Chapter 1: Silence
6th May, 2024- Florida
The woman sat stiffly on the small black chair, her hands folded so tightly in her lap that her knuckles had turned pale. The room was quiet, the kind of quietness that pressed against the ears. Grey painted walls, blue curtains filtering in soft light, and a brown desk separating her from the woman opposite her.
Madam Lawrence Green sat behind the desk,pen positioned above her notebook.
“When my son was eight,”the woman began, her voice low and tired, “we went on a boat cruise in Miami. A family vacation.”
She paused, swallowing.
“It was beautiful at first. We laughed. We swam. We played games on the ship. It was one of those nights you think you'll remember forever.”
Her eyes dropped to the floor.
“And then the ship hit something.”
Madam Green stopped writing.
“There was a sound,”the woman continued,“deep and heavy like the ocean itself had struck us. The ship tilted. People screamed. Everything turned into panic.”
She breathed in swoly.
“I was in our room with my husband and our other children. But my middle child....Riley”, she suddenly paused in deep shock.
“... He wasn't there.”
Her voice cracked, but she forced the words out.
“We searched. We shouted his name. But the alarms were blaring, people were running, and the captain was shouting through the speakers for everyone to get to the safety boats.”
Madam Green leaned forward slightly.
“My husband told me to take the other children to the assembly point,”the woman said. “He said he would find our son.”
She shook her head faintly.
“I wanted to stay. I begged him. But he looked at me and said everything would be okay.”
Silence filled the room.
“And the ship leaned further,”she whispered. “Water rushed in. People fell. The ocean swallowed us.”
She lifted her eyes to Madam Green.
“That's the last thing I remember.”
She woke up two days later.
Everything around was white. Machines beeped softly. Her body felt heavy, distant like it didn't belong to her anymore. Her aunt was there.
“They told me to rest,” she said softly. “They told me everything was fine.”
Her fingers trembled. “But when I asked about my husband,William...about my children...they avoided my questions.”
When her husband finally came, his leg was injured, but he was alive. The children were alive. Only one question mattered.
“I asked him he he had found our son, Riley”
She closed her eyes. “He said no.”
The body was found days later. Floating, wearing a life jacket. “They didn't let me see him,” she said. “They said his condition was too bad.”
Hours passed outside the ICU. Machines went in. Machines went out. Nurses whispered. Doctors avoided eye contact. At eleven that night, the Chief surgeon finally spoke to them.
“Your son survived longer than we expected,” the doctor said carefully. “Too long...for a child.”
He explained the damage –the cold, the salt water, the lack food. The coma.
“But he's alive,”the woman said desperately. The doctor nodded slowly. “He's alive. But we don't yet know what parts of him will return.”
She gripped her William's left hand.
“I prayed,” she whispered. “Day and night.”
“Days later, just as the doctor had said, he woke up,” she said softly. “God answered our prayers.”
For a moment, her lips curved into something like a smile.
“He laughed again. He spoke. He smiled.”
Madam Green waited.
“But something was missing,” the woman continued. “It was like part of him stayed behind the sea.” Her hands tightened.
“He stopped talking as much. He avoided people. He went quiet.” She looked up, eyes glassy.
“That's when my son changed.”
Madam Green gently set her pen down. Her eyes abit dry. She took a deep sigh, gently removed her glasses and softly rubbed her eyes and had them back on.
“And that,”she said, looking at the document forms “is why you're here Miss Livingstone.”
15th August, 2024-Present Day
The morning moved gently through the Livingstone house. It wasn't a big house, just enough for a family that had leaned to live close. The wallsshower their, the furniture carried quiet marke of long use, but the space felt warm and familiar. Sounds traveled easily here.
In the kitchen, Rose moved between the stove and sink, calling reminders the hallway. Jin ran past her in uneven socks, laughing as she searched for a school bag she had always misplaced. Down the hall, Luke stood near the doorway, adjusting his jacket, keys clinging softly in his hand.
Joseph folded a newspaper in the sitting room, his voice calm as he gave Luke a final instruction before the door closed halfway.
Life had moved on.
At the far end of the house, Riley sat at the piano. It was old, its surface worn smoothly years of use. He pressed a single key, softly. Then another. The sound barely reached beyond the room. His fingers moved carefully, never lingering too long, as if the music itself needed permission to exist.
Footsteps passed the door way. Riley stopped. He lifted his hands from.the keys and rested them in his lap, listening until the house settled agin. He closed the piano lid gently, the quietness returning almost immediately.
