Silent chains

Whispers of excape

Chapter Two

Kira stared at the screen, her pulse pounding in her ears.

Unknown Number: Meet me at the park. Tomorrow.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling. A wrong number… it had to be. But deep down, something gnawed at her. Nothing in her life was accidental.

With shaky hands, she typed back.

Who are you?

The minutes stretched. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched the screen, willing it to stay dark—willing it to light up. Either would be terrifying.

Finally, the phone buzzed again.

Unknown Number: Just be at the park by noon. Come alone.

No name. No explanation. Just that.

Kira exhaled shakily and let the phone fall onto her bed, staring at it like it might explode. Her ribs ached as she pulled her knees up to her chest, curling in on herself. Was this some cruel prank? Leah was bored often enough to invent new ways to torment her. But something about the message… it didn’t feel like Leah.

Downstairs, laughter drifted up. The bright, brittle sound of Leah’s giggles, their father’s deep chuckle in response. Another family dinner without her. Kira’s stomach twisted painfully, a loud growl reminding her it had been days since she’d eaten. She winced, pressing her arms tighter around herself, ignoring the hollow ache.

No one would call her down. They never did.

Even the maids didn’t bother with her anymore. She wasn’t a guest in this house. She was a ghost.

Kira sat back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. The faint noise of clinking silverware and soft conversation floated through the floorboards, distant and unreachable. She listened to it fade until the house grew quiet again, a heavy, suffocating silence pressing in on all sides.

Her laptop’s glow cut through the dark as she powered it up again. Deadlines. Escape routes. She scoured the endless lists of scholarships, desperately searching for anything that might get her out of this place. Her ribs throbbed with every breath, but she didn’t stop. She filled out applications until her fingers cramped, until the screen blurred with exhaustion and frustration.

Please, she thought. Please let one of these work.

By the time she shut down her laptop, her eyelids were heavy. She stretched out on the bed, pulling the thin blanket up over her aching body. For a moment, she let herself imagine something better. A place where she was safe. A place where no one sneered at her for existing.

Sleep dragged her under.

Kira woke suddenly, her throat raw and dry, her stomach twisting in pain. Midnight. She glanced at the clock glowing faintly on her nightstand. 12:37 a.m.

She hadn’t eaten all day. Or yesterday. Or the day before that.

The hunger was sharper than usual. More dangerous.

Sliding out of bed slowly, careful not to jostle her ribs, Kira tiptoed to the door. The house was silent now. Not even the faint sound of the television from the living room. She crept down the hallway, each creak of the hardwood floor making her breath catch.

When she reached the kitchen, she found it dark and cold. The air smelled faintly of something roasted from dinner. Her stomach growled again, loud enough to echo in the emptiness. She flipped the light switch on.

Nothing on the counters. Nothing left out.

Swallowing hard, she crossed to the pantry door and tugged on the handle. Locked. She already knew it would be, but still, the hollow click made her stomach sink. The maids had done as instructed, locking up anything she might get into. Her mother’s latest punishment.

Her fingers scraped uselessly at the edges of the doorframe. No food. Nothing.

After a moment, she filled a glass with cold water from the tap and drank it slowly, trying to quiet the ache inside her. She wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve and stood there for a long time, staring at the place where the pantry door met the wall.

She was invisible in this house. Even the walls pretended she wasn’t there.

Turning off the light, Kira padded back down the hall, back to her room. She crawled into bed, the emptiness in her stomach a familiar weight. She closed her eyes tightly and willed herself to fall asleep.

But the next morning came too fast.

And so did noon.

Kira stood at her window, staring out toward the gates of the mansion. Beyond them, the street twisted down toward the park. Her phone was clutched in her hand, slick with sweat.

What if it’s a trap? What if someone’s waiting to hurt me?

But then, they already did that here. Every day.

Her heart raced as she made her decision.

