The Day Silence Spoke novel Chapter 44

Then, pulling her suitcase behind her, she walked away without looking back.

She had nowhere to go. She just followed the road away from the villa, wandering aimlessly into the night.

Give her two weeks? What was he trying to prove? That she couldn’t survive without him?

She was penniless. She had no place to go. Just as Clifford had implied, without him, she was homeless.

She walked for what felt like hours. As the night deepened, the air grew colder. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering.

Eventually, she found an underpass. It was brightly lit, and a few people were scattered about, each occupying their own small territory.

After a moment’s hesitation, Latisha found a spot far away from the others and squatted down, hugging her suitcase.

The others noticed her arrival, their eyes turning in her direction. She curled into a ball, avoiding their gazes.

The people who slept under bridges were usually one of a few types: homeless drifters with nothing to their name, out-of-town workers trying to save money, or idle thugs.

Among them were two such thugs. They were dressed better than the others and even had phones. They swaggered over to Latisha and whistled. “Hey, what’s a girl like you doing out here all alone?”

Latisha clutched her suitcase, keeping her head down and ignoring them.

They squatted down on either side of her, trapping her between them. The reek of stale cigarette smoke, unwashed bodies, and bad breath washed over her.

“We’re not bad guys. Come on, just talk to us.”

“Yeah, you’re dressed pretty nice. How’d you end up sleeping under a bridge like us?”

They pressed in on her, making it hard to breathe. She shot to her feet, trying to leave, but one of them grabbed her arm and yanked her back. She lost her balance and fell to the ground with a thud.

“I told you, we’re not bad guys. What are you running for? Say something.” The one on her left even put a hand on her shoulder.

Her heart hammered in her chest, her palms slick with sweat.

Seeing her fight so hard without making a sound, they became convinced she was a mute and grew bolder, dragging her toward an unlit area.

When she couldn't break free, terror gave her strength. She bent down and bit hard into one of the thug’s arms.

“Agh!” he yelped, shoving her away.

She tried to run, but the other one caught her, twisting her arm behind her back and immobilizing her.

The one she’d bitten grimaced, rubbing the teeth marks on his arm. He grabbed her face, squeezing her cheeks.

“She really is a mute,” he said, a nasty grin spreading across his face. He forced her jaw open with his other hand.

“Go on, bite me. Why aren’t you biting now?”

He shoved his filthy fingers into her mouth. With her cheeks pinned, she couldn’t close her jaw. His fingers tasted salty and foul, like they’d been soaked in brine. A wave of nausea rolled through her stomach, and her mouth filled with saliva.