My Hands Hold My Story (Rough Draft)

Prologue

1874

Every day I walked from Aunt Ruth's house to the shop or butcher, hearing none of the sounds that would have inundated hearing people—horses pulling wagons and carriages in the street, other people walking and talking or calling out to each other. Aunt Ruth had made it clear that she would have preferred to keep me inside and away from people in general. However, as much as part of me wished for the same thing, it was what it was.

Once I reached the butcher's shop, I was met with the usual challenge of dealing with someone who made no effort to understand me. Mrs. Aldridge, the butcher's wife, was the one who took my note of which cuts Aunt Ruth wanted. As ever, I kept my eyes on her as she selected the meats. More than once in the past, she had tried to give me cuts that were not as fresh or wasn't the right weight.

Why did people assume that because I could not hear that I was, in some manner, stupid and they could pull something over on me?

Whether because she didn't think of trying to cheat me or because there were several customers, but Mrs. Aldridge was quick to hand me the order and send me on my way without giving me any of the usual trouble and drama she usually would. I had no complaints about it, as the metallic scent of blood in the shop always made my stomach turn.

Knowing Aunt Ruth would not be expecting me back so soon, I took the long way back, keeping my steps slow but steady. The scents that could only be associated with city life drifted on the breeze: horse manure, cooking food, the unmistakable smell of the sewer. Since I lost my hearing, my other senses at times felt as though they were doubled.

As I walked, I let my gaze wander the windows of the shops I passed. The elegant clothing always caught my attention with the beautiful buttons and delicate lace. How I wished I had the money for just one of them! Specifically, the gorgeous crimson and white evening gown displayed on the mannequin.

The thought of money inevitably led me to thoughts of how my life had changed in the last few weeks. When I had arrived at my aunt and uncle's home for a visit during the summer holiday as I had done every year, though, Aunt Ruth had sat me down and explained, through a mixture of home signs and notes, that I would be staying in Springfield. There was no more money to put towards my education.

There was nothing I wanted more than to return to school. For eight years, it had been my home, where I had learned and come to accept myself. I had fully expected to have several more years at the American School for the Deaf, maybe even becoming a teacher myself.

Needless to say, I was heartbroken to have those hopes shattered. The few months I spent in Springfield were always frustrating and difficult. Few could understand me when I tried to communicate with them, whereas at school, everyone understood.

Reaching the house, I let myself in through the back. Uncle Richard didn't like it when I was in the front of the house. He had made it clear that he expected me to work around the house. He'd dismissed the maid and I had taken on all of the tasks she would have handled. It was hard work but had the benefit of keeping my hands busy, though my mind continued to race.

I made sure to close the door hard when I entered the kitchen. It was the only way I had to let my aunt know I had returned. There was nothing exactly wrong with my voice. In fact, I knew there were times when I used my voice, however I had seen the way others would flinch when I did so because I had no way to control my volume or the pitch. So I did my best to keep silent.

After I placed the meat on the counter, I tied on my apron, ready to get back to work. To my surprise, Aunt Ruth hadn't come to see if my errand had been successful or not. Usually, she would have to begin cooking for the evening meal.

Curious, I left the kitchen and made my up the back staircase. Aunt Ruth usually spent her days sewing for charity in her sewing room. She had a skill with thread and needle that I envied. Everything I knew about sewing I had learned from her.

To my surprise, she wasn't there. Puzzled, because I didn't think she had plans to go anywhere, I searched the entire second floor and didn't find her. With Uncle Richard at the store, I risked going to the front staircase and that's where I found her.

Aunt Ruth was at the bottom of the stairs. I'm certain a scream left my lips as I scrambled down the steps, clinging to the railing to keep my balance as my feet moved faster than the rest of my body. The woman didn't move or even flinch as I fell on my knees beside her. Tears welled up in my eyes.

She had to be alright. What would I do if she wasn't?  

Author's Note: I hope you enjoy reading Ivy's story! This is the rough draft so there are undoubtedly mistakes. If you would like to support the author, the edited/polished version is available to buy (so no ads to annoy you!).