Silent Hearts

"Ellie Hart lives a sheltered and simple life with her negligent father. The girl hasn't been in school since she was 5 years old, and her alcoholic father parades her around to his friends. After being thrown out on the streets one night, she meets a man who appears to have worth and value.
Harold Tomlinson, the wealthy and engaged dean of a prestigious secondary school, is more than willing to help Ellie. Ellie is pulled into a world of status, secrets, lies and family ties as she lives under the roof and care of the man she wants but feels she can never have. Will she get what she wants in the end or watch as he says “I do” to someone else?"

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1. Chapter One; Goodbye.

  I am looking at my bedroom walls which are all black, while my windows are covered by blinds. The light in my bedroom is broken; has been for some years now. The darkness of the room is blinding me.   And my body is still aching from my father's beating.  

I make my way downstairs slowly and quietly, to find Father and his new "friend" passed out of the sofa. His friend's body is spread across the whole sofa while father is lying between her legs with his head on her chest.    I look around the room.

The cream and lilac walls look clean while the floor and empty surfaces are covered in empty bottles, needles and cigarette butts.  The living room is also messy, because father is and never was one for cleaning.   I don't understand why Father feels the need to take drugs, but I wasn't going to ask him again. I learned that the hard way. The last time I did, he beat me.    Walking into the kitchen slowly, I open my mini fridge, hoping for food.   When I find out that it is empty, it means that I won't be eating today.   I walk back to my bedroom, whilst my stomach is making noises because I haven't eaten for two weeks now.   I just needed food and a nice shower, because I am also not allowed to take a shower unless he says I can.  

*FLASHBACK* 

I sneak into the bathroom; father's bathroom. There are clean towels on the rack. I start the shower quickly. Father has gone out for an hour so I don't have much time. I take off my clothes hurriedly, and I get into the shower where the warm flowing water hits my skin, making me jump.  

"Ellie, why are you not in the closet" Father's voice booms throughout the whole house. The closet is what he calls my bedroom, because it is the smallest room in the house but it is also meant to be a walk-in closet. My heart races as I quickly turn the shower off and hide in a cupboard, completely naked. 

  "I know you're in here, you little fucker!" he screams. Panic slowly strikes upon me as I took a deep breath, peeking through the crack of the cupboard door to see him stood right in front of me. 

"Found you!" He laughs, opening the cupboard door. I can smell the beer and whiskey on his breath.   My heart is pounding in my chest as he grips my hair, making me squeal slightly from the pain.  I know better than not to make a noise while he is in one of his moods, so why did I just squeal?  His fist meets my face as he screams at me. He doesn't stop; he just keeps going until I can't stand up any more.  

"Get out of my sight," he demands. I grab my clothes and run out of the bathroom and into my bedroom.  

Please don't follow me...please don't. 

*FLASHBACK OVER* 

My body jolts at the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs. My bedroom door opens to reveal my father, he looks angry. 

  "Jeremy told me that you didn't let him have you last night," Father growls. Jeremy is father's friend and drug dealer, father lets him take advantage of me instead of paying for drugs.

"You are supposed to give him whatever he wants you to give him, you ungrateful little bitch!" he screams.  I wince at his tone of voice. 

  "That was the final time you will ever defy me. I want you out of this house and my life now!" He grabs me by my hair and drags me down the stairs and to the front door which he opens and throws me by my hair out of the house.   "Never come back!" he exclaims and slams the door shut.   Walking away from the house, I force myself not to cry. I eventually find my way to the local park, where there are loads of empty benches.   I find a secluded bench and curl up into a little ball on the bench and find myself falling asleep.  

6 hours later 

  "Excuse me, miss" a strange male voice speaks; his warm hands are burning against my frozen skin. I open my eyes to find the man with concern clear in his eyes. He has short mousy blonde hair, and grey eyes.  He looks slender, but muscular.

"Are you here alone?" He asks. I nod slowly as he helps me sit up right.  

"Where do you live?" He asks another question, and I shrug my shoulders. I don't live anywhere. Not any more.    "Do you speak?"     I shake my head.  

  "Come with me, I'm going to get you some clean clothes, food and a shower," he tells me, but I shake my head.     I don't trust strangers. That is one lesson father taught me, is to never trust strangers, even though I never trusted the people I knew.

  "I promise I won't hurt you, please. I just want to help," he says, his voice slightly pleading. 

He takes off his jacket and puts it over my shoulders before offering me his hand and leading me to his car.     My heart feels like it is about to explode out of my chest. I am so nervous.  He leads me back to his car, it's a black BMW with slightly tinted windows.   Once he starts his fancy car, he turns the heating on.    

"Do you have a name?" He asks. I nod shyly.    

"Do you talk at all?" He enquires. I shake my head to say no.  "Okay, can you write it down?"   

I remember how to write. I was in school from the age of three to five. I nod with a small smile on my face.     He hasn't pulled out of the car park yet so he goes into the drawer in front of me and pulls out a piece of paper and a pen then hands them to me.     I write my name and hand him the paper.    

"Your name is Ellie?"     I nod shyly. He hands me the paper again. "How old are you?"     I write the answer and pass it back to him.     "You're only seventeen..." he says in shock. "Why are you homeless?"     I don't write anything because I don't know how to write that.     "Okay that's too hard of a question, my name is Harold," he tells me. I nod and he turns the radio on and starts to drive.     After a small amount of driving, Harold pulls into a huge driveway. His house is huge but so pretty. He leads me into the house and we are instantly greeted by a woman. She looks much older than Harold, but she is pretty and chubby.    "Oh, my! Who is this?" she asks, looking me up and down.     Harold speaks up. "Annie, this is Ellie, she is a seventeen year old girl who doesn't talk and looks like she hasn't eaten in weeks or showered."    My cheeks flame in embarrassment.    "Oh my dear, let me take her upstairs and give her a bath. I will make her some soup when she's been bathed," Annie tells him. He nods and walks away.     I can't help but notice that the way he spoke to Annie is different from the way he spoke to me in the park.  He spoke with more authority to his voice.   Annie leads me up the stairs, and takes me into a large bedroom. The bed looks so comfortable.     "Don't sit on anything or touch anything," Annie warns me and walks into where I guess the bathroom is. I look around the large bedroom.     It's half the size of my old house. Wow.     Annie comes back into the room and tells me to take my clothes off and put them into a bag.     "Oh my, you are very skinny!" she gasps with shock; concern in her voice.     She takes me into the bathroom and tells me to get into the bath while the water is being filled up.     Once she was done washing all the dirt from my skin and out of my hair, she makes a point of putting me in one of her nightgowns which goes all the way to my feet. She also gives me a pair of socks, which keep my feet warm.   Annie then puts me to bed, telling me she will bring me some food.     Why is this lady being so nice to me? She doesn't know me, Mr. Harold doesn't know me, none of them do.    So why are they helping me?    There is a knock at the door. I look up, expecting the old lady, but I find Mr. Harold stood at the door frame while holding something white and a pen.     "I found this whiteboard in my office and thought you could use it to talk to Annie," he tells me, handing me the board. "You write whatever you want," he shows me by writing his name Harold Tomlinson. I smile at the name.  Mr. Tomlinson.     "You can wipe it off so you can write again," he shows me— wiping off the pen with a rag.     I write two words on the board:  Thank you.  He gives me a small smile and leaves the room.     

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