"𝐌𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐦," softly uttered the doctor.
The diagnosis is clear; Alessia had lost the ability to utter a single word for nearly a month. Her parents, initially unconcerned, grew tense upon hearing the news, overcome by a blend of emotions that the...
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•━━ ❦ ━━☠━━ ❦ ━━•
After Lumi, Alessia was no longer afraid of the dark.
She could hear everything, the slightest footstep, the faintest swarm of insects between the planks, she could smell the tobacco choking her lungs, the salt, the powder and the ropes, she could even see the details between the wall and the door dial, the light filtering through the ceiling of the hold.
Thus, Alessia didn't fear the abnormal swaying of the room, nor the movements of those around her, she didn't fear the stifled breaths, the cries, the tears of children who had just been torn from their families or the land, chained up and herded into a dark room like merchandise or cattle....
No, what Alessia feared was what she wasn't able to see, what she wasn't able to smell or hear: she feared for her future.
The story was the same for each of them, and Alessia had listened to scraps of it in silence, standing still and pondering.
Her fellow sufferers, those like her, tied to the wall or belly down, were children. Young souls who had just been taken across a stormy sea to the Grand Line to be sold to the highest bidder.
