Silent chains

Chapter One Kira walked the long road to school, arms wrapped tightly around herself in a futile attempt to ease the sharp pain radiating from her ribs. Every breath was jagged, each step calculated to avoid jostling her already fragile frame. It wasn’t the first time she’d gone to school with a cracked rib. It wouldn’t be the last. Her oversized hoodie swallowed her thin frame, the sleeves falling over trembling fingers. A sharp wind cut through the early morning air, but it was nothing compared to the cold she carried inside. Her stomach growled, twisting painfully. She ignored it. Hunger was familiar, like the bruises that bloomed under her skin. Two days without food. Her lunch card had been empty for weeks. She knew better than to ask her mother for anything. Gia would only remind her that food was earned, and Kira never seemed to earn enough. She swallowed, throat dry and tight. No matter how many times she told herself she was numb, that the blows no longer hurt, it wasn’t true. Not when she still felt the ache in her chest where love should’ve been. The school gates loomed ahead. Her pace slowed. She pulled her hood up, hiding her face, praying—just for today—that they wouldn’t see her. But fate was never kind to Kira. “Well, well,” came a familiar sneer as she stepped into the classroom. Leah. “If it isn’t the freak.” Kira kept her head down, slipping into the shadow of the doorframe, but Leah was already on the hunt. “I’m surprised you made it,” Leah’s voice dripped with mock concern. “I thought you might’ve died on the road.” Laughter erupted. Cruel. Sharp. Familiar. Kira didn’t flinch. Not on the outside. Inside, her heart raced as she kept walking, eyes locked on the empty desk in the back. If she could just get there… “Oh right,” another voice piped up. Jeremy. Leah’s latest lapdog. “She doesn’t talk. Forgot. She’s mute. Just like a broken doll.” More laughter. A cold sweat broke out on the back of Kira’s neck. Just get to your seat. A foot shot out. She didn’t see it in time. Her foot caught on Jeremy’s sneaker, sending her sprawling forward. The edge of a desk slammed into her ribs—right where her mother’s heel had caught her the night before. A strangled cry tore from her throat. It escaped before she could stop it. The room exploded in laughter. Hands slapped desks. Voices echoed with cruel delight. Kira’s vision blurred as pain seared through her side. She dragged herself upright, biting her lip so hard she tasted blood. Leah leaned down beside her, voice low and sweet. “Cry louder. Maybe someone will care.” Kira said nothing. She always said nothing. By the time the teacher walked in, she was seated, her body rigid, each breath shallow. Mr. Davis didn’t look her way. He never did. None of them ever did. She endured. She always endured. When the final bell rang, she didn’t wait. She slipped from her seat and out of the room, moving through the halls like smoke—unseen, unnoticed. By the time she made it home, exhaustion was pulling at every inch of her body. Their house loomed at the end of the street. A gated mansion with interiors and exteriors that cost a fortune. But it never felt like a home. Inside, her father was on the couch, going through files on the coffee table, a wine glass not far from his hand. Kira hesitated in the doorway. Her pulse quickened as she forced herself forward, raised her hands, and signed carefully, Good evening, Dad. He didn’t look at her. Didn’t blink. But she knew he’d seen. She reached for the pad and pen on the side table. She wrote quickly, her letters shaky. Can I go to the hospital? I don’t feel well. She placed it on the table in front of him. He stared at it for a long moment, his fingers drumming slowly against the glass of wine. Then, without lifting his gaze, he muttered, “Can’t you talk, Kira? Huh?” She shook her head, eyes downcast as she remembered the series of event that led to her becoming mute she remembered how her mother beat her to the inch of her life at the age of thirteen just because she ate a cupcake that was meant for Leah. She remembered how she screamed so hard her throat hurt, how her mother threatened her to keep shut while beating her mercilessly or else she would kill her and how she little by little she stopped talking, stopped making a sound even if she if it hurts being beaten by her mother or bullied by Leah. Her father sighed, irritated. “Pathetic. You’re not a little girl anymore kira. Start acting like an adult.” She swallowed hard, throat burning. She scribbled quickly on the notepad. It hurts to breathe. He snorted. “Don’t be so dramatic. You’re always looking for attention.” His eyes flicked toward her, cold and flat. “You don’t see Leah whining every time she scrapes her knee.” Kira's hands clenched around the pen. She wrote again. Please. I think my rib— He cut her off with a sharp gesture. “Enough.” His voice dropped lower. “Don’t embarrass this family with your nonsense.” Kira stood there, frozen, until he waved her away like she was something foul in the air. “ if you have a problem tell your mother, I’m a very busy man,” he said. Her fingers tightened painfully around the pen. She wanted to scream. Instead, she nodded once and turned away. The footsteps behind her came fast. Sharp clicks against the hardwood. Leah breezed in, all gloss and fake sweetness. “Dad,” she sang, draping herself over the couch, “will you take me shopping tomorrow? I need new shoes for the party.” Their father’s gaze softened instantly. He sat up, smiling. “Of course, sweetheart. You deserve it. Tell your mother to come too. A family day.” Kira’s throat closed. She dug her nails into her palms until they bit skin. “Yay!” Leah squealed, clapping her hands. “You’re the best, Daddy.” Kira turned away, the familiar ache deepening into something darker. Emptier. In her room, she sat at her desk and stared at her laptop, the glow from the screen blurring in her eyes. She blinked furiously, forcing her fingers to move. College applications. Deadlines. Escape routes. Please. Please let me get out of here. Her hand trembled as she reached for the only photo she kept. Her grandmother’s face smiled back at her, kind and warm. The only person who had ever loved her without strings. Without cruelty. “If only you were still alive, Nana,” Kira whispered, her voice almost foreign in her own ears. “I wouldn’t be here.” She brushed her thumb over the worn frame, closing her eyes. Her mother’s words still echoed in her mind. “You ruin everything. Why did I ever give birth to you.” A soft knock made her freeze. No one knocked here. The door creaked open, and her mother stepped inside. Sweet perfume filled the room like smoke. Kira’s stomach twisted. Her gaze swept over her like a blade. “What are you doing?” Her voice was low. Dangerous. Kira sat still, her hands pressed flat on her lap. Her mother stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “You sit in here all day staring at that computer like it’s going to save you.” Her lip curled. “It won’t.” Kira didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. “You’re a waste,” her mother whispered whispered, circling her chair. “You don’t speak. You don’t smile. You make people uncomfortable. Do you understand how exhausting that is for the rest of us? Carrying you like dead weight?” Kira’s pulse thundered in her ears. “You’re a stain,” she continued, her voice silky and cruel. “People look at you and they feel sorry for us. Do you think we want that? Pity?” Her fingers grazed Kira’s shoulder, nails biting into flesh. “You should be grateful we keep you here. If I had my way, you’d be rotting in some hospital for the broken.” Kira clenched her jaw. She didn’t dare speak. Didn’t dare react. Her hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of Kira’s hair, yanking her back so hard tears stung her eyes. “You ungrateful little b***h,” she hissed. “I should’ve drowned you when I had the chance.” Kira’s breath hitched. She didn’t fight. Fighting made it worse. “You belong to us,” she whispered, nails digging deeper. “You will do what we say. Marry who we tell you.” Her face hovered close, breath hot and poisonous. “No one wants you, Kira. No one will ever want you. You’re broken.” She shoved her back so hard she nearly toppled from the chair. “You’ll always be nothing,” she spat. The door slammed shut behind her. Kira sat there, shaking, breath ragged. And then her phone buzzed. She glanced down. Unknown Number: Meet me at the park. Tomorrow . Kira’s heart skipped. Another buzz. Unknown Number: Come alone.