What You Do Speaks So Loudly Novels & Stories

“Okay fine, I'll talk. But I assure you that they can hear you. They can hear what you're saying now.” I wanted to tell the illiterate that it had a thing to do with bugs being naked in his office and house.

he rebukes me in a subtle threatening tone, I know he wants to keep him calm. I'm curious why you care to hear my answer. Because, if he told me that talking can change this situation, he would be able to find the strength to utter a word, but I know it's not like that, talking has improved nothing in my life. "Speak Now! I demand that you break your damn silence!”

“What the fuck just happened?” “DO Y’ALL WANNA HEAR MORE LITTLE SECRETS?” the voice blasted through the speakers again, loud as hell.

“I can say something.” “No.” “I don’t mean punch anyone.” “I’m glad we’ve reached that level of personal growth.” “I was thinking more of a speech.” She stops walking. “A speech?” “Yeah.” “No.” “Why?” “Because every time something happens, everyone makes it about us.” “It is about us.” “That’s exactly the problem.” Her voice isn’t angry. Just tired. “I don’t want an assembly. I don’t want you standing on a cafeteria table declaring your love. I don’t want everybody discussing whether I’ve forgiven you enough or whether you’ve suffered enough.”

“I vow to never again let fear—yours or mine—silence me,” I said. “To listen when you speak, even if what you say hurts. To fight for the ones who have the least voice among us, because I know too well what it is to be spoken over.” I took a breath, the last words heavier than the rest.

A young socialite whispered too loudly, “My God, she sounds like a trafficker of reputations.” Cynthia’s brittle smile cracked. Her words cut out of the speakers again and again, each recording playing like a dagger twisting deeper. She opened her mouth, her voice trembling only slightly as she forced out, “Those recordings are doctored. Fabrications. No jury, no sane person, would take them seriously.”

Isabella stood beside Julien, her hands locked around his as she;ocked her gaze on me. "Good evening," I began, holding a small smile on my face. "Thank you for coming." The room quieted as all eyes finally settled on me. I spoke about the foundation, the children it served and the difference their donations would make. The words came automatically because I’ve given this speech a dozen times before. I just added a few new things so it doesn’t sound revamped. In between, my phone buzzed. I ignored it. It buzzed again, and again and it was clear someone was sending multiple messages. And the consistency made it seem urgent.

“Doing what?” “Being all... you,” she said, gesturing vaguely. “Quiet. Intense. Like you’re waiting for me to say something profound.” “Not waiting for profound,” I said. “Just listening.” “Listening,” she repeated, nodding. “That’s another thing. You listen. Most people don’t. They just wait for their turn to talk. But you? You hear everything.” “Only when it’s worth hearing,” I said, and she laughed again. “Okay, see? That’s what I mean. You barely say anything, but when you do, it’s—what’s the word—weighty.”

"Not only do I want to poison you, I also want your legs to break at the hips, and your flesh to fester and ooze pus. I want you to be a cripple, bedridden for the rest of your life." Jackie's expression changed dramatically upon hearing that. "What kind of nonsense are you saying…" He was about to yell at me when suddenly, a crisp snap was heard. His legs bent backward at an extremely bizarre angle. "AAH!!!" He let out an extremely tragic scream and crashed heavily to the floor.

My heartbeat felt too loud in my ears, but I forced myself to keep speaking. “Because you already know what it feels like to lose something fundamental to who you are,” I said quietly. “Even if you don’t want to admit it.”