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She's been in the Home for two weeks but no one has ever heard her speak. Nobody knows how her voice sounds like. She averts her eyes whenever the staff tries to approach her. She avoids any contact, except when she needs to have her daily shots. Only the nurse who administers her medicine has been able to touch her. And even that nurse has never been able to talk to her.
"What's her story, then?"
RJ, the new social worker assigned to the Home asks the Administrator. The Administrator sighs and explains that not much is known about her. She was brought to the Home from the Women's prison, with only very few records on who she is and where she's been.
The Administrator said that she's only twenty two years old, and at that age, she's already been in and out of prison, with various records of drug possession, shoplifting, and, at one point, caught in a raid of one of the motels.
She's young, yet she's been through so much.
RJ took her records from the Administrator to study them. He wants to understand a bit more about her, before he gets near her. He noticed her soon as he stepped inside the Home, seeing how she never mingles with anyone. She's always hunched over the notebook that she has.
She writes. That's promising.
He learns that besides being quiet and keeping to herself, she will always have her notebook with her, writing rather furiously.
In the next days, RJ observes her from afar, slowly inching his way to her corner in the big common room. He notices that when she isn't writing, she scans the room and observes everyone. And oftentimes, since he arrived, she stares at him for a few seconds before taking her eyes off him and continue writing. He could feel her eyes boring into his soul each time. Like she's reading through him. He senses that she is also studying him.
It was after lunch on the seventh day since he first arrived, when he approached her table. There were very few people in the common room. She was again writing on her notebook, occasionally raising her head to look at those who were still lounging in the room.
"Can I sit with you?"
She raised her head ever so slightly and looked at him. She didn't respond and then went back to writing. Since she didn't seem to refuse, RJ sat down across her.
"My name is RJ."
She went on writing, not acknowledging what RJ just said. RJ wanted to peek at what she's writing but she cleverly has her arm around the notebook.
"Is it ok if we talk for a while?"
She still ket on writing, but this time she scribbled something on a page her notebook and handed it to RJ.
NO
RJ smiled.
"That's ok. I'll talk, you can just listen."
She stared at him, her eyes expressionless. RJ continued talking.
"I'm a bit new here so I'm still trying to work my way around. The lunch they served was quite good, I should say. Of course it's not the kind of home-cooked food that you would probably want, but it had a hint of that, don't you think?"
RJ could sense that she was indeed listening, but he couldn't tell what her expression was. Her eyes, though it looked tired, were the most beautiful pair he has ever seen. And for some reason, as she stares at him, he could feel pain and longing. For what, he was determined to find out.
He kept on talking, until she stood up and left him. RJ shook his head as he stared at her retreating back. He was about to stand up and leave when he saw that she left a written note.
YOU TALK TOO MUCH.
//
For the next seven days RJ sat with her and talked to her. He wanted her to slowly be comfortable with him, and he was elated when each day she would hand him scribbled notes before she stands up and leave.
YOU'RE ANNOYING.
PLEASE STOP.
ENOUGH.
The notes she leaves him with do not offend him, and instead it makes him more eager to coax her out of her bubble. And he noticed that every time she leaves, she would stare at him a little longer.
He thought he even saw her lips twitch, hinting an almost smile.
//
"What happened?"
RJ rushed to the clinic when he learned that she was brought there after lunch, a possible case of allergic reaction to one of the dishes served. She was lying on her side, the nurse giving her a shot of antihistamine. RJ went to her side to look at her. Her eyes were shut, possibly feeling the pain from the flow of medicine through her veins that the nurse just injected. He learned from the nurse that she suddenly collapsed after a few bites of the dish, and that the staff were quick to bring her to the clinic. They forced her to vomit, causing her to feel weaker.
He stared at her, wanting to pull her close into his arms and tell her that everything's going to be fine, but he had to stop himself. This isn't just any girl, she's a case study for him, whose barriers he needs to break through so that they would know better how to help her.
"Rest, you'll need it. I'll be back tomorrow to see you."
As he turned away to leave, he felt a soft but firm hand grab his arm. He looked back at her, meeting a pair of eyes looking at him. Then he heard her.
STAY. PLEASE.
It took RJ almost a minute before he could even understand what just happened. She spoke, he heard her voice. It was weak, but it was a sweet sound. He took her hand, but she was quick to pull it away. She was still looking at him.
