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Chapter 1

         I used to be an enthusiastic child with an over-all hyper-active imagination. I used to be filled with energy, jumping around frantically while singing aloud cheery songs that eventually satisfied my parents. I used it to take them out of their boredom and bring even the slightest happiness.

         I was a child full of energy, but you could never compare to what I am now.

         I was young when it happened. All I remembered was sitting with my mother on the front seat while she clutched me inside her arms. She covered my eyes, shielding me from the horrifying scene occuring. I heard the frantic screeching of the tires and the next thing I knew . . .  our car slid off the side of the road, tumbling towards the edge of the cliff . . . but it did not fall completely—not yet. At first, the car threatened to fall—tipping back and forth tauntingly. My mother had pushed me out and sent me rolling on the ground before they ever fell, leaving me alone and crying for them to come back. But no matter how much I beg of them to do so, the fact of them leaving me made a sharp pang of sadness pierce its way to my heart.

        From then on, I was taken under the care of my beloved aunt, who was sweet and loving herself. She was a kind woman who gladly took me in despite of how different I am from before.

         Yes, I used to laugh, I used to run outside and spend the whole day play with the children in games that were extremely tiring. But that was long ago before the incident finally happened, for I finally remained silent since that time. Instead of playing outside and hanging out with the kids around my age, I chose to stay home, do my homework and watch the television all day.

         My aunt had brought me to several doctors in hopes that there must be an aid to my absolute silence. But then, all of them had stated the same thing. There never will be any progress, except for me recovering from the hurtful occurrence which I could hardly forget—seeing your parents die in front of your eyes isn't the best thing that happened in my life.

         And they both happen to leave me . . . on my birthday. Since that incident, I considered that day the worst day of my everyday life. Even if it was meant to be celebrated because I'm slowly aging and reaching my maturity, it felt as if I was celebrating my parents' death as well.

         I was scarred for the rest of my life--a severe trauma inflicted upon me by a tragic accident. 

         I’ve undergone several therapies like the doctors recommended. But none of it ever worked. Each situation of me being forced to realize that my parents are gone only led to the point of me breaking down and locking myself into my room the whole day, without talking to anybody. Only Rosy had the privilege to enter my room. She somehow provided comfort for me.

         I did not wish to be mute. The complete curse of utter silence hindered me from communicating with other children that I wished to be with. Only one person had ever been there for me, the only one who understand all of the experiences that I have suffered during the past days of my life.

        The person I was previously referring to was my cousin, Rosalind, or whom I call Rosy for short. She was a cute nerd with long, curly blond hair and hazel colored eyes like mine. She was pretty if she would fix herself, I communicated with her through the use of sign language, which we both decided to learn so we can talk with each other—I cannot depend on a piece of paper and pencil forever. She got it easily, and understood me completely with simple and frantic waves in the air. However, it took quite a long time for me to learn.

         The sign language we learned was the simple American sign language alphabet, so as to keep things simple and easy for both of us. 

         “I can never understand why you refuse to speak.” Rosy stated, frowning and sparing me a sideway glance. We were currently watching our favorite show, which is the Glee episodes while sitting comfortably on the beige sofa on our living room.

         I looked at her with a smile, and waved my hands, expressing my words through the simple signs I learned over the years. “I just can’t.” I answered with a slight shrug. I answered with such innocence that you’ll never even sense the dreadful feeling which I really feel.

         For the past years of my life, I have longed—so longed to speak normally with everyone else without looking stupidly in front of other people. For I use sign language, I cannot communicate with other people when Rosy isn’t with me—unless they can understand the sign language. So, on my condition, the school principal had agreed on me, taking the same classes with Rosy. And it also happens that we are of the same age and grade . . . I might even consider myself lucky.

         She sighed and started fiddling with the remote in her hands. Her gaze lingered on my face, gleaming with sympathy as she fixed her nerdy glasses around her eyes. I looked away from her, not wanting to witness the pity she constantly spared me. “Hey, do you want to go to the school game today?” She asked, raising the remote and switching the television off. The show had just ended. It’s not that the next shows aren’t interesting.

