THE MUTE GIRL

Chapter 01

I open my eyes and close them back immediately. One breath. Two. Three. A metallic smell swirled all around the room, fighting its way into my nostrils, making them flare. I look around tentatively and press my lips together at the sight in front of me.

The ringing in my ears soon dies down and what follows is worse than what lies before me.

Silence.

Complete and utter silence. A silence that slithers around my bare ankles, up my legs and torso, till it makes its way to my throat.

Choking.

Squeezing.

My eyes flutter shut as I let the evil silence consume me, and a faint smile makes its way onto my face.

"What do you see?" a deep voice breaks through the silence, making it pull away from my throat.

"Blood." I choke out.

"Where are you?" The voice continues.

"Home." I gasp out, clawing for air.

"Is anyone with you?" the voice asks.

"Mom and Dad." I can breathe again.

"What are they doing?" silence begins to retreat.

"Laying...just laying there in the blood." silence threatens to return but the strong voice stops it.

"Are they trying to help someone?"

"No." It's pulling away now, feathering my toes.

"Why?"

"Because they need help."

"Why don't you help them?"

Nothing.

Just as quickly as silence had the chance to kiss the tips of my toes it rushed back up my body, squeezing harder than ever before.

"Imani?" this time silence stayed. A hand pushed through the silence that coated my skin.

"Imani, I want you to wake up now." Snap. Bright lights. Him.

"Imani, we got a lot more done today!" He broke into a white smile that contrasted his dark chocolate skin and gently squeezed my hand. I smiled back and nodded eagerly in agreement.

His face dropped and mine followed suit. Did I upset him? I tried to relax the way he asked. Was I too nervous? He must have sensed my anxiety because his face changed and he gave me a reassuring grin, followed by another squeeze.

"I think we're done for today, don't you?" he asked. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came so I nodded.

He held the door open for me and I looked up at him hopefully. He just raised his eyebrows and asked me if I needed anything else. Defeated, I shook my head and walked to the lobby.

The receptionist called for the next appointment and a short, brown-skinned woman rose. She pulled down her red pencil skirt that showed all her curves and tugged the collar of her too small button up shirt to show more of her cleavage. In one swift motion she pushed up her breasts and walked past me and into Dr. Martin's office. He gave a smirk to his receptionist and told her to take her lunch early. She rolled her eyes and smiled back, calling him a dog under her breath.

I frowned and looked down at myself. In my loose fitting jeans, plain t-shirt, black leather jacket and Retro 5 Jordan, I knew I was no comparison to her. Dr. Martin liked women who wore dresses and skirts and tops that showed cleavage. Not tomboys that only owned a pair of heels for Easter Sunday and t-shirts that she can share with her boyfriend. I sighed as I walked to my car and drove home, my petty crush with my psychologist on my mind.