"I'm sorry, Aria. Your parents did not survive."
Silence.
"Can you say your name?"
Silence.
"Can you understand me?"
She nods her head.
"Can you speak at all?"
Silence.
The doctor, with his solemn expression, begins to explain the damage Aria's brain incurred during the accident that claimed the lives of the two most important people in her life.
Broca's aphasia is what he calls it.
"The part of your brain that is responsible for speech has been severely damaged. Aria, you may never speak again."
Silence.
One second. That's all it took for everything to be lost.
Her parents. Her voice.
How can a singer sing without a voice?
How can a daughter be without her parents?
Her parents, who supported her passion.
Her parents, who paid her tuition to attend college to become a professional singer because they believed in her. They were proud of her. They loved her.
One second.
That's all it took.
And now she's alone.
And it's... quiet.