The Princes Silence

The air in the village was thick with heat and silence. Mabel sat under the mango tree, listening to the wind rustle dry leaves, pretending it could drown out her uncle's voice. She knew what he wanted. She'd seen the way his eyes lingered too long, how his footsteps always came too close.

That evening, it happened fast.

Her mother had gone to fetch water. The old man cornered her by the hut, breathing like a beast. His hand reached for her chest.

She screamed. Her mother came running, wielding a stick. She hit him hard enough to send him stumbling back into the red dirt.

They left that night.

With one bag. One prayer. One hope.

To find something better in the city. Or to at least lose what had almost broken her.