OH YEAH! When you gain momentum, you can't stop! YEAH!

Sorry about that. Here's chapter two. Immediately after the surgery, Miley wakes up and tries to find out what happens after. Well we shall see.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hannah Montana.

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"...Mile...wake up...Miley..."

A distant voice called me. Urging me to wake up. But I didn't want to wake up. I felt like I was in chains; my head was too heavy, and my body was completely paralysed. And anyway, I felt too warm and sleepy to wake up...

"...Miley...wake up..."

"Leave me alone..."

"Wakey wakey..."

"No...no..."

But slowly, I felt lighter and lighter, until I was sure I was quite awake. My tried to lift my eyelids.

It was a daunting task. I will discover what happened upon waking up, I will see daddy's face, and I was afraid that something bad happened. And in any case, opening my eyes took a lot of strength; they weighed at least a ton...

"Hey, she's stirring! Dad! Did you see that?"

"Wake up now...you can do it..."

Mustering all the strength I've got, I broke through the wall blocking me from consciousness, and slowly opened my eyes.

The first thing I saw was light. Glorious light, piercing light, welcoming light. Dare I open them up further? I experimented again.

"Dad! She's awake!"

"I know kiddo!"

I opened them up further. Now I saw a faint outline of a human head, with long hair and sideburns...

I opened them up totally.

"Welcome back Miley."

My dad and Jackson were sitting on either side of me. And I was lying on a soft and very warm bed. I took a long look around the room, still sleepy due to the anesthesia.

I was in a hospital ward, and I saw that it was silent and empty. All except me. Compared to the other hospital, this one was eerily quiet. Should have been here earlier.

Daddy was looking at me with a weird expression on his face. It was a mixture of sadness and joy. I guess he was relieved that I woke up at last. Jackson was looking at me in the same way too. Who died?

"Miley." Daddy whispered as he stroked my hair gently. Why did he sound so sad? So tired? Did he stay up all night watching me? Wait. That can't be right. I look outside the window. It was pitch black outside. Apparently I slept till night.

"If only you knew in a less brutal way..." he sighed. SIGHED? Wait a minute! I thought he was happy I woke up!

"Dad, let it rest. It's done anyway." Jackson's face was strangely pale. Or was it the trick of light? I saw tears glistening in his eyes. Since when would Jackson cry for me?

But then I saw that Dad was doing the same thing. What's going on?

Then I knew.

I tried to say something to them, but shock struck me dumb when I realised that no sound was coming out of my mouth. I was dumb in the first place. WHAT HAPPENED?!

Horror took control of me. I snapped a finger up to my throat and winced as it touched the sown-up wound. That spot was where they operated on. But nevertheless, I applied light pressure and hummed a tune.

It took a while for my numb brain to register the fact that I was NOT humming anything. I felt no vibration on my neck. My voice box stayed still.

My head was swirling now. Feeling slightly faint with shock and fear, I turned my head to Dad for answers. Frantically, I said, MOUTHED, "What happened?!"

Only air escaped from my mouth, and a whisper of what I said was heard.

Dad then dropped the bomb on me.

"While they were doing the operation, they found that your throat was infected. They had to amputate it. Your vocal chord was taken out."

My stomach turned to ice. I could only stare, horrified, at Dad. His voice was filled with regret and moroseness. Jackson also looked away from me.

I could no longer talk. I would have to spend the rest of my life in utter silence. It all sunk in. The merciless truth.

Momma's prediction was wrong. Something did go wrong. And because of that, I may never say anything again. Never will I make another wisecrack or a sarcastic comment as long as I lived.

How would my friends take it? How would my teachers take it? How will those people whom I meet everyday take it? Will they, contrary to what momma said, desert me? Will they tease me for my handicap? Will momma be wrong twice?

But then it got worse. What about Hannah? Hannah Montana? And millions of her fans? What will happen to them?

I answered that question myself. Hannah is no more. Hannah is dead. Never will she sing another song again. And never will she merrily yell "I love you all!" to her hordes of screaming fans again. Never again can she attend another celebrity party. Hannah's legacy will be lost into the sands of time, Fate having finally twisted her life around.

It's over. Hannah is gone.

What colour left on my face had drained away.

I gave a few quiet sobs and then went into a silent storm of tears, unable to make any bawling sounds; instead, only loud sobs and gasps that did not require a voice came through. I bit my fist as Daddy pulled me into a tearful embrace. Soon all over my hair his tears flowed. At this point Jackson left the room, unable to take the stress anymore.

We were locked in that embrace for what could have been an hour. I hardly noticed nor cared when the doctor walked through the door.

"Miss Stewart, Mister Stewart. I'm very sorry about your loss." he uttered sincerely, his head bowed, his gaze fixed firmly on Daddy's shoe.

Dad broke away from me. He wiped the tears away from his eyes and croaked in a parched and shaking voice, "No Doc. It's not your fault."

"Looks like Hannah Montana has become a legend of the past now, hasn't she?" Doc turned his gaze onto me now. Clearing up my sobs, I looked into his eyes and whispered helplessly, using only my tongue and lips to shape the air into the words I wanted to say.

"What do I do now? Is there hope that I would talk again?"

He bent right down until his ear was an inch away from my mouth and asked me to repeat. Leaning closer, I breathed into his ear, "Is there hope that I would ever talk again? Doc?"

He straightened up and stared down of me with a look of utmost pity in his eyes.

"No. Miley. I'm afraid you're, from now on, officially handicapped. There is no skirting round the facts this time. You can never talk again."

I thought about that one week; that week when I had to use a clipboard to express my views, the week when I couldn't get Oliver to shut up, the week when I had so many inconveniences. Now I would have to live like I did that week for the rest of my life.

As I got discharged the next day, Daddy driving Jackson and I back home, I could only think of one thing.

Hannah Montana is officially over.

So long, pop star life. And t'was here that the legend of Hannah Montana ended. A legend that no amount of tears can revive once it becomes history.

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Aw, so sad. But that's what happens when you sing too many encores. How will she take this handicap? Will her whole life be affected? Is there hope? This story is highly reminiscent to Little Mermaid, another Disney animated picture, where Ariel, the heroine, loses her voice to the evil sea witch. And in future chapters, you will see even more of this unintended but uncanny likeliness.

I will begin work on chapter 3 as soon as possible. In the mean time, will readers please tell me what do you think of this. Reviews are much appreciated.

I will not stop till this story meets its end!

Terrorking Tragedian