Chapter 1 Silent Suffering

"Stop."

Beverly moved her hands in the dark, making the word with sign language. Her fingers shook as she tried to tell him to stop, but Diro couldn't see her signs. Or maybe he could see them and just didn't care.

His body pressed down on her, making it hard to breathe. Three years. Three whole years of this, and her heart still beat fast with fear every time he touched her with those cold hands.

The expensive silk sheets felt rough against her skin. She lived in this fancy house, married to one of the most powerful men in the city, but she was dying inside little by little.

"If you don't want this, then talk," Diro said in a mean voice. "Open your mouth and scream. Tell me you don't want it."

His words hurt worse than a slap. Beverly's chest got tight and she couldn't breathe properly. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew she couldn't speak, couldn't scream, couldn't say no out loud. Her hands moved quickly in the dark, signing desperately.

Please, Diro. Please stop.

But he wasn't looking. He never looked at her signs.

You're doing this because you know I can't talk,she thought angrily. You know I'm mute, so you just do whatever you want. When will you treat me like your wife instead of like a toy you can break?

Suddenly she remembered when they were younger. Diro was fifteen and had bloody knuckles from fighting Tommy Richardson, who had pushed Beverly in the mud and called her "the freak who can't talk." Back then, Diro had protected her.

"Nobody touches her," teenage Diro had said angrily. "Nobody."

Where was that boy now? Where was the man who used to look at her like she was special?

He was gone. That Diro died on their wedding day three years ago when this cold stranger said words that broke her heart.

"Don't fall in love with me," he had said without any feeling. "I'm only marrying you because my grandfather felt sorry for you. If not for that, I wouldn't even touch you. I don't care about you. You know I don't love you, so don't make the mistake of loving me back. I'm just doing this because a dead man wanted me to."

But it was too late. She already loved him then, and she still loved him now.

Beverly turned away from him, curling up like a hurt animal. Moving her body away was the only way she could say no. She felt him stop and get frustrated.

"Fine," he said with disgust. "Just lie there like you're dead. Like a corpse."

Those words hurt more than if he had hit her. Beverly made a small, broken sound. Something inside her chest cracked - not broke completely, because there wasn't much left to break.

He rolled off her roughly, making the bed shake. Beverly heard him slam the bathroom door so hard the whole room shook. Only then did she let herself cry, quiet tears that soaked into her pillow.

The shower turned on. And Beverly lay there staring at the ceiling, wondering how much more of herself she could lose.

Morning came and felt like punishment.

Beverly got out of bed slowly. Her body hurt in ways that weren't just physical. She moved like a ghost through their fancy bedroom. The morning sunlight coming through the windows felt wrong, too bright for how dark she felt inside.

That's when she saw it.

Diro's phone was on his nightstand, showing a message that made her feel sick.

"Can't believe you went home to that mute bitch after our sweet date last night. When are you going to love me like you always say you do? When are you going to start showing it? - F"

The phone almost slipped from Beverly's hands. She caught it just in time, but the damage was done. Those words burned into her mind.

Mute bitch.

That's what Faye called her. That's what the woman sleeping with her husband thought of her. And Diro probably laughed when she said it.

Beverly's eyes filled with tears. The room seemed to spin. The last bit of hope she had been holding onto finally died.

The bathroom door opened.

Beverly quickly put on the blank face she had learned to wear over three years of this life. Diro came out with steam around him, wearing only a towel. He was handsome - had always been handsome - and that somehow made everything hurt worse.

His dark eyes got narrow when he saw her near his phone.

"Did you see anything on my phone?"

The question hung in the air. Beverly shook her head, lying easily. She had become good at hiding the pain he caused her every day.

"Good." But he didn't sound like he believed her. "Go make breakfast. Now."

Beverly nodded and ran away, desperate to get away from him. Behind her, she heard him grab his phone and delete the message.

In the kitchen, Beverly's hands shook as she reached for a pan. Tears came suddenly, hot and fast. Through the tears, she couldn't see properly.

Her hand touched the hot stove and pain shot through her palm. A sound came from her throat - raw and barely human. The pan crashed to the floor.

Footsteps ran toward the kitchen.

"What the hell-" can't you be careful for once?"

Beverly stared at him through her tears, holding her burned hand against her chest. Even her pain was wrong in his eyes.

He grabbed her wrist roughly and dragged her to get medical supplies. He cleaned her burn like she was just an object, not caring if he hurt her. Beverly watched his face, looking for any sign of the boy who used to take care of her when she got hurt.

Nothing. There was nothing there but coldness.

"This better heal fast," he said, wrapping her hand. "Tomorrow is my mother's birthday, and I don't want you looking like some hurt animal. Make sure you look good. When I get back tonight, we're going to the party."

He let go of her hand and walked away, leaving her standing in the kitchen with her bandaged hand and broken heart.

Beverly looked at the medical tape around her hand and wondered if this was what dying felt like - not all at once, but slowly, piece by piece, until nothing was left.

Tomorrow's party felt like something terrible waiting for her. More shame. More pain. More proof that in the Carter family, she was nothing but a pretty ghost.

The silence pressed around her, and for the first time in three years, Beverly wondered if maybe it was time to stop hoping for something good that would never come.