Sound is an abstract concept for most people. We
spend our lives blocking out the static in order to focus on what we believe is
important. But what if, when the clarity fades into silence, it's the obscure
background noise that you would give anything to hold on to?
I've always been a fighter.
With parents who barely managed to stay out of jail and two little brothers who
narrowly avoided foster care, I became skilled at dodging the punches life
threw at me. Growing up, I didn’t have anything I could call my own, but from
the moment I met Eliza Reynolds, she was always
mine. I became utterly addicted to her
and the escape from reality we provided each other. Throughout the years, she
had boyfriends and I had girlfriends, but there wasn't a single night that I
didn’t hear her voice.
You see,
meeting the love of my life at age thirteen was never part of my plan. However,
neither was gradually going deaf at the age of twenty-one.
They both
happened anyway.
Now, I'm
on the ropes during the toughest battles of my life.
Fighting
for my career.
Fighting
the impending silence.
Fighting for her.
Every night, just before falling asleep, she sighs
as a final conscious breath leaves her.
I think that's the sound I'll miss the most.
Excerpt
"That
wasn't yours to take away," he exploded into the otherwise silent night.
His words echoed off the surrounding buildings, each wave slicing me to the
quick all over again. "That was our
place. Not yours." His voice cracked right alongside my heart.
"Yeah,
well, there was a lot of stuff that wasn't yours to take either." I held
his gaze, desperately trying to be strong, but as his eyes grew wide, I
whimpered.
His long
legs strode forward, stopping only inches away from me. He was crowding me, but
he still leaned in closer to my face. "There is nothing in this world that
was ever more mine than you," he stated. Though it was the absolute truth,
I wished with all my heart that it were a lie.
"Till,"
I cried, swiping the tears from my eyes.
"Why!"
he shouted, causing his muscles to tense under the force. "Goddamn it! I
needed that place."
Porch
lights flashed on from the surrounding apartments, illuminating not only the
dark but also my rage.
I shoved
my hands into his chest. "What about what I needed? You left! I waited in
that fucking apartment for weeks."
He didn't
budge, but my bare feet slipped, sending me toward the ground. Impossibly fast,
Till's hand snaked out and caught my arm. I didn't let his chivalrous gesture
douse my fire. I had six months’ worth of words to say to the man I was
irrevocably in love with.
"You
took what you wanted. Then you left me."
"Doodle,"
he whispered.
I had
been perilously close to the edge of insanity, and with one single word, he’d
pushed me over.
I lost it
completely.
Pounding
my fists against his chest, I screamed at the top of my lungs, "It's
Eliza! My name is fucking Eliza! Not Doodle!" I spun to march away, but
Till's arms folded around me, lifting me off my feet to restrain me.
I was
miniscule compared to him. There was no use in fighting, but I still kicked my
legs, irrationally desperate to get away from him—but only because I knew I
couldn't keep him for forever.
"Stop
it!" he growled into my ear. "I know your Goddamn name—probably
better than I know my own."
About The Author
Born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, Aly Martinez is a stay-at-home mom to four crazy kids under the age of five, including a set of twins. Currently living in South Carolina, she passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a glass of wine at her side.
After some encouragement from her friends, Aly decided to add “Author” to her ever-growing list of job titles. Five books later, she shows no signs of slowing. So grab a glass of Chardonnay, or a bottle if you’re hanging out with Aly, and join her aboard the crazy train she calls life.
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