Filed to story: Seventeen Heartbreaks: When Love Has No Voice
Leila felt a strange pull toward the girl. There, at least, she sensed a shred of humanity.
She glanced around, ensuring no one was watching, and then subtly gestured for the girl to come closer. “Come here for a moment,” she whispered.
The girl hesitated, her eyes darting around nervously. But after a brief pause, she approached, eyes filled with confusion as they locked onto Leila. Yet, she remained silent, as if bound by some unspoken rule.
Leila glanced around once more before slipping a few bills into the girl’s hand. It was a small risk. She was being watched, and her access to communication was cut off, but she still had some money with her.
“Hey, sweetie,” Leila said softly, crouching down to meet the girl’s eye level. “Don’t worry, I just want to ask you some questions and understand what’s happening here.”
The girl shook her head immediately, her refusal clear and unwavering.
Leila’s heart sank, but she didn’t push. She decided to try once more, her voice gentle. “Why don’t you speak? Is it because they told you not to talk to me?”
Again, the girl shook her head. Leila waited, watching as the girl hesitated. Then, slowly, the girl pulled down her mask.
Leila’s eyes widened in horror as the girl opened her mouth, revealing only half of a tongue..
The sight was like a punch to the gut. Leila gasped, unable to stifle her shock. In an instant, the door flew open. A bodyguard stormed in, his eyes blazing. Without a word, he grabbed the girl’s wrist, yanking her away.
Panic flashed across the girl’s face. Her eyes went wide with terror as she tried to resist, gesturing frantically. She couldn’t speak. She could only struggle, her silent pleas twisting into a heartbreaking cry.
The bodyguard didn’t hesitate, dragging the girl out of the room. The girl’s muffled cries grew desperate, and Leila’s blood ran cold. She realized just how dire the situation was. Leaping to her feet, she rushed after them, heart racing, as she tried to stop the bodyguard from taking the girl away.
The bodyguard didn’t release his hold on the girl. He turned to glare at Leila, his eyes icy with murderous intent.
“Miss Nixon, remember that you are a guest here. It’s crucial you understand our rules. This girl violated them and needs to be removed.”
Leila shook her head. “It wasn’t her fault. I was the one who pulled off her mask. She’s innocent.”
The bodyguard’s smile became colder. “Does it matter? She was careless. Her death is trivial and won’t tie back to you.”
Chills ran down Leila’s spine. To him, human life was no more than dirt. Her look hardened. Clutching her stomach, she countered, “Your boss invited me here for a reason. If you take her, it’ll upset me. My distress could affect my unborn child. Are you ready to face those repercussions?”
The bodyguard paused, unsure how to react.
Meanwhile, the girl, overwhelmed with fear, bit the bodyguard’s hand hard.
Enraged, the bodyguard retaliated with several harsh slaps.
Leila observed this in dismay.
As chaos ensued, a stern voice cut through the noise. “What’s happening here? Did you forget what the boss said? Miss Nixon is our guest!”
The young man who had been maneuvering the wheelchair earlier now stepped forward.
Unknown to the others, he had been observing from the doorway. His gaze, icy and detached, unnerved Leila particularly.
Upon the young man’s arrival, the bodyguard let go of the girl’s hand. He bowed and addressed the young man respectfully, “Sir.”
Leila’s eyebrows shot up at the shift in the bodyguard’s demeanor. Could this young man be related to the elderly man, perhaps his son?
The young man, Griffin Perry, gestured for the bodyguards to depart and offered Leila a slight smile and an extended hand. “Please allow me to introduce myself. I’m Griffin Perry, responsible for overseeing the servants here.”
A memory of the girl’s disfigured mouth flashed through Leila’s mind, filling her with revulsion. She asked, “Did you decide to silence the staff here?”
Griffin cleared his throat lightly and responded, “Miss Nixon, you are surely mistaken. Our practices aren’t cruel.”
“They were already like this. It wasn’t our doing.”
Leila remained skeptical. A few mute individuals might be coincidental. Yet, how could every servant in the manor be unable to speak? Where would one find so many mute individuals?
Leila knew the agony of silence all too well. Her suspicion grew. If she was right, this was the work of Griffin and the elderly man. Despite her revulsion, she masked her emotions. She was, after all, still within their power.
