silent Strength

Chapter 1

**The Unspoken Truth**

Ella sat by the window of her small, cluttered room, her eyes fixated on the world outside. The fading light of the evening sun cast long shadows, adding to the eerie silence that enveloped her. She had been mute for as long as she could remember. Her voice was taken from her at a young age, not by any physical ailment but by the trauma of her childhood. The verbal and physical abuse she endured from her parents left her without words, only a deep, haunting silence.

At seventeen, Ella was a shadow in her own home, trying to stay invisible, to avoid the wrath of her father and the cold neglect of her mother. But every bruise, every scar, was a reminder that she could never truly disappear.

She sighed softly, running her fingers over the worn edges of her journal. It was the only place she could pour out her thoughts, her fears, her dreams. Her journal was a sanctuary where she could communicate in ways she couldn't otherwise. Writing was her solace, a means of expressing what she could never voice. The pages were filled with her deepest fears and the faint glimmers of hope she dared to dream.

The room around her was a testament to her isolation. The wallpaper was peeling, the furniture old and battered. A single bookshelf, filled with her favorite novels and textbooks, stood in the corner. It was her escape, a way to lose herself in other worlds where heroes triumphed and justice prevailed.

Ella glanced at the clock, realizing it was almost time for her parents to return home. Her father’s shift at the factory ended soon, and her mother would come back from whatever it was she did during the day. Ella had long given up trying to understand her mother’s coldness, her detachment from her own daughter’s suffering.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the first sounds of footsteps echoed through the house. Ella’s heart rate quickened. She knew she had to be careful, to avoid drawing any attention. Her father’s temper was unpredictable, a storm waiting to unleash its fury on the slightest provocation.

She quietly closed her journal and slipped it under her mattress, a practiced motion she had perfected over the years. She then moved to the kitchen to prepare dinner, making sure everything was in order. Her father hated imperfections, and her mother would never lift a finger to help.

The front door creaked open, and Ella stiffened. She heard her father’s heavy boots clomping on the floor, each step sending a wave of dread through her. Her mother’s softer steps followed, a stark contrast that only heightened the tension.

“Ella!” her father barked, his voice already tinged with irritation. “Where’s dinner?”

She hurriedly set the table, her hands trembling slightly. Her father’s presence was a constant source of fear, his anger always simmering just below the surface. She kept her eyes downcast, avoiding any direct eye contact that might provoke him.

As they ate in silence, Ella’s mind wandered to the few moments of peace she found outside this oppressive home. She thought of the library, her sanctuary, and the books that transported her to different worlds. She longed for the day she could escape this place, to find her voice and live a life free from fear.

But for now, she remained silent, enduring the darkness that enveloped her world, hoping that someday, somehow, she would find a way to break free from the unspoken truth of her life.