At the breakfast table, he ate without rushing. When spoken to, he answered. When Jin leaned against him, he didn't pull away. He rested a hand lightly on her shoulder, steady, familiar. Rose watched him sometimes without speaking.
Riley knew this house—its sounds, its rhythms. He sat on the edge of the piano bench, wearing headphones and a soft instrumental tone playing, slow, gentle, almost whispering. He pressed one key lightly, then another, matching the rhythm he heard, never loud enough to carry through the house. Luke glanced down the hall.
“Riley, your walking Jin to school today, right?”
Riley slid one earcuff off, the music fading, “Yeah,”he said.
He placed the headphone back over his ear.
Eastford High School
Eastford high school stood firm behind its iron gates, old but well kept. The buildings were wide and low, painted in pale colours that had faded evenly with time. Tall trees lined the compound, their branches stretched over the walkways worn smooth by years of students passing through.
Classroom windows reflected the morning light, some open, some shut. Notice boards were pinned with old achievements and new announcements, edges curled from the sun. The air carried the mix of dust, chalk, and early voices -familiar, lived in, settled.
It was the kind of school that had seen generations come and go.
Just then, Riley walked through the gate with his bag slung low on one shoulder, earphones in, volume not loud enough to enjoy -just loud enough to keep the world out. Students passed him in clusters, laughter bumping into him and moving on. No one stopped. No one waited. A few glanced at him, then away.
The bell rang, sharp and impatient.
Students flooded the corridor, voices bouncing off lockers, shoes scraping the tiled floor. Riley moved through it like he wasn't part of it. He slipped into class just before the door shut. A few heads turned.
“Morning!” the teacher said without looking at up. “I am Mr. Nell Fisher, your teacher for History. Books out,”
Riley sat by the window. The glass was cold against his arm. Outside the sky was dull, heavy with clouds that looked like they had forgotten how to move. The lesson went on.
Words filled the room, but they slid past him even though it felt like no one else cared either. His eyes stayed on the page, yet nothing settled. The letters blurred, rearranged themselves, dissolved.
Nell paused mid - sentence and looked straight at Riley.
“You. By the window.”
The room shifted. Chairs creaked.
“What do you think the writer is afraid of here?”
Riley opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
Mark, a boy near the back whispered,“Here we go.” The teacher chuckled.“Anyone else to share with us, someone seems.....distracted.” A student later answered. Nell looked at Riley
“You really should try paying attention next time. This isn't preschool.”
Laughter spread across the room, lighter this time. Just enough to sting. Riley nodded once, eyes back on his book. His hands were trembling, but no one noticed.
In the next class, the teacher, Jessica Murray paused near his desk.
“You okay?” the voice was lower this time, almost careful. Riley shrugged. The teacher placed the worksheet on his desk last, tapping it lightly. “You can submit it later.”
No one laughed. No one commented. The moment passed like it never happened, but Riley felt it sit somewhere in his chest.
By the final bell, his head felt heavy. Students poured out of the building, eager and loud. Riley waited until the hallway thinned before leaving. Outside, the air felt colder than it should have been. He took the long way home.
Behind the old science block, footsteps followed him.
“Hey!” He stopped. Three boys stepped closer. Faces he knew. Voices he recognised. Mark, Nick and Ande. Boys who had known him long enough to know he wouldn't fight back. “Still pretending you dont hear us?” Mark shouted smiling with his friends. One blocked the path. “Why are you always like this?” another asked teasing. “You think you're better than us?”
Riley shook his head, words crowded throat and stayed their.
Nick shoved him into the wall, his bag slipped from his shoulder and hit the ground. Mark punched him a couple of times. Not enough to draw blood, just enough to hurt. “Mark hurry, your mom will see us,” And muttered.
They left laughing. Riley stayed where he was for a moment, pressed against the wall, breathing shallowly. His hands trembled as he bent to pick up his bag. When he finally started walking again, the path was empty.
His eyes were glassy, unfocused.
No one asked where he'd been.
Reaching at home, Riley closed the door to his room and sank onto the edge of his bed.
The music still hummed in his ears, but it felt hollow, like a distant echo. He pressed his hands to his face, the tears coming quietly, as if they were afraid of making a sound.
All the shame, all the fear, all the weight of today pressed down on him. The laughter at school. The shoves. The whispers. The way no one had seen him at all.
He let his head fall forward, and for the first time that day, he prayed. Quietly. Small, trembling words that only he could hear:
“Please… let this be enough. Please… ”
The room was still. The music flowed softly. Outside, the sun sank lower. Inside, Riley’s world was tiny, cold — but for the first time in a long while, he had whispered hope.
