Silent Heart, Hidden Desires

4

The air in the house feels thick with unspoken tension. It's been a week since Mom uttered those words, and the silence that followed has been deafening.  Each creak of the floorboards, each clink of dishes, each muffled argument from Mom and Dad feels like a hammer blow to my already shattered heart. It's like the walls are closing in, suffocating me with the weight of their unspoken anger.

I can’t escape the echoes of their voices, their words replaying in my mind like a broken record.  “Hindi kita anak.” The sting of those words is still fresh, a raw wound that refuses to heal.  And then there’s Ravenna, always lurking in the shadows, whispering poison into Mom's ear, twisting the truth, making sure I’m always the target of their rage.

I try to function, to pretend everything is normal. But the world feels distorted, like I'm walking through a funhouse mirror, everything warped and out of place. I stumble through my days, a ghost in my own home, my heart a leaden weight in my chest.

The maid’s knock on my door jolts me from a fitful sleep. I’ve been crying again, my pillow soaked with tears.  I know it’s not my fault, but the guilt is a suffocating blanket, wrapping me in its suffocating embrace.

I follow the maid through the darkened halls, my heart pounding in my chest. The air is heavy with anticipation, and I feel a cold dread creeping up my spine.  I know something is wrong. I can feel it in the way the maid avoids my gaze, in the hushed whispers that follow me down the hallway.

The living room is bathed in an eerie, unnatural light. Mom and Ravenna are beaming at me, their smiles too wide, too bright, like they’re hiding something sinister. Dad is hunched over, his head bowed, his face shrouded in shadow.

“We’re going to sell you,” Mom says, her voice laced with a chilling indifference.

The words hit me like a physical blow. My breath catches in my throat, and the world around me spins.  I stumble back, my legs weak beneath me, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird.

“W-What? W-Why?” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

“We’ve decided to sell you.” Mom repeats, her smile widening. “We can’t afford to keep you anymore.”

I turn to Dad, my eyes pleading for some kind of explanation, some shred of comfort.  But his gaze remains fixed on the floor, his silence a deafening confirmation of her words.

“N-No!” I cry out, my voice cracking with despair. “No, please! D-Don’t sell me!”

I fall to my knees, my body wracked with sobs. I reach out to Dad, desperate for him to hold me, to tell me it’s not true. But his hands remain clenched in his lap, his body rigid, his face a mask of stony indifference.

“It’s true.” he finally says, his voice flat and emotionless.

The world around me collapses. It’s only a single word, a simple nod, but it feels worse than any physical pain. It’s the rejection from the person I thought loved me most.  It’s the betrayal that cuts deeper than any physical wound.

I wipe away my tears, trying to regain my composure. But my body trembles uncontrollably, and my heart feels like it’s about to burst out of my chest.

“O-okay,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “I-It’s okay, Amara. E-Everything will be alright.”

But the words feel hollow, empty, like a lie I’m telling myself to keep from falling apart.

Mom’s smile widens. “You’ll be leaving tomorrow. Pack your things.”

I nod, my body numb. I walk back to my room, the weight of their words crushing me. I collapse on my bed, the sobs returning, this time a silent, desperate cry for a love that has vanished.