The Unspoken Voice

Part 1

 A sharp glare striking through the iron rods of the window, pierces my eyes. My eyes cringe tight, leaving creases on my eyelids. It struggles to open. That’s the warden, doing her rounds to check if I’m still able.

               

After exactly 5 minutes, the window shutter sealed and the room was painted in darkness once again. The wind sweeps in through the loosely arranged floor boards. I feel the temperature drop. My chest tightens up, wheezily I struggle for breath.

With great difficulty, I drag myself across the floorboards to the corner of the room. Using a spear like stone, from the cracked wall, I engrave yet another mark. The stone screeches against the walls surface and silently fills the room with great despair . its been precisely 4 weeks and 5 days since I’ve been away. Away from my parents, my friends and Chad.

                         

I am Hazel. Hazel Guinivere. I am Brytenbach's small town girl, typically but more than that I’m my fathers little girl.I hail from a small family of just my parents and i. 18 years ago, my parents moved to Brytenbach and settled on the South side. Ever since, this is home to me. My father, George Guinivere, whom I affectionately address as Papa, works for the old Plastic Factory down town. My mama ,my mother, is a house wife and I go to college with the prince of the Codrero Empire- the family that owns the Plastic Factory.

Like any other Brytenbach kid, I ride my bicycle to school while rich brats like Chad show off with their exquisite cars. Chad and I have pretty much been high school sweethearts ( the puppy love type). But before most love stories , there are always that love-hate duo and of course Chad and I were of no exception. I’ve been crushing on him for as long as I can remember using braces from middle school. As much as head over heals I was over him, nobody’s perfect. Just one tiny detail which always seemed to touch the wrong nerve… his rich boy attitude!

As time passed by, we started getting to know each other . I must admit, he did leave me perplexed at first but I managed to get under his skin. Ever since then, we’re inseparable.

Occasionally, yet hesitantly ,after a great deal of persuading from Chad, I would go over to his house, which I refer to as mansion. We usually studied together. His step-mother Angela, Mrs Codrero II, didn’t really like having me around. Well mainly because I was her factory workers daughter and ‘who would want their employees offspring to be loitering around their house’, is what she would yell to Chad.Mrs Codrero I, unlike Angela, she simply adored me.

I felt guilty that Chad has to face his step mother’s wrath because of me but he didn’t seem to be bothered one bit. Guess Angela is not so angel after all.

As I sit on the coarse wooden chair, unable to hold back my tear ducts from overflowing, caused by the wooden splinters in my skin, flashbacks repeatedly played in my head. Are my parents still searching for me? Do they think I’ve left forever? Is mama okay?

But without a doubt , the third question was my main concern. Prior to the spaghetti horror I’ve been entangled in, Mama was ill. She required medical attention without any further delay.. I was her only hope. Could I be the reason that my mama could be…

My thoughts got disturbed by the indistinctly chatter that I could hear from the other side of the wall. Approaching footsteps, growing louder and louder. An unexpectedly joyous outburst of a middle aged man in a white laboratory coat. A renowned chemist and Papa's childhood friend. ‘why hello there little Hazel’

" Dr Evans, how could you do this to me? I have always been like a daughter to you!"

"Like? You aren’t. You’ve always been quiet an inquisitive child while growing up. I’m certain that your father would not be too pleased to hear that his princess has been snooping around in others dirty laundry."