Silent chains

Breaking point

Chapter 3

The knock came fast. Sharp. Like fists pounding a warning.

Kira froze, her heart thundering in her chest as she sat at her desk. The pale glow of her computer monitor was the only light in the room, illuminating the files she had just finished encrypting. The documents stared back at her—each one a piece of her escape plan, her way out.

But the pounding came again. Louder. Fiercer. It wasn’t a knock. It was a demand.

She sucked in a sharp breath and shut the computer off with a flick of her fingers. The room plunged into darkness, save for the moonlight slicing through the curtains. Her pulse hammered in her ears as she grabbed the documents from the desk—the card, the house keys, the will. She clutched them to her chest for one breathless second before she stumbled to the far corner of the room, where the floorboard was loose. The same place she’d hidden all her secrets for years.

They won’t check here, she told herself, forcing her trembling fingers to lift the board. She shoved the items deep inside, heart pounding harder with every second wasted. She pressed the board back into place just as the doorknob rattled violently.

A fist slammed against the door again.

“I’m coming,” Kira whispered to herself, but her voice cracked halfway through. She wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt and forced her legs to move. She was almost to the door when it slammed open, crashing against the wall with a sickening crack.

Leah stood there. Wild-eyed. Her chest heaved with shallow, rapid breaths. Strands of dark hair clung to her damp forehead.

“Where is it?” Leah spat, storming into the room like a hurricane.

Kira took an instinctive step back, signing frantically with shaky hands, Where is what?

But Leah didn’t care. She was already shoving the desk chair aside, her hands curled into fists.

A shadow loomed behind her. Colder. Crueler. Their mother stepped into the doorway, her lips thin, her jaw clenched so tightly it seemed carved from stone.

“The necklace,” their mother said, her voice low. Controlled. More terrifying than a scream. “My jade necklace.”

Kira shook her head in confusion, signing again, slower, desperate for them to understand. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Her fingers trembled so violently the words blurred together.

Leah’s eyes narrowed, her lip curling. “Stop playing with me,” she sneered. “With those hands of yours.”

She crossed the room in two strides and slapped Kira hard across the face. The crack of it echoed in the small room.

Kira reeled back, her cheek stinging hot. Her vision swam.

“You little thief,” Leah hissed. “I saw you. You went into Mum’s room today. Don’t deny it.”

Kira shook her head wildly, holding her hands up as if they could shield her. No! she signed frantically. I was just—

Her mother didn’t wait. Another slap, harder. Her sharp nails scraped Kira’s cheek as her palm connected. Blood filled Kira’s mouth. She collapsed to her knees, clutching her face.

“Don’t lie to me!” her mother barked, towering over her. “Ungrateful brat. After everything I’ve done for you. I should have left you in that hospital to rot.”

Kira’s ears rang. Her vision blurred. She tried to crawl back, to get away, but Leah grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her forward. A sharp cry tore from Kira’s throat as her scalp burned.

A kick slammed into her ribs. Then another. She gasped, air rushing out of her lungs in a painful wheeze.

“Where is it?” Leah shrieked. “Where is the necklace? Tell us!”

“I didn’t take it,” Kira signed, barely able to get her hand to moves. “I… I didn’t…”

Leah’s grip tightened in her hair. “Liar!” she screamed, yanking Kira’s head back so hard her neck wrenched painfully. “Mum, she’s lying. I told you. She’s always lying.”

Their mother’s face was inches from hers now. Her breath smelled of wine and something sour. “You stole from me,” she growled. “You stole from this family. And now you’re lying to my face?”

Kira whimpered, shaking her head. She raised her hands again, weakly. Please. I didn’t…

But it didn’t matter. Leah shoved her backward, and her mother’s boot came down hard—on her wrist.

The crack was loud. Sickening.

Kira screamed, the sound raw and primal as white-hot pain shot up her arm. She cradled her wrist to her chest, her fingers twitching uselessly. She couldn’t even sign anymore. She couldn’t move.

Her mother wasn’t done. Another kick to her side. Kira heard a rib crack. She choked on a sob as the pain stabbed through her chest.

“Where is it? Huh?” Leah was still screaming. “Where is the necklace? I know you took it! You always wanted Mum’s things!”

“I didn’t,” Kira thought. Her lips trembled as blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. “I swear… she tried to sign with her other wrist”

But it didn’t stop them. They dragged her across the floor, kicking her, screaming at her. She was no longer Kira. She was a punching bag. A thing. She tried to cover her head with her good arm, but it was no use.

And then, as quickly as it started, it stopped.

Kira lay there, gasping, her broken wrist throbbing in time with her heartbeat. Blood dripped onto the floorboards, each drop loud in the suffocating silence.

Leah stepped back, wiping sweat from her brow. Her mother spat on the ground beside Kira’s head.

“You’ll find it,” her mother hissed. “And when you do, you’ll bring it to me. Or next time, it’ll be worse.”

The door slammed shut.

Kira didn’t move. She couldn’t. Her body screamed in agony. Her chest felt like it was caving in. Her wrist… she couldn’t even look at it. She just lay there, her cheek pressed against the cold wood floor, her breath ragged.

The room was quiet now. Too quiet.

Tears slid from her swollen eyes, mixing with the blood on her face. She closed her eyes for a moment, just to block it all out.

But something inside her—something small and stubborn—kept whispering. Get up.

She opened her eyes again, dragging in a shuddering breath. She turned her head slowly, wincing at the sharp pain in her neck. There, by the bed, was the loose floorboard. Her hiding place.

Her good hand twitched. She forced herself to move, inch by agonizing inch.

Her fingers, slick with blood, dug into the edge of the wood. She pried it up with what little strength she had left. There, safe and untouched, were the documents. The card. The keys. The will.

She clenched her jaw, pushing past the pain. She pulled them out and pressed them to her chest. Her broken wrist hung limp, but it didn’t matter.

I can’t stay here anymore, she thought.

I have to get out. I have to.