How Did Val Kilmer Lose His Voice?

Deborah was abused all her life. During her childhood, she was mistreated by her stepmother and stepsiblings, causing her to lose her ability to speak due to the trauma. As an adult, she thought things would change when she married the man she loved, Roger Peterson, but he hated her with a passion and considered her a nuisance for being mute. Roger was always distant and never cared about the pain he caused her. Instead, his attention fell entirely on his childhood sweetheart, spoiling her and making her his mistress. Afraid of being alone, Deborah endured her marriage to Roger for three years, thinking that if she loved and understood him, he would notice her worth and leave his mistress. But she soon realized that would never happen and had reached her limit. Deborah wanted a divorce to seek her own happiness. Even if Roger refused to out of pride, she wouldn't give up because she had found a reason to fight for her right to live a happy life.

After my fiance’s childhood friend found out I was born with a heart condition, she secretly poured a high-dose energy drink into my champagne. The moment I drank it, my heart started racing, and stabbing pain spread through my chest. In a panic, I tore open my only emergency medication, but the water I used to take it had been swapped with strong lemon water. As soon as I drank it, my face went pale. I lost all strength and collapsed to the ground. “Lemon water’s full of vitamin C. It helps with hangovers and keeps you healthy.” Charlotte Whitmore laughed so hard she nearly doubled over. With her arms crossed, she looked at my fiance, Ethan Cross, the boss of the Rolling Stones. “Ethan, your fiancee’s acting is incredible! “I’ve been a doctor for years, and I’ve never seen anyone react like this to a little champagne and lemon water.” I bit my lip until I tasted blood. The pain made my eyes sting, and I clutched Ethan’s leg. “Honey, please, call an ambulance! I can’t take it anymore…” For a moment, his expression wavered, but the guests quickly cut in. “Come on, stop pretending! Nobody dies from a bit of champagne and lemon water.” “Yeah, you’re just jealous Charlotte got promoted and didn’t want to toast to her.” Ethan’s face turned cold again. He yanked my hand off and stepped away. “Charlotte’s a doctor. You’ll be fine with her here.” I stopped begging and texted my father asking for help.

I have a severe case of logorrhea. Only speaking makes me feel alive. My classmates all call me a freak, but Marvin Britt is the only one willing to listen to me. One day, I bring some homemade soup over to see him, only to catch him holding his junior's hand. "Lexie, your voice is so lovely, unlike my wife at home. She sounds like a squawking duck. It's exhausting." My hands shake so violently that I drop the thermal flask. The commotion angers a nearby madman, who forces a bottle of boiling water down my throat. With my mouth full of blood and blisters, I realize I need proof. I send Marvin—a lawyer—a frantic voice note to accompany me to the police station for evidence. Marvin shoots back a single word—"Noted". Of course. He doesn't even listen to it, as usual. He used to reply to everything I said with voice notes at least a minute long. But we hit the seven-year itch, and he's sick of my endless talking. Leaving the hospital, I stare at my diagnosis of permanent mutism and laugh bitterly. He must be thrilled. His world is finally quiet.

I was born with a cursed mouth, and I was the unluckiest baseborn daughter of Northcott Hall. When I was seven, my older half sister stole my only winter coat, and I cried that all ten of her fingers would rot with frost. The next day she fell through the lake ice, and every one of those ten fingers festered. When I was thirteen, my stepmother locked me in the woodshed with no food or water. I muttered that she'd see blood before sunset, and half an hour later a panicked stallion broke her ribs. After that, everyone in Northcott Hall called me a calamity. My father said I poisoned the house just by standing in it. My stepmother accused me of killing my grandmother and dumped me in a paupers' burial field. I lived on bark and roots, and all I wanted was to carry my mother's ashes home to the Veyra Highlands. I'd barely reached the city gate when Beatrice arrived with Crown Guards and blocked my path. "The Dowager Queen has ordered a noblewoman chosen to be buried with the Emperor. "If Northcott Hall gives up a daughter, the whole family is honored. "You're an embarrassment alive. At least your death can bring this house some glory." My father took the payment with his own hands and ordered the servants to nail me into the coffin. What they didn't know was that the Emperor wasn't dead at all. A few days earlier, at a palace banquet, I'd seen him standing in the winter wind and said, "Dressed that lightly, His Majesty may stop breathing from the cold tonight." Before dawn, the palace announced the Emperor had no pulse. I kicked the coffin lid open, looked around at a burial chamber full of royal treasure, and smiled. "Your Majesty, I've come to lift your curse."

My wife, Valerie Larson, had a congenital heart condition. Despite that, she still wanted to have a child with her first love, Eugene Dyer. I refused without a second thought. Ten months later, Eugene's mother, Susan Turner, passed away. Her eyes were still wide open as if refusing to accept death without ever holding her grandchild. Overcome with guilt for failing his mother, Eugene took his own life in his small, rundown apartment. Valerie, consumed by grief and anger, took us on a road trip, only to crash the car head-on into a truck without hesitation. She shouted, "It's your fault Eugene died! If you had let me give him a child, he never would have ended up like that! His whole family is gone, so yours doesn't deserve to live either!" When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day Valerie first asked to have Eugene's child. This time, I forced a small smile and said, "Darling, go ahead. Our whole family will support you."

The third time I caught my wife in bed with another man, I lost the ability to speak. Out of guilt, Helena spent a month teaching me to communicate with one and two. One meant yes. Two meant no. Whatever Helena said to me, if it had anything to do with Felix Danner, the answer was always one. She said Felix was in poor health and wanted to borrow the protective locket my mother left me. I answered one without hesitating. She wanted to push back our anniversary so Felix could have his birthday first. One. Even when she wanted to move the injured Felix into our house, I still answered one. And I packed my things and gave up the primary bedroom for him. Then I took our wedding portrait down off the wall. Her eyes filled and she caught my hand and wouldn't let go. "Simon, you told me that portrait never comes down unless we're divorced. Are you telling me you want a divorce?" She saw the one already forming on my mouth. Helena came apart and started screaming at me. "Simon, don't you dare say one. There is nothing wrong with your vocal cords. You can talk. So talk to me!" A second later, afraid she'd frightened me, she gentled her voice. "Simon. Say two. Please say two." I pulled my hand free and looked at her, honestly puzzled. Had she forgotten what she signed the year she loved me most? Two chances if she was ever unfaithful. A third time, and the filing instructions and settlement went into effect on their own. They'd gone into effect a month earlier.