1. On Deaf Ears
This is not the story anyone expected. It’s not a story she wanted to remember or be remembered by. It was simply a story that had happened. Miller was always the example of a perfect mind used for unpleasant means. She wasn’t always this way – but I guess that goes without saying.
You don’t know what it’s like:
To be a sight unseen. To be a voice unheard. To be a raw talent uncredited.
Back then, Miller didn’t all that much mind. She was contented, happy to be the shadow on a wall. Or, at least, she thought she was. To accept a fate is much easier than to confront it, after all: to be led into a blissful ignorance with your eyes and ears shut to the rest of the world – like a fat sow to a slaughter house – shielded from the fear that those she trusted built around her. The infinite number of unknown opportunities, after all, were frightening – and who was she to say otherwise? What did she know? All she knew of the world were passive pieces of information gathered through what little exposure she had.
She was a child, they said. Forced into innocence by shelter and inexperience. What would she do? Where would she go? Should she be released into the world hidden from her, she’d be led astray. Led astray from what she was meant to be. Groomed to be. Born to be. Miller knew what she was. She knew what she was to them. It was a realisation that many of those in the same predicament didn’t pay heed to. After all, this was all they knew and how do you confront all you know?
She didn’t want it. She never wanted it. Miller looked into the face of a man she detested and, for the first time in her life, they heard her say, “No.“