        Seeming that it was only a yes or no question, I shrugged in response and pressed my lips into a thin line. “I don’t know.”

         “I heard that there’s a new, cute boy that arrived at the school.” She teased, elbowing my arm gently. I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest.

        I started to do my sign language once more.“So what? It’s not like he’ll talk to me. I’m mute, remember? I’ve got no chances with boys in this condition.” I narrowed my eyes at her while she looked at me with her brows furrowed on her forehead, her fingers rubbing her chin. She looked like she was thinking. Maybe searching her mind for something—and it is something where I’m certain I’ll not be happy of.

        She snapped her fingers as if a bulb appeared beside her head. “What if—“ she tried, but then, I cut her off with a simple wave of my hand, signaling her to not go any further with the idea that was currently sprouting in her mind. “Oh, come on!” she whined. “It will be like a fairy tale!” she exclaimed dreamily. “He will fall in love with you… you fall in love with him. And taddah! Maybe you can speak again. There are big chances that his love for you will be the key to your voice. It doesn't matter if he's ugly right? Maybe he can be cute when you dress him up.” She sighed.

         "Just like you," I thought, amused. 

         I chuckled at her childishness, shaking my head. "Fairytales don't exist," I told her. "If it were real, then my life should've a happy ending. Not having my parents killed." I felt my stomach drop just by mentioning my parents.

        Rosy must’ve noticed my sudden change of mood and tried to lighten the situation."You don't understand it, do you?" she told me, pressing her lips into a thin line. "Cinderella suffered losing both of her parents and was abused by her wicked step-mother. Don't you think she suffered much more?" She got a point. “Oh! But she got a handsome prince charming!” She squealed and punched my shoulders slightly. "Besides, don't even consider this being you're ending. How can you guess? Maybe this is just the start."

         “My life doesn’t revolve around fairytales.” I told her, standing up and walking back to my bedroom. I had already finished all the chores that my aunt had assigned to me, so I guess I can take a little break, right? Even if I failed to acquire my voice back over the past years, I am doing my best to help out.

         I entered my bedroom and closed the door behind me gently, sighing. Trudging inside the room, I sat on the edge of my duvet and wrapped my hands around the necklace clasped around my neck. This was the last thing that my mother had given me before she died. All those money which my parents left are just enough to sustain my tuition fees up until college. I am sure that I’ll make them proud even though they aren’t alive anymore. I can’t say that I had already gotten over their death—not entirely. Not even a single word has escaped past my mouth since that tragedy. 

         I stood up from my bed and decided to gaze through my window that has a good view of the woods. I unlocked the window and slid it open, causing the scent from the pines to linger under my nostrils. With my hand still wrapped around the cold, golden pendant around my neck, my eyes swept across the thick layer of trees. I sucked a full load of breath of fresh air and allowed it to waft under my nose. I focused on the sounds that rang in my ear, the chirp of the birds, the gentle rustle of trees, and the loud gushing wind. After about a few minutes gazing out into the wilderness, I finally decided to close my window and lock it for security.

         I then pulled a drawer and grabbed my flute. Since that day when I cannot speak anymore, I had decided to play an instrument. I found this flute under my parent’s bed, and so I learned to play with some help.

         I walked out of my bedroom and closed the door behind me. I sauntered towards the living room to spot Rosy, lounged on the couch back on watching television while munching on another bag of nachos. I smiled at her and she looked at me, mouthing me a question where I'm headed.

         “I’m going to practice. I’ll be back later before sunset.” I answered. She nodded at me and continued eating. Sometimes I wonder if she even gain any weight. I'm starting to think that she burns calories by thinking.

         A sigh escaped my lips. I walked out of the room and eventually out of the back door, heading straight towards the forest. After my mother’s words about wolves, somehow . . . I felt tranquil and at peace around them. Not the actual wolves, but seeing a picture of a wolf howling at the moon gets me at peace.

         I entered the thick layer of trees and headed towards the clearing where I usually play. When I arrived at my usual spot, I sat down at the old stump I used to sit on and blew through the holes of my flute. Closing my eyes, I listened intently to the delicate tune it hummed.

         That is until a rustle caught my attention.

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