Finding My Voice Novels & Stories

he bellowed, the raw power of his voice echoing through the darkness, sending shockwaves through the air. My own voice quivered, a fragile thread of sound that struggled to find its footing amidst the chaos of the moment. "Th-that, I th-think I pressed it, mistakenly," I stammered, my words hanging in the air like a fragile confession, barely audible above the tumultuous symphony of emotions that surrounded us.

the voice said. “Who are you?” I asked looking around without caring that i looked crazy. “There's only one way to find out, come” the voice said

I was on my way when I heard someone is calling my name. I tried to find the voice but it slowly faded from the darkness. When I was five, I heard the same voice, it's like a voice coming from within, a voice which I've to know before.

I walked until I reached the gardens, until I could breathe again, until the sun hit my face and reminded me that I was still alive. Behind me, I heard shouting. Running footsteps. But for the first time in months, I didn't care. I had found my voice. And I was done being silent.

The water washed over my face, mixing with the tears I didn’t even realize were still falling. My hands trembled as I touched my throat. Nothing, just silence. I opened my mouth slowly. Nothing came out. Just air. My chest tightened. I pressed my hand harder against my throat like I could force a sound out. Like something would come back if I tried hard enough. Nothing. I shut my eyes tight, shaking my head. No. No… I hit the wall lightly, frustrated. This couldn’t be my life, not like this. Not without my voice. Not here.

My voice sounded far away. “You sound weird. Did something happen with—” “I need to check something,” I cut her off. “Can I come by later?” I hung up before she could answer. I spent the morning tearing through old cloud drives, old phones in my drawer. Found a voice memo from 2019. 2 minutes long. My voice, younger, quieter: "If I ever get out of this house and this marriage and this God, I want someone to see all of me and not flinch. Even the parts I’m ashamed of. Especially those."

The admission hung between us, heavy with meaning neither of us was quite ready to address. “What about your voice?” Callum asked, shifting the subject slightly. “Why reveal it now after months of keeping it hidden?” I set down my coffee cup and considered how to explain. “I need people to hear my truth directly,” I said. “Not through text-to-speech or interpreters or other people speaking for me. When I do the press conference exposing my family, I need to use my own words, my own voice. Otherwise people can dismiss it as manufactured or coached.” “That makes sense,” Callum said. “But you know it's going to be overwhelming, right? The media will have questions about why you hid your recover

Despite my nerves, I found myself drawn to him even more. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the thick tension between us. I knew I had to speak up before my nerves got the best of me. But as I opened my mouth to speak, I could feel my voice trembling. I fought to keep it steady and clear, “Brian, can we talk?”

“I don’t know how to start this.” “Start anywhere.” “I knew what I was doing.” It comes out barely above a whisper. “When I said it. I knew. I went looking for the worst possible thing I could find and I found it and I—” I suck in a sharp breath. Then another. And somewhere between the second breath and the third, my voice stops shaking and starts steadying. I lift my head and meet his gaze.

She stood, walked to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water, and whispered to herself, “You belong here, Luna. Don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise.” this is your home.