Hollow of Silence

Introduction

Quinn Rocker was almost normal. Key word: almost.

She had a special talent for fighting. Knife fights, gun fights, sword fights, especially firing a bow. She was strong and could easily overpower most opponents.

Several trophies from various championships were on display on a shelf in her apartment's living room. The most numerous of the trophies were wrestling and archery first-place awards.

So yeah, Quinn had her special interests. Anything athletic or mechanical, she enjoyed it. She was twenty-two years old, fresh from getting a bachelor's degree in engineering. Maybe someday she would go back for her master's, but certainly not today.

She paid double the amount of money four years ago to attend a special university that was for people with the same problem as her: deafness and hearing loss.

Quinn couldn't hear anything. If one were to scream in her ear, she wouldn't hear it. She would only feel the vibrations of the sound waves. She communicated primarily through sign language and writing her words in a notebook. She was also very good at communicating via facial expressions. She could even read lips with fairly good accuracy.

She spent most of her time in her room with her laptop, writing articles. There wasn't much she could do with her degree as a deaf person, but she made a living.

The apartment was small, with only one bedroom and one bathroom. Its kitchen was the bare minimum, barely having space for the microwave. But Quinn needed the microwave. She wasn't allowed to have a coffee machine in her apartment, and she thrived off of caffeine. So her only option was microwave coffee.

Of course, Quinn didn't complain. She knew that there were others who were less fortunate and, although she knew it didn't invalidate any annoyance she felt, she decided to suck it up and deal with it.

One thing that was always in the back of Quinn's mind was a nagging anxiety. What if the fire alarm went off? Would one of her neighbors help her? Or what if the police came knocking at her door, and had to force their way in because they knew she was home but not answering the door? Would they be angry, or understand?

Quinn, as mentioned earlier, was only twenty-two years old on the fateful day that changed everything. She had big, deep, chocolate-brown eyes that were easy to get lost in. Her hair was straight, midnight black, and fell to her shoulders before neatly cutting off. She was biracial; her mother had been Caucasian and her father had been Black, leaving Quinn as a mixture between the two. It looked quite nice.

She was five feet and eleven inches tall, with a somewhat muscular build and a bit of a flatter chest and rear, but she didn't mind. It was easier to deal with, not having breasts pulling their weight on her back. She had a "resting bitch face", as many would call it. Her typical attire was a white t-shirt, black jogging shorts, white socks, and black sneakers. Of course, always with her black backpack on her back.

Quinn was sitting on the couch with her backpack next to her, reading an email and sipping her coffee. It was eleven o'clock in the morning. Then she saw something out of the corner of her eye.

She was grateful to have a first-floor apartment, as it gave her a clear view of the alley nearby. Now, she could see a man with two knives and a young Black woman. The man appeared to be threatening her.

Quinn set her laptop down, grabbed her favorite dagger, and ran out into the alleyway. She couldn't hear what the man was saying, but clearly it was loud enough for him not to hear her approach.

Quinn pounced, wrapping her arm around the man's neck and allowing the blade of her knife to touch his throat. She remained entirely silent as he repeatedly tapped her arm, asking for release. When she let him go, he fell to the ground and scrambled away.

The woman said something that Quinn couldn't hear. With a soft smile, Quinn pointed to her ear.

The woman made a surprised face, then used her hands to sign out, Thank you.

You're welcome, Quinn signed back, smiling. What is your name?

Udaya. What is your name?

Quinn. Nice name.

Thank you.

Quinn smiled again, then asked, Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?

No. Did he hurt you?

No. He would not have been able to. Did you see the way he ran.

They both laughed.

Would you like to come have some coffee at my apartment? Quinn asked.

That sounds nice. Maybe you could help me study for my college classes, Udaya responded with a grin.

Quinn grinned back, leading the way to her apartment, Udaya close behind.

Yes, there will be actual dialogue in this story. For now, the italics are for when they are signing to each other.

Quick descriptions:
Quinn: 5'11, gymnast sort of build, athletic, shoulder-length black hair, brown eyes, plain outfits, deaf, good at fighting, biracial.

Udaya: 5'7, hourglass build, long black hair, super dark brown eyes, Black, good with a gun, smart and creative.

PUBLISHED 8/17/22