"Why can't you speak?" These were the most foolish people Chane often thought; they seemed to expect an answer. Most times she wouldn't give them one. But, when she felt she needed to explain her lack of speech she would write on s scrap of paper. 'I gave it up for my father' in flowing cursive. This seemed to further confuse them; many dropped the matter after reading the note thinking her both dumb and mute. But, there were always those persistent few who demanded more answers.
"What do mean?" they would ask curiously. And Chane would always write, 'My father is everything, my voice is nothing'. They would leave then thinking her a fool.
But Chane was not a fool. They were the simple minded creatures, for they couldn't understand her love for Huey. They could not understand her loyalty to this crazed man who had silenced his daughter.
She had always known she was just one of her father's experiments. She didn't mind; in fact she felt honored. And she also knew her father wasn't trying to attain all knowledge for the sake of science. She knew he had other motives, and she didn't care about that either. She loved him unconditionally, it was that simple. She had offered him her voice, he hadn't taken it. And sometimes she would think of that day, that day when she had last spoke.
The sun shone brightly outside, but it was cold and the wind was bitter. Chane lay on a metal operating table, waiting for the gas her father gave her to take effect and drown her in a fog while he preformed the procedure. Huey had carefully explained the operation to her so she would not be alarmed. He would make a small incision on her throat and then sever her larynx before stitching up the skin. A thirty minute procedure that wouldn't leave a scar, nothing to fear he reassured her. Chane did not need reassuring because she was not afraid, she trusted her father whole heartedly. If he asked her for her sight and hearing as well she would gladly hand it over and she wouldn't think twice about giving up her own life.
Chane started to see spots in her vision and instinctively tried to blink them away. Then she turned to look at Huey who was putting on gloves and preparing the scalpel.
"I love you, father," she whispered knowing them to be her last words. He stood and walked to the table a small smile on his features.
"You really are a good daughter," he said stroking her hair and then bending down and kissing her forehead. It was not the sentence she wanted to hear, as her consciousness faded away. Her father never said he loved her and he never would, but it was enough.
