The Voiceless: part 1

The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. She awoke with no idea how she got here and only fragmented memories of her prior life, but she didn’t have to remember the outside world to know she wanted no part of it. A small sliver of sunlight shone through the window, illuminating one corner of the room where she lay. She rolled onto her side in the stuff metal cot, turning away from the light. The light was bad… She didn’t know how or why; she just knew.

She closed her eyes against the light and the throbbing pain in her head. As she drifted off to sleep, disturbing visions formed. Flashes of blindingly bright colors, a crowded street, disdainful looks on sour faces, angry voices shouting, and herself lying unconscious on the pavement. So much cold, so much pain… As she lay dying, a dark figure hovered over her. He knelt beside her, and she felt the warmth of a hand holding hers. With her last strength, she looked up into a pair of bright green eyes. Her eyelids drooped, becoming too heavy to stay open, and everything went dark. Dark like his clothes, dark like his hair, dark like her life.

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Her eyes snapped open, and she sat up in the cot. The sun outside was going down, but she could still make out her surroundings in the dimming light. The room was small and sterile with tiled floors and muted beige walls. The only furniture besides the metal cot were a nightstand and a monitor that blinked and beeped with every beat of her heart. Long wires led from the machine to her chest. The beeping monitor stirred a memory of a room a lot like this one, only larger with blindingly white lighting. She lay on a cot a lot like this one hooked up to a monitor that looked a lot like that one, except…

A woman in a white coat that matched the lighting stood beside her cot. The mystery woman held a clipboard in her right hand and a remote control in her right. She pushed a button, and the monitor crackled, sending a shock through the poor girl’s body. “Let that be a lesson to you,” the woman said with a sneer. “Next time you step out of line, you’ll get worse.”

The monitor beeped erratically as her heart beat faster. She pulled the nearest wire, frantically trying to disconnect it before the machine could shock her again. Before she could yank it loose, the doorknob turned. Her eyes flicked to the door as two men stepped inside. The shorter, balding one wore a blinding white coat like the woman in her memory. In his hands were a clipboard and… whatever it was, it looked suspiciously like a remote control.

The girl instinctively backed away, curling up in one corner of the cot to make herself as small as possible. Her eyes scanned the room in vain for something she could use to defend herself. Maybe she could smash the nightstand and use a piece of wood like a club? Or if she could detach the wires on her body, maybe she could reconnect them to the strangers instead? Then the bald one would shock either himself or his partner when he turned the machine on…

The other man approached before she had time to do either. He was about a foot taller than his companion, with sharp features and graying dark hair that fell to his shoulders. His attire was just as dark as the other man’s was light, and his eyes the exact green of the eyes in her dream.

“Easy…” he whispered, reaching out a hand to her. “We won’t hurt you.”

The fear in her eyes turned to confusion at the kindness in his tone and in his eyes. Did that dream actually happen? She thought. Did I die? Is this the afterlife? Why am I here?

Momentarily disarmed, she placed a scarred, shaking hand in his and allowed him to sit on the cot beside her. She half-expected him to pull away in revulsion, but he never recoiled from her scarred limbs, ragged clothing, matted hair, and wild eyes. He held her hand, looking at her with concern and compassion. That look in his eyes was foreign to her, but the comforting warmth of his touch was familiar, almost like something out of a dream.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Lara,” she replied. Her lips formed the word, but no sound came. Panic setting in, she touched her throat as she tried again. Her vocal cords wouldn’t vibrate, and there was a rough, jagged scar running across her throat.

Suddenly the mystery dark-haired man voiced exactly what she was thinking, “You can’t speak?”

Lara shook her head. Now how could she make him understand her? As she glanced around the room, she spied the clipboard in the other man’s hands, and an idea occurred to her. She snatched the clipboard and used the pen and paper attached to write her name.

Lara shook her head. Now how could she make him understand her? As she glanced around the room, she spied the clipboard in the other man’s hands, and an idea occurred to her. She snatched the clipboard and used the pen and paper attached to write her name.

“Lara…” he read. “Nice to meet you. I’m Mercurius, and this is my friend, Prometheus.”

The balding man, Prometheus, nodded politely, but Lara merely eyed him with suspicion. Unlike Mercurius, he had yet to earn her trust. If he was what she thought he was, the white coat alone was reason to suspect him!

“How did this happen?” Mercurius asked. Lara shrugged. Then he and Prometheus exchanged a look, the mutual understanding between them lost on her.

“I know one way to find out,” said Prometheus.

He approached, holding the black boxy object that looked so much like a remote control. Lara cowered, her grip on Mercurius’s hand tightening. “It’s okay,” Mercurius whispered, grim understanding dawning in his eyes. “It’s a scanner, not a shock remote.”

Prometheus nodded. “I need to scan you so we can figure out what’s wrong with your voice.”

Lara’s skeptical eyes darted from one man to the other. “Would it help if he did it to me first?” Mercurius asked, and Lara nodded.

He rose, letting go of her hand, and stood completely still. Prometheus’s scanner beeped, emitting a red light that encircled Mercurius. Lara watched with wide, worried eyes, half-expecting him to crumple to the floor in writhing agony at any moment. But that didn’t happen. The scanner beeped once more. The red light dissipated, and the small screen in Prometheus’s hand showed a readout of Mercurius’s body.

“See? It doesn’t hurt,” Mercurius said with a small smile. “I’ll be right here the whole time.”

“May I scan you now?” asked Prometheus; Lara nodded again.

No sooner than she had, an ominous thought occurred to her. What if they were lying? Maybe Mercurius had learned to withstand the shock… though she couldn’t imagine how. More likely, the device in Prometheus’s hand could be a scanner and a shock remote. The device beeped, jerking her out of her thoughts just as suddenly as they came.

“All done,” said Prometheus. His expression changed, a frown forming as he studied the screen. “This readout shows extensive scarring, likely from electrical burns, untreated broken bones grown back wrong, and massive damage to the vocal cords…” His voice dropped, but Lara could still hear him as he continued, “as if something - or someone - tried to rip them out.”

“Do you think they did this to her?” Mercurius asked in that same low tone, as if he and Prometheus were trying to hide something from her. The two men exchanged a knowing look. They? Who was “they”?

Lara looked up, searching Mercurius’s face for answers. He smiled reassuringly, but his eyes betrayed his true emotions… anger, worry, sadness. Was all of that because of her? She squeezed his hand again, trying to tell him she was okay in the only way she could with her ravaged voice.

Another question followed, this time not asked in hushed tones. “Is there anything that can be done?”

“Possibly,” Prometheus replied, “though it’s unlikely her voice will heal on its own. Perhaps we can create an artificial voice box for her. In the meantime, she’ll have to find other means of communication, like that one…” He inclined his head toward the clipboard. “Or maybe an interpreter.”

Lara glanced hopefully at Mercurius. Would he be her interpreter? He nodded, laughing softly. “We’ll figure all that out later,” he replied as if reading her mind. “For now, you need rest to get your strength back.” He tucked the blankets around her and gave her hand a little kiss before following Prometheus out the door.

As Lara watched Mercurius go, another memory stirred of another man tucking her into bed many years ago. This one was the same height as Mercurius, but he had softer features, lighter hair, and blue eyes instead of green… much like Lara’s own.

She still didn’t know where she came from, how she lost her voice, how she got here, or even where here was. But she knew one thing: Mercurius was the closest thing to a father she had now.