The Day Silence Spoke novel Chapter 31

Latisha slowly reached out, scooping up a handful of ash from the ground. The wind blew, and it slipped through her fingers, scattering into the night.

She looked up at Clifford, helpless.

Clifford stood over her, looking down with an air of absolute authority, as if he had just disposed of some worthless trash.

In his eyes, she was no different from that trash. Her friends, her life, everything she cared about was meaningless to him.

She pushed herself up from the ground and began to sign: *Why? Why are you doing this to me?*

Clifford stepped closer and gently wiped a tear from her cheek. "These things don't belong here," he said softly.

"I told you to stay away from Nikita. Why can't you just listen?"

She bit him for a pile of trash.

*Am I not even allowed to have a friend?* she signed.

"You have me. You don't need friends." His voice was gentle, but the words sent a shiver of pure terror through her.

Latisha stared into his cold, emotionless eyes. They were colder than the wind.

She took a step back. *I've only ever had you. Since I was a child, it's only been you. But you have so many people in your life, and you've never had a place for me.*

*What am I to you?* she continued. *A cat? A dog?*

Clifford stared at her, silent.

Her fingers moved stiffly, tears streaming down her face. *I'm a person. I'm not a cat or a dog. I have a heart. I can feel pain, I can be sad, but you never care.*

Latisha's fingers tightened into fists. She didn't want to be his family. She wanted the kind of love he gave to Yesenia.

She looked up at him as the wind swirled the ashes around them. Her eyes, once like dying embers, finally went dark.

*I'm grown up now,* she signed.

She was trying to tell him that she wasn't that little girl anymore. She was twenty-four years old.

But he still looked at her the same way, telling her he cared for her with a cheap, easy affection.

She was like a beggar. Every time she pleaded for a scrap of his love, he ignored her, refusing to even offer a handout. And then he would tell her that the door would always be open, that she must stay here and beg forever, that she could never leave.

His fingers brushed her cheek. "If you're all grown up," he whispered, "then you shouldn't be crying."