Little did she knew that she was the most searched girl in her city.

Her voice was a dead giveaway despite her change in looks.

Her voice could get her killed.

So she got muted.


4. | New |


Nevada awoke with a harsh tug on the arm. She saw Anderson staring down at her.


"Nevada, get up. We are here."


She was no longer on a plane, but on a squeaking car that smelled like cigarettes. The man was in the passengers seat whispering to the chauffeur. He was no longer in all black but in a light blue button up shirt and dark blue jeans. He seemed more relaxed which in a way also relaxed Nevada. Next to her was Anderson who was patiently waiting for an order from the man.


The car slowed down as it approached a shack. Her stomach began to feel funny again, her nervousness grew once more. The place was desolated and that's what scared her.


Where are we? She asked herself. She nudged Anderson and shrugged her shoulders as to ask what this place was.


Anderson's mouth stayed shut, glaring ahead to where the man was. The man was talking on the phone and she wondered how he even had reception.


What is this place? Nevada wondered to herself, but the man seemed to read her mind.


"This," The man said as he got off the phone, "is your home."


She knew better than to complain. Others didn't even have a roof to live under, she was lucky enough she had somewhere to sleep. She kept her lips screwed shut throughout the whole "tour."


The shack had a living room/bedroom. Old couches were on the sides facing a small wooden table. On the far left was a bunk bed.


Bunk bed? I don't need one. She told herself. She waited till the end to tell the man; that he shouldn't have bothered to get her a bunk bed.


"Nevada, what is wrong with you?" Anderson spoke, in a way exasperated.


I'm asking him why there is a bunk bed.


"Speak up." Anderson snarled.


I am! Can't you he - ?


She stopped. She tried to say something but no noise came out. She couldn't hear her voice. Has she gotten deaf? No, if she heard Anderson there was no possibility of her being deaf.


The man snorted, "Don't stress yourself, kid. You'll get your voice back. Sore throats leave eventually... meanwhile, here take this." He gave her two college notebooks and a pack of pencils.


Puzzled, she took them and flipped through the empty line papers, waiting to be written on.


"It's for you to write what you want to say. Since you can't seem to talk, just write down what you want to say. I'll buy some more later."


But why did he give me 2 huge notebooks? And why did he say he'll buy more? Sore throats can't last that long, can't they? She was confused, she wanted to know why she was going to need a bunch of notebooks. She wanted to know how long the "sore throat" was to last. As far as her memory goes which is almost nothing, sore throats don't last a month, not even a week! Then again Nevada was no doctor so she didn't know.


At that moment, Nevada decided to put the notebook to good use. She took out a pencil and began to form a sentence. Once she finished she shoved into the mans face.


Why do I need a bunk bed?


"Right. Anderson will be staying with you."


"What?" Anderson practically screeched, enough to be a voice for Nevada's exact thought.


Anderson quickly cleared his throat and straighten up, "I'll go get my stuff."


It was her and the man again. She didn't like him. Not a single bit. He gave a one-wrong-move-or-word-and I'll kill you vibe. The sun kept aiming it's sunlight to her forehead, small beads of sweat forming at the edge of her hairline. She tried to think of anything but the situation she was in.


Anderson soon joined them once again with his bag and placed it on the bottom bed, "I'll sleep here." He stated in a monotone voice.


She nodded; but she realized she didn't have anything. She didn't have any clothes. No shoes. No nothing. Just herself and the hideous rags she had as an outfit.


What about my stuff? I don't have any clothes. She wrote to the man.


The man gave her a sympathetic smile, "Anderson will drive you to the mall tomorrow. Knock yourself out." Saying that, he nodded firmly to Anderson and left.


Nevada wrote in the back of the page she had and handed it to Anderson with pleading eyes.


Could we go on a walk?


She wanted to forget her situation, just a minute would be enough. She needed fresh air, she needed to clear her mind, she needed to do many things but she felt restricted.


"C'mon." Anderson muttered trying to sound irritated, but there was no hiding the small curve at the edge of his lip.


Nevada smiled and squealed like a toddler who was granted a lollipop.


She wanted to forget now but remember what she had forgotten.


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