fix someone who doesn't want to be fixed.
She tucked the photo back into her bag and closed her eyes. Winterclan was four hours away. Four hours to figure out what came next.
Back at the Khai mansion, David stood in his office, staring at the city lights through the tall glass window.
The divorce papers sat on his desk, signed and finalized. It was done. Over.
So why did his chest feel tight?
He poured himself a drink, whiskey, expensive, the kind that burned going down. He drank it in one swallow and poured another.
Behind him, the door opened. Ivy walked in, her red dress swishing against the floor. She wrapped her arms around his waist from behind.
"It's finally done," she purred. "No more pretending. No more playing house with that pathetic little girl."
David didn't answer. He kept staring out the window.
Ivy frowned. She moved around to face him, but David's eyes were somewhere else. Somewhere far away.
"David?" she said, her voice sharper now. "Are you even listening to me?"
"I'm listening," he said quietly.
"Then why do you look like you just lost something?"
David's jaw tightened. "I didn't lose anything. This was always the plan."
"Exactly," Ivy said, smiling again. She ran her fingers down his chest. "The plan. Your grandfather wanted you married, you got married. He's gone now, so the burden is lifted. You're free."
Free.
The word echoed in David's head, but it didn't feel right. It felt hollow.
David remembered the first time he saw Shammah. She wasn't supposed to be his bride, Nora was. But Nora ran, and suddenly this quiet girl with wide, scared eyes was standing at the altar in a too-big wedding dress.
He barely looked at her during the ceremony. He told himself it didn't matter. It was just a contract. Just a signature on a piece of paper to make his grandfather happy.
But then she moved into his house.
And she tried.
God, she tried.
Every morning, there was coffee waiting for him, made exactly the way he liked it, even though he never told her how. Every night, she waited up, even though he came home late. She left little notes in his briefcase. Simple things. Have a good day. I made your favorite dinner. Drive safe.
He never acknowledged them. But he kept every single one in the bottom drawer of his desk.
Why did he keep them?
He didn't know.
And then there was the night of the storm. The power went out, and David found Shammah sitting in the hallway, knees pulled to her chest, shaking. She was terrified of the dark.
He didn't say anything. He just sat down beside her and stayed until the lights came back on.
She whispered, "Thank you," but he pretended not to hear.
Why did he do that? Why did he sit with her if he didn't care?
"David!" Ivy snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Where are you?"
David blinked. He looked at Ivy, really looked at her. The red dress, the perfect makeup, the calculated smile.
She was beautiful. She always had been.
But when he tried to remember a single moment with Ivy that made him feel the way that storm night did, he came up empty.
"I'm tired," he said, pulling away from her. "I need to be alone."
Ivy's smile vanished. "Alone? David, we just got rid of her. This is supposed to be our time."
"I said I need to be alone."
Ivy's eyes went cold. She stepped back, her arms crossed. "Fine," she said, her voice like ice. "But don't take too long, David. I've waited years for this. I'm not waiting forever."
She turned and walked out, slamming the door behind her.
David sank into his chair and opened the bottom drawer of his desk.
Inside were dozens of little notes. Small pieces of paper, folded and creased. All in Shammah's handwriting.
Have a good day.
I hope your meeting goes well.
Don't work too late.
I'm proud of you.
David picked one up. His hands were shaking.
Why had he kept these? Why did looking at them now make his chest ache?
He crushed the note in his fist and threw it across the room.
"She meant nothing," he said out loud to the empty office. "Nothing."
But even as he said it, he knew it was a lie.
On the bus, Shammah's phone buzzed again. Another message from the unknown number.
You think leaving will keep you safe? You think running will protect what you're carrying?
Shammah's heart stopped. Her hands went cold.
How did they know? How did anyone know she was pregnant? She had only found out yesterday.
Her fingers trembled as she typed back: Who is this?
Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared again.
Finally, a response came through.
- Writer