Leila’s smile was less icy as she mused aloud, “Interesting approach. Effective. Every household has its secrets, doesn’t it? I’m curious if you could recommend similar resources. They might be useful back home.”
Griffin’s smile lingered, wordless. He gave no sign of offense to her words.
Leila finally realized what was off about Griffin. His youthful look was devoid of any young man’s vigor. Even a naturally introverted, depressed teenager would show off some vigor. Yet, Griffin was markedly different. His eyes, dark and empty, seemed to drain the soul from anyone they fixed upon. A sense of decay emanated from them. His actions and behavior occasionally betrayed a maturity far beyond his years, surpassing mere precocity.
Leila paused, lost in her thoughts. She concealed her emotions effectively, not letting her guard down even though Griffin resembled a teen.
Their conversation continued.
Leila mentioned her daughter, explaining her inability to watch another young girl suffer. She argued the girl could simply be assigned more tasks instead of facing extreme measures over a trivial issue.
Griffin did not oppose her suggestion. He observed the timid girl with a curious gaze. “Miss Nixon, you appear to have a kind heart,” he remarked.
Leila replied flatly, “I wouldn’t describe it as kindness. I just saw it and felt I had to do so. If this troubles you or the elderly man, I apologize. After all, I am in your domain and must respect your rules.”
Griffin shook his head. “Miss Nixon, as our guest, your request is reasonable, and I see no reason to deny it. If I fail, it would displease my grandfather. You wish for the girl to remain, and so she shall. But…”
Griffin paused ominously and flashed a peculiar smile. Reaching the door, he said, “However, here, kindness may be more of a curse. I hope your unborn child does not inherit such a pointless trait.”
Griffin’s gaze lingered ominously on Leila’s abdomen. Feeling a sudden cold, Leila instinctively covered her stomach.
Griffin exited, the door clicking shut behind him. Leila exhaled in relief.
The little girl, tears still marking her cheeks, quickly knelt at Leila’s side.
An older servant, apparently the girl’s mother, knelt beside her as well.
Both sank to their knees before Leila, their movements earnest though not fluent in sign language. Leila, having once been mute, understood their intent.
“Please, no need for thanks. Stand up,” Leila urged. She assisted them to their feet.
Tears streamed down their faces silently, their bodies shaking.
Sympathy welled up in Leila. “I intervened because I have a few questions,” she told them.
Leila’s gaze met the mother’s earnestly. “My request isn’t unreasonable. I seek to understand this island, the manor, the elderly man, and Griffin. You need not divulge any secrets. Just some basic truths about their relationships and the general lay of the land would suffice.”
The mother, thankful for the safety of her child, listened to Leila’s words with growing enthusiasm and relief. She responded positively, clearly eager to share, without any intention of deceit or omission.
The little girl and her mother remained unnerved as they confided in Leila about the elderly man.
The elderly man was Ernesto Perry. He was born in the same country as Leila but had moved to another city in his early years. His family background was shrouded in obscurity, with no known ties.
Ernesto was once a man of impressive abilities, experiencing a youth filled with achievements. He stood as the principal client of the Nixon family, though he later inexplicably broke off relations with them.
Ernesto’s life had seen its share of sorrow. His many children either died under various circumstances or drifted away from him, leaving only his son Griffin at his side.
Griffin bore the brunt of Ernesto’s indifference. Despite his youth, he was relegated to the most grueling tasks, effectively managing the estate without recognition or paternal affection.
Despite his age, Ernesto remained a formidable figure with extensive connections across high society and royal circles. His power was undeniable, commanding private armies and enjoying impunity for his actions as the local leaders chose to ignore his misdeeds.
Leila’s intuition about Ernesto was correct. Beneath his seemingly gentle facade lay a man of complex and potentially dangerous character. Indeed, he was merciless.
Most of the servants had been lured here under false pretenses. Upon their arrival, their first task was a grim one. They had their tongues cut out to ensure their silence. Leaving was not an option unless they wished to leave life itself.
Despite these horrors, the wages were extraordinarily high, drawing in those from desperately poor backgrounds.
The woman, the girl’s mother, compelled by the need to support herself and her daughter, felt she couldn’t afford to leave.
Strangely, the girl was the only child among the servants. Her presence there was a mysterious anomaly.