She slipped on her hoodie, the one that hid her bruises best, and slid her phone into the pocket. Her fingers brushed over the small photo of her Nana that she always kept close. She stuffed it into her backpack, like a charm. Like a prayer.

Then she snuck out.

The park was almost empty.

Grey skies hung low over the old playground. Swings creaked softly in the wind. A man walking his dog nodded politely as he passed her, but she kept her eyes down, scanning every shadow, every corner.

No one was there.

She checked the time. 12:05.

She took a slow, careful breath, trying to ignore the pain in her side.

“Kira.”

She froze.

The voice was quiet but familiar.

Her head snapped toward it, eyes wide.

By the old oak tree near the pond stood a man. Hands in his coat pockets, glasses perched on his nose. His dark hair was tousled, streaked with grey at the temples. His face was tired but kind.

“Jace?” Kira whispered, stunned.

He nodded, stepping closer. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“What… why are you here?” Her throat felt tight as the questions tumbled out. “How did you—why now?”

Jace exhaled slowly, pulling an envelope from his coat. “I’m sorry it’s taken this long.”

Kira stared at the thick paper, recognizing her Nana’s handwriting on the edge of it.

“I’m your grandmother’s lawyer. She left you something. Something important.”

He handed her the envelope, along with a set of keys attached to a brass keychain shaped like a mountain.

Kira’s fingers shook as she opened it, skimming the documents inside.

A house. In Colorado. Thirty million dollars.

Her knees nearly gave out. “I… this can’t be right.”

“It’s real,” Jace said gently. “She left it all to you.”

“But… why? How? She never told me—”

“I was there,” he cut in quietly. “At the funeral. I saw what your parents did to you. How they treated you. I was going to give this to you then, but… I didn’t think it was safe.”

Tears blurred her vision. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Thank you for waiting. For… everything.”

Jace’s expression softened. “Take care of yourself, Kira. And make sure they don’t find out. Not until you’re ready to leave.”

He pressed a business card into her hand. “This is my personal number. Call me when you get there. I have a copy of the will, so you won’t have trouble.”

Kira clutched the card and keys tightly, nodding through her tears. “I… I will.”

“Good.” He gave her one last, solemn look. “Be careful.”

And then he walked away, leaving her standing there, shaking with disbelief.

She sat on the old swing set for a long time after he left, the documents clutched to her chest. Tears streamed down her face, silent and hot. For the first time in forever, something had changed.

Hope.

By the time she snuck back home, the sun was sinking behind the clouds, turning the sky a deep, bruised purple. She hid the envelope and keys deep in her backpack, stuffing it behind the loose board in her closet before carefully stepping through the front door.

Her mother was sitting at the dining room table, sipping tea like a queen on a throne.

“Good evening, Mom,” Kira signed, keeping her movements calm. Small. Safe.

Her mother’s gaze snapped to her. “Where the hell are you coming from?” she snarled, standing suddenly.

“I… I…” Kira’s fingers stumbled over the signs, her heart thudding painfully in her chest.

She didn’t get another word out.

The glass cup flew across the room, shattering against her head with a sharp crack. Pain exploded behind her eyes as she stumbled, falling hard to her knees.

“You’re getting your blood all over the place!” her mother screamed. “Clean this up, you good-for-nothing waste of space!”

Kira bit back a sob, dragging herself upright and grabbing a towel from the sideboard. She wiped up the tea and glass shards with shaking hands, blood dripping from the cut on her forehead.

When it was done, she stood in the kitchen for a moment, swaying, before heading upstairs.

In her room, she locked the door and collapsed onto the floor, breathing hard.

She cleaned the wound as best she could, wincing as the antiseptic stung. Then she opened her laptop with trembling fingers, desperate to distract herself. Anything to take her mind somewhere else.

She checked her email.

And there it was.

Congratulations!

You have been awarded a full-ride scholarship to the University of Colorado, Business Program.

Kira stared at the screen, heart pounding in her chest with excitement

Just then she heard a rapid knock on her door.