The Mute and the Liar (15 page)

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Authors: Victoria Best

BOOK: The Mute and the Liar
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Two.

I
am
nothing.
I
am
a
shadow
drowned
in
a
world
filled
with colours.
Invisible.


One.

I
can
feel
my
whole
body
giving
up.
He
has
won.
That
tear
alone
was enough
to
tell
me
I
had
lost;
that
there
was
no
hope
for
me
anymore.
For
a
second
he eases his hand
around
my
throat,
and
I
finally
break my silence.

I
let
out
a
grazing
scream.

It’s
a
tortured sound,
too
high-pitched,
with
a
crack
running
right
through
the middle. It
sounds
more
like
the cry of
an
eagle
than
a
human being,
or
the
sound
of
someone
slashing
through
a
broken
violin
string.
It
slices
through
the frozen
air,
sawing
right
through
the empty
street.

He
lets
his
hands
slide
down
a
little
from
my throat, and presses
his
palms
softly
against
my
collarbone.

Before
I
can
finally
take
a
breath,
his
lips
crash against
mine.

Chapter
Seven

 

8:15
PM

 

W
hat
would
it
be
like
if
you
could
freeze
time?
If
you
could
just
stop
everything?
You’d
never
have
to
worry
about
anything.

You
would
never
have
to
rush.
You
would
never
have
to
grow
old.
You
could
just live for centuries, locked outside
of time, free from aging
and
death.

Up until now,
I
thought
that
stopping time
was
completely
impossible.
But
time really has
frozen.

It’s
decided
to
trap
us
in
this
moment,
ensnaring
us
in
this
mousetrap
where
my
eyes
are
wide
open,
and
his
lips
are
on
mine.

And
I’m
scared.
I'm
caught
here
and
although
I'm
desperate
to
just
push him
away,
I'm
too
scared
too.
Instead,
I
just
stand
here,
frozen,
my
heart pounding
and
my
whole
body
shaking.

He
nearly
strangled
me.
All
of
this
didn't
feel
real
until
now,
as
though
it
had nothing to do with me at all:
a
stranger's nightmare.
But I've been pushed
back
in
reality
now,
and
it
feels
like
every
emotion
I
should
have
felt
and
every
thought
I
should
have
had
before
are
suddenly
crashing
through
me
all
at once.

It’s
funny
how
pain makes
everything real.

I’m
motionless,
too
scared
to
even
breathe
.
I
don’t
know
what’s
going
to
happen
to
me,
where
he’s
taking
me,
nothing.
I
can’t
take
this
anymore.
I
can’t
take
this
not
knowing.
I
need
to
get
out
of
here.
I
need
to
get out of here!

At
last,
time shatters back,
and
he
draws
away.

I
seem
to
have
become
soldered
to
the
glass
wall,
shuddering
as he
leers
over
me.
His
agitated
eyes
dart
over
my
face,
and
his
mouth
is
a
little
open,
lost
in
a
gasp.
Before
I
can
scream
or
try
to
run
or
do
anything,
he
places
one
finger
on
my
lips, and picks
up
the
phone with his other hand.


You have
three
days.

He
slams
the
phone
back
on
the
stand,
pulls
away
his
finger
from
my
mouth
and
turns
to
me
with
a
mournful,
apologetic
look.


I’m
sorry.
That
was…
Inappropriate,

he
murmurs
pathetically,
and
wipe
s
his
mouth
with
the
sleeve
of
his
t-shirt.

It’s
just…

he
looks
up,
strained,
as
if
hoping
the
right
words
will be written
on
t
he
ceiling.


You
were screaming.
I
didn’t know
how
else
to
make
you
stop.

Hesitantly,
he
lifts
the
hem
of
his
baggy
t-shirt
and
tries
to
wipe
my
mouth
with
it
too
.
Considering
it
reeks
of
sweat,
I
doubt
it
will
make
my
mouth
any
cleaner.
I
decide
I
don’t
like
his
fingers
constantly
invading
my
personal space
and
attempt
to
bite
them
off.


Ouch!

he
puts
his
hand
down
and
I
feel
a
glimmer
of
triumph.

But
otherwise,
this
is
great!
You
screamed!
We’re
making
progress!
Just
don’t
do
that
again,
okay?
We
don’t
want
people
to
think
I’m
abducting
you
or
anything.

Oh no. We
wouldn’t
want
that,
would we?

I
have
to
get
home.
I
can’t
spend
a
second
longer
here.
Several
more
tears
spill
from
my
eyes
.
He
gives
me
a
pitying
look,
which
just
makes
me
hate him even more.

At
that
moment,
I
hear
the
sound
of
a
car
approaching.
Jayce
leads
me
out
of
the
phone
box.
Turning
around,
I
see
a
yellow
Fiat
500
pull
up
behind
us.
Scratches
race
down
the
side
of
every
door,
and
the
front
of
the
car
has
a
big
dent
in.
It’s
so
bashed
up
you
would
think
it
had
just
paraded
through
no
man’s land.


No,
no,
no,
no,
no!

Jayce
protests
,
running
up
to
the
car.

What
are
you
doing?

A
large
figure
steps
out
of
the
driver’s
seat
and
the
streetlights
around
us
slowly
drag
him
into
focus.
The
first
thing
I
notic
e
is
his
shadow

it’s
so
large
it
almost
drenches
the
rest
of
the
street.
As
the
large
man
approaches
us,
I
notice
he
has
a
closely
cropped,
almost
military
hairstyle,
and
facial
features
that
are
so
sharp,
you
could
probably
cut
yourself
on
his
cheekbones.
His
broad
shoulders,
long
arms
and
strange
way
of
dragging
his
feet
along
give
him
an
almost
gorilla-like
appearance.
What
catch
my
attention
the
most
though
are
his alarmingly
familiar
green
eyes.

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