Silent Child
Page 29
Aiden rested his hands on his knees. He was learning things too, like how to interact with his surroundings. He didn’t stand around looking like a sore thumb like he used to. He relaxed into seats. He rested against tables. He drummed his fingers on the armrest of the car when the radio was on.
He nodded. “Thought I wouldn’t see it again.”
I couldn’t get used to the sound of his voice. He spoke in short, abrupt sentences. Sometimes it took him a while to get his words out. He would work his jaw as if feeling the words move around his mouth before he spoke. But I was proud of him for the way he was developing.
We sat there for a while, looking at the river Ouse snaking through the tiny village. It was morning, and the winter sun gave everything a sharp, bright look. The trees were so orange they hurt your eyes to look at. The sky was so blue it was more like the sea, and the air was so fresh it left your lungs with that rasping, raw feeling you get from exercising on a cold day.
The events of the last decade would rest heavy on my soul until the day I died, but I had a glimpse of the happiness that lay before me. A road to be travelled.
“Next time we have a picnic,” I said. “It’s going to be on the Great Wall of China.” I opened the basket and removed the sandwiches.
“Okay,” he replied.
I paused, and turned to look at my son. There was colour on his cheeks, and his eyes were bright. I reached towards him and gently brushed his cheek with my hand. Aiden slid down to the left so that he rested his head against my shoulder. It was awkward at first, but after a moment or two he settled in. For the first time in over a decade I breathed in the scent of my son. I placed my nose against the top of his head and I breathed in the notes that lay below shampoo and shower gel to smell his skin, like I had done the day he was born. As my nostrils filled with that slightly sickly, sweet scent of skin, my heart was finally full.
THE END
A note from the author:
I truly hope you enjoyed the book. If you would like to leave a review, please do. Even a few lines of your honest opinion is worth so much to me and to other readers who might want to read this book.
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Aiden’s story is never devoid of hope. He had a mother who loved him and who fought for him, risking everything she had.
There is a lot of light and a lot of hope out there, but if you are feeling as though you have lost that light, then please consider the following:
http://www.samaritans.org/
http://www.mind.org.uk/
Thank you for reading this story.
About the Author
Sarah A. Denzil is a British suspense writer from Derbyshire. In her alternative life—AKA YA author Sarah Dalton—she writes speculative fiction for teenagers, including The Blemished, Mary Hades and White Hart.
Sarah lives in Yorkshire with her partner, enjoying the scenic countryside and rather unpredictable weather.
Saving April, Sarah’s debut suspense thriller, is a psychological look into the minds of the people around us whom we rarely even consider—our neighbours. What do we really know about them, and what goes on when the doors are closed?
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