Chapter 5: Cracks in the Silence
Ethan hadn’t seen Sophie in three days. She had been absent from school without explanation, and her usual spot under the oak tree remained empty. Anxiety gnawed at him. He tried texting her, but she didn’t reply.
On the fourth day, she finally showed up. She looked pale, her scarf pulled higher than usual, and her notebook clutched so tightly to her chest that her knuckles were white.
“Sophie,” Ethan said, rushing to her side as she entered the schoolyard. “Where have you been?”
She didn’t look at him. Instead, she walked past, her steps quick and unsteady.
Ethan caught up, gently grabbing her arm. “Sophie, talk to me—what’s going on?”
She shook her head, pulling free from his grasp. Before he could say more, she disappeared into the crowd.
That afternoon, Ethan found her under the oak tree, sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest. Her notebook lay open in front of her, but for once, she wasn’t writing.
“Sophie,” Ethan said softly, sitting down beside her.
She didn’t move, her gaze fixed on the ground. After a long pause, she reached for her pen and scribbled something hastily. She handed the notebook to him, her hand trembling.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
Ethan stared at the words, his stomach twisting. “What do you mean?”
She took the notebook back, writing again. This time, her strokes were slower, almost hesitant.
“He hit me. He’s never done that before.”
Ethan felt a surge of anger so fierce it made his hands shake. “Sophie, that’s not okay. You need to tell someone—your teacher, the police, anyone.”
She shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes.
“I’m serious,” Ethan insisted. “You don’t have to stay there. There are people who can help.”
She wrote again, her handwriting messier than usual: “I tried once. They didn’t believe me.”
Ethan’s heart sank. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words caught in his throat. He couldn’t imagine the pain she was carrying, the loneliness of knowing no one was willing to help.
Finally, he said, “You’re not alone, Sophie. I’m here. And I’ll keep being here, no matter what.”
For the first time, Sophie looked at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and despair. She reached out, her fingers brushing against his arm, and nodded.
---
The next day, Ethan made up his mind. He couldn’t just sit back and watch Sophie suffer. After school, he rode his bike to her house, his heart pounding in his chest.
He had only seen Sophie’s father in passing—a tall, heavyset man with a permanent scowl. Ethan had no idea how the confrontation would go, but he didn’t care. Sophie needed him, and he wasn’t going to let her down.
When he knocked on the door, it opened almost immediately. Sophie’s father stood in the doorway, his face red and his eyes bloodshot. The stench of alcohol wafted toward Ethan.
“What do you want?” the man growled.
Ethan straightened his shoulders, his hands clenched into fists. “I’m here about Sophie. You need to stop—”
Before he could finish, the man stepped forward, his expression darkening. “You don’t get to tell me what to do in my own house.”
Ethan stood his ground, but his voice wavered. “She’s scared of you. You can’t keep treating her like this.”
The man sneered. “You don’t know anything about my family, kid. Get out of here before I make you regret it.”
Ethan hesitated, fear creeping into his chest. But then he thought of Sophie—of the way she hugged her notebook like a lifeline, of the sadness in her eyes.
“No,” he said firmly. “I’m not leaving until you promise to stop.”
The man’s fist clenched, and for a terrifying moment, Ethan thought he might actually hit him. But instead, the man slammed the door in his face, the sound echoing down the quiet street.
Ethan stood there for a long time, his hands shaking. He didn’t know what else to do.
---
The next morning, Sophie wasn’t at school. Ethan tried texting her again, but there was no response.
When he went to check on her after school, the house was eerily quiet. The windows were dark, and no one answered the door.
That night, Ethan lay in bed, staring at his phone. His mind raced with worst-case scenarios, each one worse than the last. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong.
And he was right.
