VOICELESS | SAMPLE

PROLOUGE

Xulon Press
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© 2022 by Megan Victoria

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Paperback ISBN-13: 978-1-66284-873-5 Ebook ISBN-13: 978-1-66284-874-2 

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voiceless (adj.) - mute; lacking the power or right to express an opinion or exert control over affairs

She sat in the dark, expressionless. Her back leaned against the tree trunk that sat in front of a running creek. Her clothes were bloodstained and ripped. She was dirty from head to toe. Twigs were snagged in her blonde hair and tear streaks stood out on her smudged face. She didn't look like a threat; she appeared to be unarmed, and there was no one else around. Where did she come from?

I took a step closer and stopped; she didn't see I was there. She looked like she needed help, but I didn't want to scare her. Stealing a few steps toward her, I realized the stains she was covered in were dried blood and that her right leg was covered in the bright red of a new wound. She needed help. Now. I stepped out of the shadows of the night and carefully made my way toward her. There was a snap under my foot, and she jumped. Her head turned and quickly looked right at me while she lifted a stick to defend herself.

"Hey," I called to her softly.

She started to scoot backward, trying to get away, and I realized that she couldn't walk. I slowly took a few more steps toward her and stopped. In the dim light of the moon, I could see the pure fear in her eyes; they fell to the gun and the hunting knife on my belt. My hand slowly went to them and she stiffened. I was taking a risk by doing this—I wanted to protect her, but first I had to gain her trust.

"I'm not going to hurt you," I said as I unstrapped my belt and placed the weapons on the ground in front of me. She seemed to relax just a little, but she still had the stick in her hand. I raised my hands, palms open, and slowly took another few steps toward her. Again she tried in vain to scoot backward and raised the stick defensively in front of her with shaky hands. She was still afraid of me.

What happened to this girl?

I thought of a different idea. I sat down. Maybe I could try talking to her. She was looking me up and down, studying me.

"What's your name?" A sad, distant look spread across her face, then it was gone as quickly as it came.

She remained silent.

"I'm Ky." I really didn't know what to talk about, so I spoke of the first thing that came to my mind. "Do you like pie?"

She looked confused.

"I really like pie. Actually, I love pie. I'll virtually eat any flavor, but apple pie is the best. Fresh out of the oven with a nice scoop of vanilla ice cream and a cup of coffee. Once in a while I'll add a little bit of whipped cream. That's on the days I feel like it, though. And nothing beats Granny's recipe. It's the best."