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[ season two, episode six ]
The world was a quiet place for Sage Whitman.
Everything was a silent hum in her broken ears ── nothing but a murmur of prolonged white noise that screeched soundlessly, on repeat like a broken record. For years, the sound of her own voice had been a mystery. Was it soft? Sharp? Loud? Irritating? A blessing from the angels? Sage would never know. It was an unresolved case, and it forever would be. Not that it mattered, regardless. Sage hadn't used her voice since early childhood, communicating only by using her hands and her emotions. Expressions. Body language. Eyes. You name it.
There was always a solution to her problems. She just got used to it.
Gunshots blasted all around. Bottles shattered into minuscule serrated fragments, bursting into a cloud of tinted glass, spitting into the air and splattering across the grass like a nuclear explosion. The others standing either side of Sage flinched with each resounding shot, arm jerking back due to the sheer force of the darting bullet flying from the muzzle. Their ears were ringing, burning, a shrill squeal penetrating their vibrating ear drums.
For Sage, it was quiet.
Her hands were coiled around a small handgun ── a Glock 19. It was fairly heavy, weighing down her poised slender arms, but not to the extent that she was incapable of holding it upright.
Unlike Carl.
Despite only a year's difference in age between the two, Carl's frame was much smaller. Weaker. More fragile ── like a glass doll. He struggled with a Glock, so Shane quickly swapped it out for a slightly smaller handgun that moulded between Carl's hands far more adequately than the option prior to that. He drew his lip between his teeth, glancing around.
Noticing Carl's reluctance, Sage gave the boy a subtle nod that she sincerely hoped would fuel his determination, pressing her lit matchstick to his unlit one, spreading the flickering flame of courage from one to another to boost his spirit. He smiled and looked away. Shane leaned down, saying something in his ear ── something annoyingly smug, she assumed based on the smirk.
Then, Carl took the shot.
The bullet scraped the grass directly below the target. He was close. Far closer than Sage's attempts had been thus far.
Shane clapped Carl on the shoulder, pressing his lips into a tight smile that was nothing short of disappointment. Sage watched his mouth form shapes, moving persistently, but the words spilling out were indecipherable. She only caught 'good' and 'again' from the man's assumed pep-talk.
