The Silence in the Shadows

She was only 8.

To the world, she was just a quiet little girl with soft eyes and a shy smile. But behind her silence was a storm no one could hear. Her name is not important—because her story could be anyone’s. Your niece. Your neighbor. Your student. Your daughter.

He was Peguy a man trusted by the family, always around, always helpful, always too close.

No one saw what happened when the lights were off.

No one noticed how she flinched when he entered the room.

When the house grew quiet and the footsteps faded, the monster would crawl out of his mask. He would whisper threats with a smile. Then, he’d hurt her. Touch her. Break her.

She didn’t have the words to explain.

How do you tell someone your soul is being stolen, when they only see you playing with dolls?

But Peguy knew what he was doing.

During the day, he was the strict adult.

He’d yell at her for being “lazy,” slap her when she “talked back.”

In front of others, he was the “disciplinarian.”

Behind closed doors, he was the demon.

She tried to hide under beds, in closets, behind doors—anywhere that felt safer than being alone with him.

But her hiding spots never lasted long.

The worst part?

No one believed she had a reason to be scared.

They just said, “Peguy is teaching her..”

They didn’t see the bruises he left on her skin and the deeper ones on her spirit.

And every night she cried in silence.

Not because she wanted help.

Because she no longer believed help existed.....

New Country, Same Hell

The Pain That Followed Her

She thought the nightmare had ended.

When she left the island with her aunt, everyone said it was a new beginning.

They said she would be safe now.

That “those things” were behind her.

But monsters don’t stay in one place.

Some have passports too.

And sometimes, they smile with lipstick and call themselves “aunties.”

In this cold new country, she didn’t understand the language,but pain needs no translation.

Tatie was supposed to protect her.

Instead, she became a prison warden with perfume.

At first, it was just strange.

Tatie would make her sleep in the same bed.

She said, “You don’t need pajamas, you’re a baby.”

She’d touch her while brushing her hair. Too long. Too low.

Then, the whispers returned.

Soft, sharp, sickening.

“Be a good girl or I’ll send you back.”

“No one will believe you here either.”

At night, it happened again.

The same fear.

The same shame.

Except now, it came with a woman’s breath, warm and wicked against her skin.

No fists. No bruises.

Only wounds where no one could see.

Only tears that dried before anyone woke up.

The girl tried to tell someone at school once.

But her English was broken like her spirit.

The counselor smiled and nodded,

then sent her right back into the arms of the one who called herself “family.”

She was 13 years old now.

Old enough to know that love wasn’t supposed to hurt like this.

Old enough to understand that running never works when the pain lives inside you.

And so she learned to fake sleep, to fake smiles, to fake life.

But her eyes never lied.

They screamed.

Every day.

Silently...

Her Last Whisper

The Letter No One Wanted to Read

She was only 15 when she decided the pain had to end.

Not because she wanted to die.

But because she didn’t know how to live anymore.

Every night, she lay in bed with her eyes wide open, afraid to sleep.

Every day, she walked through the world like a ghost.

No one saw her.

No one heard her.

No one believed her.

When she tried to tell her teacher about the things Tatie did, they said, “Maybe you misunderstood.”

When she told a cousin, they laughed nervously and told her to “stop making up stories.”

Even the school counselor, the one with the gentle voice, never called back after her report.

They saw her failing grades.

Her sudden silence.

The way she flinched when someone touched her shoulder.

But they didn’t ask why.

They just said, “She’s troubled.”

She started to believe them.

That she was the problem.

That maybe it was her fault.

That maybe being hurt over and over again meant she deserved it.

And so one morning, before school, while Tatie was in the shower, she walked quietly to the closet.

She opened a box where Tatie kept pills. She took a handful,she didn’t count.

She just swallowed them like candy.

Then, she laid down in bed, curled up with her stuffed bear, and closed her eyes—not in fear this time, but in peace.

Before she did, she left a letter.

It was crumpled, shaky, written in a mix of broken English and Spanish .

But the words were clear.

⸻

The Letter

“If you find me, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to die. I just didn’t know how to live anymore. Peguy touched me when I was little and everyone thought he was a good man. But he wasn’t. He hurt me. All the time. I tried to forget. But then Tatie did it too. She said if I talked, I would go back. But I would rather be nowhere. I told people. I did. I promise I tried. But nobody listened. I wanted to scream so bad. But screaming only made them mad. I’m tired now. Please don’t let this happen to another kid like me. Please believe them next time.”