CHAPTER TWO: HER SILENCE
[The quieter you become, the more you can hear.]
Rain tapped gently against the windowpanes of the criminology lecture hall, soft as secrets. The room buzzed with voices—laughing, whispering, gossiping like bees circling sugar. But in the corner of the back row, silence sat wrapped in a hoodie.
Zareina Ravyn.
Mask on.
Lenses dulling the glow of her mismatched eyes.
Glasses thick enough to drown curiosity.
She didn't fidget. She didn't blink. She listened—and watched.
While others scribbled notes or passed messages, Zareina absorbed everything. The lecture. The faces. The tone of a voice when it lies. The twitch of a hand before it snapped.
She existed like a shadow in daylight—seen but dismissed.
"Class dismissed!" the professor called as the clock struck.
Chairs scraped. Bags zipped. And then-
"Hey," came a high, melodic voice too rehearsed to be kind.
Lisa Calderón
The queen of fake smiles. Blonde curls. Glitter gloss. Followers that moved like perfume trails—empty but lingering. She approached Zareina's desk with that same syrupy confidence she wore like designer perfume.
Zareina didn't move.
"I was just wondering," Lisa continued, fake concern dripping, "do you even talk, or are you just, like, permanently mute?"
No reply.
Lisa tried to keep her smile intact, but her eyes twitched.
Her posse giggled behind her. One of them muttered, "Maybe she doesn't speak human."
Another: "Probably mute and blind. Did you see those ugly glasses?"
Zareina rose calmly, collecting her books with silent grace. She didn't spare them a glance.
She didn't need to.
Lisa's smile faltered. Just for a second.
Because no matter how hidden Zareina stayed, the air always shifted around her. Like it knew something no one else did.
As Zareina walked out, Lisa whispered bitterly, "He still chose you."
-—--—
It was later that evening.
The rain had thickened, turning the campus paths into glistening trails. Students huddled under umbrellas, heading home.
Zareina took the alley.
She always did.
Concrete walls rose on either side. Dim lights flickered overhead. Most people avoided it. But she found comfort in the quiet.
Until—
A scream.
Not distant. Not imagined.
Her pace slowed. Eyes narrowed.
Another scream—desperate. Feminine.
Then a voice:
"Help! Please—someone!"
Zareina turned the corner and saw her.
Lisa.
Pushed against a wall, makeup streaked, mascara bleeding with rain. Three men surrounded her, laughing. Hungry. One grabbed her wrist, another reached for her hair.
Lisa saw Zareina.
Her eyes widened with terror and… hope?
"You—! Please! Help me!"
Zareina looked at her for a moment.
Expressionless.
Still.
Then she turned and began to walk away.
Lisa's face broke.
"Please… I'm sorry! I didn't mean anything I said—just… please!"
She crumbled to her knees, shaking, broken in ways lip gloss couldn't hide. She closed her eyes.
Rain now poured like grief from the heavens, soaking the alleyway in cold shadows and blurred neon reflections. Lisa's breath hitched, her arms instinctively covering herself, legs trembling as she tried to back away. The three men who cornered her weren't just drunk—they were cruel. And they smelled like it. Cheap smoke. Cheap anger. Cheap power.
"Lemme touch that pretty face, princess," one slurred, gripping her chin roughly.
Lisa whimpered and tried to turn away.
"Don't—please—I didn't do anything—"
They didn't care.
Men like them never did.
A hand gripped her shoulder. Another was already unbuckling his belt.
And then—
The air shifted.
Like something ancient had just opened its eyes.
THWACK.
A sickening crack echoed as the tallest man's body jolted forward, then slammed into the wall beside Lisa. Blood trickled from his nose. He slid to the ground, dazed.
THUD.
The second barely had time to react. He turned—
Only to be lifted by the collar and slammed down onto a trash bin with enough force to dent it. Metal groaned. He went limp.
The third ran toward the attacker with a crowbar raised, screaming like a beast. He was bigger than her. Stronger. Wilder.
Didn't matter.
Zareina moved like water cutting through stone. She caught the weapon mid-swing. Her hand barely twitched as she twisted it out of his grasp—and drove her knee into his gut. He collapsed with a gasp, choking.
Lisa could only stare.
Was it fear?
Was it awe?
No. It was silence.
The kind that steals breath.
Zareina turned toward her.
Mask dripping. Hoodie clinging to her shoulders. Her chest rose and fell gently, as if she'd just stretched—nothing more. Her hand reached up…
…and pulled off the glasses.
And her eyes-those mismatched eyes—glowed faintly in the dark. One gold. One violet. Both burning.
She looked at Lisa, just for a second.
Lisa looked up through blurred tears.
She felt her breath vanish. Not from fear… but something deeper. Her body refused to move. Her mind blanked. Her lips parted—but no words came.
And Lisa understood.
It wasn't just mismatched eyes.
They weren't just glowing.
They were alive.
One shimmered like a storm—amber and burning.
The other swirled like an ocean in moonlight—violet and deep.
Lisa's knees buckled.
Zareina took a step forward, just one, and Lisa's heart nearly stopped. Something slithered into her mind. A whisper. A warmth. A command not given with words, but with presence.
She couldn't move. Couldn't blink. Couldn't look away.
Zareina's voice broke the storm:
"When people scream for help… they remember how they screamed at others first."
A heavy silence hung in the air between the two girls, each lost in her own thoughts, the tension palpable as they measured their unspoken words.
Zareina's voice finally slipped out.
Quiet. Velvet.
"Go home."
A tear slid down Lisa's cheek.
" I-I'm sorry…"
Zareina said nothing.
Just turned away.
She pulled her glasses back on, masking the glow. Her hood cast her in shadow again. The silence returned to her like a cloak.
As she disappeared into the alley's darkness, the rain washed away everything.
Even the sound of her steps.
---
Lisa didn't move for minutes.
When she finally did, she looked toward the exit of the alley. It was empty.
But in her chest…
It was the beginning of fear.
Not of Zareina hurting her.
But what would it mean if she ever decided to stop helping?
(To Be Continued)