Chapter 2: The Cost Of Silence

The air in the dining room was heavy from the moment breakfast began. No one said anything at first. Plates were set, food was served, and chairs scraped lightly against the floor as everyone ate. It looked like a normal morning, but it did not feel like one.

Natasha sat quietly, her hands resting near her plate. She had not touched her food. Across from her, Martha ate slowly, as if nothing was wrong. Evelyn sat beside Josh, her posture calm, her attention focused on her meal.

Josh kept his eyes on his plate.

The silence stretched, and it became unbearable.

Natasha lifted her head slightly. If no one would speak for her, then she would speak for herself.

“Don’t you think you are being unfair to me, Mother?” she said, her voice was low, controlled, but it carried clearly across the table.

Martha did not look up immediately. She continued eating for a moment before placing her cutlery down. “I am only stating what I see,” she replied.

Natasha let out a quiet breath. “You know that is not true. I have always done my part in this house. I have contributed to keeping everything running, and you know that.”

Martha finally looked at her. “And I am telling you what I see. If you do not like it, that does not make it false.”

The words were calm, but they stung. Natasha felt them land. Her fingers tightened slightly on the table.

“Enough,” Josh said suddenly, cutting through the tension. “There is no reason for us to turn breakfast into a battlefield.”

Natasha turned to him immediately. “Is that all you have to say?” she asked.

Josh looked at her, but he did not respond.

“You saw what happened,” she continued. “You heard what your mother said to me, yet you chose to say nothing.” Her voice was no longer as controlled as they used to be. She let out a bitter laugh. “She served you and Evelyn breakfast, and she served herself. But me? She did not serve me.”

No one spoke.

“The first thing she said to me this morning was an insult,” Natasha added. “Who wakes up and tells their daughter-in-law that she slept like a log, as if that is something to be ashamed of?”

Josh rubbed his forehead slightly. “You are taking this too far, Natasha. Let it go.”

Natasha stared at him. For a moment, she wanted to argue. She wanted to push back, to make him understand how it felt. But she stopped herself, closed her eyes briefly and took a slow breath. No, this was not worth it. Martha was not worth it.

She had chosen Josh, not his mother. When she opened her eyes again, her expression had changed. The anger was still there, but it was softer now, pushed down.

Josh stood up. “If you are done eating, we should head out,” he said. “We need more supplies.”

He did not wait for a response. He walked out of the dining room without looking back. The silence that followed was heavier than before.

Evelyn lowered her gaze.

Martha picked up her cutlery again and continued eating. Natasha remained seated. But she did not speak again.

…….

Later that day, two trucks rolled back into the base. The sound of engines filled the compound as they rolled through the gates. Men jumped down from the backs, their faces tired but satisfied.

It had been a successful run.

Supplies were unloaded quickly. Boxes, bags, and containers were carried into storage. There was a sense of relief among the men. They had brought back enough to last for a while. But not everyone shared that feeling.

Josh stepped down from one of the trucks, his expression serious. Natasha stepped down from another. Neither of them spoke to each other. They went in different directions.

Natasha headed straight for the clinic. The moment she stepped inside, she knew something was wrong.

Two patients lay on the treatment beds. Their bodies were tense, their breathing uneven. Two nurses stood nearby, trying to keep them stable.

“What happened?” Natasha asked as she moved closer.

Before anyone could answer, a woman rushed toward her.

“Doctor, please,” she cried. “My daughter and her friend went out this morning. They came back like this. Please save them.”

Natasha placed a hand gently on the woman’s arm. “Calm down. Let me take a look.”

She stepped closer to the beds, but her expression shifted immediately. The girls were sweating heavily. Their bodies trembled with uncontrolled spasms. Their breathing was irregular.

This was not normal.

Natasha leaned in and carefully turned one of them onto her side. Her eyes scanned the body quickly. Then she saw it. A scratch, it was small, almost unnoticeable. But she knew what it meant.

Her heart sank. She moved to the second girl and checked her as well. She saw another scratch. This time on the arm.

Natasha straightened slowly. Her voice came out low. “They have been infected.”

The room froze.

“No,” the woman said immediately. “No, that is not possible. Please, do something. You have to save them.” Tears streamed down her face.

Natasha did not waste time. “Rachel, Maya,” she called, her voice firm. “Take her outside. Seal the clinic. No one comes in until I say so.”

The nurses moved quickly. “Yes, Doctor.”

They guided the woman out, despite her protests. The door shut behind them, and the clinic fell into a tense silence. Natasha turned back to the girls. She knew what this meant, she knew what usually followed, and she knew she did not have time.

She moved to the cabinet and pulled out what she needed. A syringe. Medical supplies. Clean gauze.

Her hands were steady, but her mind was racing. There was only one option, and it came with a cost.

Natasha took a breath, then she acted. She drew her own blood. The needle pierced her skin, and she filled the syringe carefully. Enough for both girls.

Her body reacted almost immediately. A wave of weakness passed through her, but she ignored it—stepped back to the first girl and administered the injection—Then the second.

Her movements were precise. She worked quickly, adjusting their positions, checking their breathing, making sure they remained stable.

Minutes passed—Then more. The convulsions began to slow, and their breathing steadied slightly.

It was working, but the cost was beginning to show. Natasha’s vision blurred. Her hands trembled slightly. She held onto the edge of the bed to steady herself.

Not yet.

She still had to finish. She checked their vitals again, then stepped back. Her breathing was heavier now, and her body felt cold. She moved toward the door and knocked. It opened immediately.

The nurses stood outside, waiting.

“Clean their wounds,” Natasha said, her voice strained. “Monitor their temperature. Keep them stable for the next two hours.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

Natasha nodded once. Then she turned and walked out.

She moved quickly through the hallway, her steps uneven now. Sweat formed along her forehead. Her veins had begun to glow faintly beneath her skin.

She kept her head down. No one needed to see her like this. The main building was quiet when she entered. No one was in the sitting area.

Good.

She did not slow down. She reached her room and shut the door behind her, locking it immediately. Her breath came out in short bursts. Then she rushed into the bathroom and collapsed onto the tiled floor.

Her body shook violently. The cold surface beneath her did nothing to ease it. Her vision darkened, and her veins pulsed beneath her skin, glowing faintly.

She pressed her hand against her chest, trying to control her breathing, but her body was no longer responding the way it should.

Her eyes rolled back, and then—everything went still. Natasha collapsed completely—unconscious.