Page 3 of Silencing Stolen Whispers
Hannah quickly retreated to the side of the house. She squirmed and swatted at the persistent insects as they followed her toward the sliding screened door. She was bitten again on her arm before she could open the door and find safety inside.
After enjoying the open air on the deck, the cabin's interior was overwhelmingly stifling. Still, it was better than getting eaten alive by mosquitoes. She had left her wine glass outside, but she would collect it in the morning. She slipped her shoes off by the sliding door and decided to switch back to coffee.
It was going to be another long night.
The golden glow of the two lamps on either side of the couch provided enough light for the small space. Barefoot, she walked across the wooden floor, already eyeing the sour cream and onion potato chips that Dot had dropped off with the rest of the groceries that morning. The older woman had taken it upon herself to make sure Hannah survived on more than coffee during the four weeks she had rented the cabin.
That thought reminded Hannah that she had only one more week to study for the bar. With a grimace, she walked past the large stone fireplace that dominated the north wall of the cabin. Not that it had done her much good. It was really too bad she had rented the place in July.
Something had Hannah slowing her steps.
Something…wrong.
Her eyes were drawn to the four-piece iron fireplace toolset that stood in the corner. The brush, small shovel, and tongs were all in their rightful places. Oddly enough, the poker was conspicuously absent.
Had it always been missing?
A flutter of unease passed through her stomach.
She began to cautiously take in her surroundings, suddenly aware of just how far she was away from civilization and the isolation surrounding her. The previous shift in air had nothing to do with the lack of air flowing through the window screens, either.
Hannah wasn’t alone.
She had only just realized this explosive truth when she turned around and caught sight of a lone figure standing between her and the patio screen door. The missing fire poker gleamed dully, the pointed end angled slightly toward the floor.
The intruder was maybe six feet away from her.
“Y-you don’t want to do this,” Hannah whispered fearfully once the reality of her situation sank in. She was trapped with someone who had planned this moment. “Please, d-don’t do this.”
Silence.
The kind of silence that signified the decision had already been made.
Hannah understood exactly why the person wanted to end her life.
She slowly raised her hands in front of her, palms out—a useless gesture of supplication or defense, she wasn't sure which. There was a way out of this. Therehadto be a way out of this. A sob of panic rose in her chest.
“It’s all a big misunderstanding. I?—”
The figure moved with no hesitation.
No negotiation.
Just pure, silent violence.
A terrible, unquenchable intent that required no words to be spoken. Time seemed to fold into a single, eternal moment as the fire poker was swung with brutal force. Hannah observed every detail with unnatural clarity—the iron handle, the long shaft, the cruel point at the end.
She should have reached for something to defend herself.
She should have known there was no way out.
The commitment to brutality was staggering, and the impact came with a sickening sound. Metal meeting bone, a wet crack that echoed in the cabin's stillness. There was a thunderclap inside her skull, an explosion of pressure behind her eyes.
The force knocked her sideways, her body suddenly untethered from her will. She expected white-hot agony to flare where the poker had connected with her temple, yet her body seemed to have trouble recognizing the pain.
Her vision fractured with shards of light.
A second blow came, though she barely registered it through the haze of the first. Her legs buckled beneath her, no longer able to support her weight. She was falling, the room tilting around her at impossible angles.
