The Dept of Silence
Chapter 1: The Debt of Silence
The rhythmic beep... beep... beep... of the heart monitor was the only heartbeat in Room 309. Outside, the hallways of St. James Hospital hummed with the chaos of life, but inside these four walls, time had simply stopped.On the narrow bed lay a woman who looked more like a fallen angel than a patient. Her skin was the color of rich mahogany, now paled by the fluorescent lights, and her long, dark hair was spread across the white pillow like a mourning veil. She was barely twenty, a girl who should have been chasing dreams, yet here she was—drifting in a nameless coma.
She had arrived in the middle of a storm, clutching her stomach and screaming in a language the nurses couldn't identify. Two days of agonizing labor followed, a battle she fought in a terrifying, lonely silence. No husband paced the waiting room. No mother sat by her side whispering prayers. She was a ghost who had walked off the streets to give birth.
And then, the miracle happened. Or perhaps, the tragedy.
Doctor Hoffman stood at the foot of the bed, his face etched with a guilt he couldn't quite hide. In the nursery next door, three identical miracles were wailing for a mother who couldn't hear them. Three baby girls. Triplets.
"We can't keep them here, Arthur," the Head Matron whispered, her voice sharp as a blade. "The mother is drifting further away every hour. No name, no family, and three hungry mouths to feed. We have to move now."
Doctor Hoffman adjusted his glasses, his heart heavy. "And the arrangements?"
"The first girl is going to the Anderson s," the Matron said, checking a file. "Real estate moguls. They’ve been waiting for a girl with her features for years. She’ll be draped in silk before the sun sets."
She turned a page. "The second girl is going to the Jones family. They’re old money, political royalty. She’ll have a nanny, a tutor, and a future paved in gold."
Doctor Hoffman looked at the third bassinette—the smallest of the three triplets, who was currently staring up at the ceiling with wide, curious eyes. "And what about her? Surely the Jones or the Anderson's would take her too? They’re sisters, Matron. They shouldn't be parted."
"The Anderson's wanted a single child. The Jones wanted a spare, but they won't take a third," the Matron snapped, closing the file with a definitive thud. "The paperwork is signed, Arthur. Two girls go to the light. This one... well, the city orphanage has a bed for her. It’s for the best. She won’t even remember she had sisters."
The doctor looked back at the tiny baby. She didn't have a name yet, only a plastic tag that read 'Infant C'. As the dawn light broke through the hospital window, he realized he was witnessing a crime disguised as a mercy.
"God help her," he whispered.
"God has nothing to do with it," the Matron replied, picking up the third baby. "This is simply Fate."
