Eva's pov
The bruise hurts the most when I blink.
It's a dull, throbbing ache that sits just beneath my eye, pulsing gently every time I move my face. My lip is worse. The skin there is split, swollen, and every time it brushes against my teeth it stings.
I keep my head down as I walk to school.
The hood of my sweatshirt is pulled low over my face, shadowing most of my features. My hands stay shoved deep inside the pocket so no one can see how slightly they tremble.
The morning air is cool.
It feels good against my burning skin.
Each step sends a faint ache through my ribs where Celeste kicked me, but I continue walking anyway. I've learned how to move around pain and how to carry it quietly.
I exhale when school comes into view.
Students are gathered near the entrance, laughing and talking loudly. Their voices blend together into a distant hum that makes my chest tighten.
I slip past them quickly, keeping my face turned away.
I don't want them to see my face, if they do they will ask questions and then things could get worse once of the teachers find out.
The hallway smells like disinfectant and cheap cologne. Lockers slam open and shut as students move around me.
No one pays much attention to the mute girl no one cares and I like it that way.
In class, I keep my hood up and my gaze glued to my notebook.
From my peripheral vision I can see Amber Collins glancing at me a few times, but she's too busy talking with her friends to care for long. A few whispers float my way, but nothing like before.
Maybe they think I'm sick or maybe they're bored but either way, I'm grateful.
The bell rings at the end of the day, and I gather my books quickly.
The café is only a few blocks away.
Work feels safer than home right now.
The bell above the café door jingles softly when I step inside. The warm scent of coffee beans and sugar greets me instantly, wrapping around me like a blanket.
The familiar sounds calm my racing thoughts.
The espresso machine hisses, cups
clink together and the soft music plays from the speakers above the counter.
I move quietly toward the back hallway where the staff restroom is located.
The café uniform is folded neatly in my bag. Black apron. Simple white shirt.
Inside the restroom, the fluorescent light buzzes faintly overhead.
I shut the door behind me and set my bag on the counter.
Slowly, I push my hood back.
My reflection stares back at me from the mirror.
The bruise around my eye has darkened overnight, deep purple spreading across the skin beneath it. My lip is swollen, the cut slightly scabbed.
For a moment, I just look at myself.
Not with anger, not with sadness but with quiet acceptance.
This is normal.
I reach for my apron and begin changing.
The door suddenly opens.
I jump slightly, quickly turning my head.
Mia steps inside.
"Oh—sorry," she says automatically before pausing.
Her eyes land on my face and she freezes.
"Oh my God."
Her voice drops to a whisper.
"Eva…"
I instinctively pull the hood of my sweatshirt back up, trying to hide the bruise again.
Too late.
Mia moves closer, her expression filled with concern.
"What happened to you?"
I shake my head quickly signing
It's nothing.
I try to finish tying my apron strings.
Mia gently grabs my wrist to stop me.
"Hey… look at me."
Reluctantly, I lift my gaze and sign it's nothing.
Her eyes soften immediately.
"That's not nothing," she says quietly. "Your eye is bruised and your lip is busted."
I look down again.
The familiar instinct to hide curls tightly in my chest.
Mia leans against the counter slightly, lowering her voice.
"Who did this to you?"
My fingers tighten around the edge of the sink.
I don't answer.
Not because I can't but because saying it even in silence makes it real.
Mia watches me carefully.
"Eva… you can tell me."
Her voice is gentle.
Patient.
Something warm stirs faintly in my chest.
I slowly raise my hands.
For a second, they hover uncertainly in the air.
Then I begin to sign.
My stepmother.
The words move silently through my fingers.
Mia's eyes widen.
"She did that to you?" she whispers.
I nod slightly.
Her expression shifts from concern to quiet anger.
"Jesus…"
She rubs her forehead in disbelief.
"Does this happen a lot?"
I hesitate.
Then nod again.
Mia exhales slowly, clearly trying to stay calm.
"This… this is not okay, Eva."
She studies my face again, her voice softer this time.
"You shouldn't have to live like this."
My hands lower slowly.
I don't know what to say to that.
Because the truth is I don't know any other way to live.
Mia gently touches my shoulder.
"If you ever need somewhere to go," she says quietly, "you can come to me. Okay?"
My throat tightens slightly.
No one has ever offered that before.
I give her a small nod.
It's the only answer I can give.
She reaches for her bag. "Let's fix that face I'm sure you don't want anyone staring at your face all the time and asking questions."
I nod.
Outside the restroom, someone calls Mia's name from the counter.
She sighs softly.
"We should get back to work and you look pretty."
Before she leaves, she glances at me one more time.
"And Eva?"
I look up.
"You're not alone here."
Then she steps out of the room.
The door closes behind her.
I stand there for a moment longer, staring at my reflection again.
The bruises are still there.
The pain is still there.
But somehow…
It feels a little less heavy than before.