Voiceless

Prologue

At first glance, they almost looked normal. The beautiful woman with a pale face and icy eyes, the man who had nothing in common with her. A little boy smiling at his older sister as she told him about a prank she'd pulled on her science teacher, a girl with a laugh in her voice. At first glance, they looked happy and perfect.

You should never take just one glance.

They thought they were alone. The lonely stretch of highway was deserted, so why believe otherwise? She could let go. He could pretend not to hear his children's screams. The sound of knuckles hitting soft flesh could be an opera, if he closed his eyes. The boy's sobs were the melody, the girl's pleads for her mother to stop an accompaniment. 

And his wife, she was the conductor. The sway of her hands brought the music up and down, from a piano to a forte. While the man loved his children, he feared his wife more. She knew this. It was why she married him.

"Gavin, it's okay. It's okay, honey." The girl whispered. She didn't dare to speak louder. 

Gavin still sniffled. "Vera!" His voice cracked. He didn't understand. In his kindergarten class, whenever he broke a rule, his teacher put him in time-out. There was no time-out in his mother's world.

Finally the opera ended. Vera couldn't sit up straight, so she curled into a ball, head against the mirror. Her slim, pale frame didn't take up much room. She felt pain everywhere, but that was old news; she still had enough energy left to reach out her hand and intertwine her fingers with Gavin's.

Her mother had fallen asleep. She looked peaceful and innocent in her dreams, her smooth face expressionless and her frigid eyes hidden. As for her father, he never slept. He'd seen too much and done too little.

Vera untangled her fingers from her brother's and stroked his dark hair until he fell asleep. Her gray eyes never strayed from his face. That's when she heard it. A deep roar, a tremble underneath her. She looked out the window across from her and saw it. Two yellow eyes, getting bigger. The roar grew louder, more menacing, and she screamed. Her head soared back through the window. She felt a vague trickle of something warm running down her neck.

And then, nothing.