Chapter 4 - The Voice of the Silent
Claire flew out of the hospital, taking a taxi straight back to her house. When she burst through the front door, the living room was in disarray. Mark had cleared out his closet. The family safe, which contained her grandmother’s jewelry and the deed to the house, was wide open and empty.
Mark was gone.
Claire ran into the bedroom. Eleanor lay in the dark, her breathing shallow, her eyes wide with a terrifying level of panic. She had clearly heard Mark packing, clearly realized her son was abandoning her.
"Eleanor," Claire sobbed, rushing to her side and lifting her up to give her water. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry I left you alone with him."
Eleanor gripped Claire’s sleeve with her good hand. Her fingers dug in with surprising strength. She opened her mouth, her lower lip trembling violently as she tried to form words through the damage of her stroke.
"M... M..." Eleanor choked out.
"Don't strain yourself, Eleanor," Claire cried, wiping her mother-in-law's brow.
"M... Mark..." Eleanor suddenly said, the word clear and heavy. A single, bitter tear rolled down the old woman's wrinkled cheek. She looked at Claire with an expression of profound apology. She reached over and pointed feebly toward the old wooden nightstand beside her bed.
Claire opened the drawer. Beneath a stack of old handkerchiefs was a small, micro-cassette recorder—an old device Eleanor used to use to record her thoughts before her stroke.
Claire pressed play.
May you like
The tape hissed, and then Mark’s voice filled the room from a recording dated just three days ago.
"Look, Mom," Mark’s recorded voice sneered, cold and venomous. "You need to shut up and stop making those noises when Claire is home. Vanessa and I are almost done. Once Claire signs the final equity release for the library's anniversary fund, we’re putting you in a state-run facility and heading to Florida. Claire thinks she’s a savior, but she’s just a ATM."
