Whisper of The Silence

"Flight APG364 has just arrived in Atrexia, Melaindur."

The same announcement came through-repeated thrice.

Shivering in fear, she walked along the jet bridge with her shoulders hunched. Her eyes darted in indescribable panic as she looked at the men in black surrounding her. A helpless sigh escaped her cracked lips. Hands trembling, she fiddled with the black coat topped on her bruised, cuffed wrists. She flitted her gaze to the large glass windows, watching the flock of birds flying across the azure sky. Her sad, longing gaze was enough to say everything.

She was desperate to be freed, after months of being in darkness.

'I want to go home,' she thought, on the verge of breaking down in tears.

The remaining passengers of the same international flight brushed past them, leaving nothing behind but the echoes of their hurried footsteps. Though a few looked back at them, and a slight hint of suspicion certainly flashed across their faces, they did nothing more than frown. No approaches, no questions. And soon after, they continued walking ahead. Perhaps they were in a rush to go to the arrival hall to reclaim their baggage.

Well, they couldn't be fully blamed for that. After all, on the surface, she seemed just like a lady from a wealthy family, protected by several bodyguards.

But she wasn't. She was captured here, sold by her very own blood relations without her consent.

'I need to run!' Clover Hon screamed inside her head.

As soon as she stepped into the airport terminal gate, a wave of cooling sensation kissed her skin. Her eyes widened at the number of people waiting to board the plane that had just landed.

And an idea struck her mind.

She slowed down her pace in a not-so-obvious way. Maybe because they weren't fast to begin with, the men didn't notice anything. Parting her dry lips with hints of fresh blood peeking through, she clicked her tongue. When it wasn't loud enough, she clicked again, harder this time. She didn't care if the men heard her or if her tongue ached. This was her only chance; she needed to succeed.

No way she was going to continue being a sex slave.

A young girl with two ponytails tugged at her mother's hand and said, "Mommy! Look at her! Look at her!"

For one moment, she thought she saw a ray of hope.

"Chloe, don't," her mother muttered, giving Clover a sidelong glance. "Don't look at the weirdo."

'Damn it,' she cursed. 'It's not a joke.'

Nothing changed. Nobody understood her. Those men were still around her, heading in the targeted direction. She tried breaking free from the cuffs, but to no avail. Other than staining her blood deeper into the furry coat, it barely helped with anything.

"Walk faster, sexy. He's waiting for us." The scarred man beside her came up close. He grabbed her ass and squeezed it before whispering, "You'll be treated very well. No worries."

Clover turned around to give him a deadly stare. However, it was soon replaced with fright when a horny expression was registered on his face. His dark brown eyes turned hungry as he ran his finger down into her sensitive spot, scanning for pleasure.

"I wanna be the first." He licked her pinna.

As though somebody dumped a bucket of ice water over her, she shuddered all over and shoved him away. She tilted her head, low enough to erase the disgusting saliva with her upper sleeve.

It was all she could do.

Nowhere near escaping.

They continued walking. Passing by The Face Shop, Jaya Grocer, and Uniqlo, Clover fell into despair when none of the people walking in and out paid enough attention to notice the peculiarity in them, nor did they understand the body language she was trying to express. Slowly, tears began to mist over her eyes, blurring the path in front.

"Are you okay, little girl?" asked a hoarse voice the minute they walked past Starbucks.

Clover jolted, glancing around for the source. Left, right. Up, down. 'Where?'

"Over here!" A fair-looking gentleman waved his Americano in the air. He was taking two steps at a time, catching up with their pace. "Are you okay?" he repeated, pulling the sunglasses down the bridge of his nose.

He was trying to get closer when one of the black-clad men suddenly stretched out his arm and blocked the way.

Before Clover could speak, the man interrupted, "Sorry, but this is the lady of our house. Strangers aren't allowed to be close."

"Ah... Really?" The gentleman tiptoed every now and then, looking for a chance to meet her eyes.

'No!'

'No!'

'No!'

"Don't ask for trouble, my lady." The head of the gun at her waist was pressed deeper against her skin.

It wasn't an order. Rather, a threat. The guts to respond to the stranger vanished like they never existed. Words waiting to be blurted out stuck in her throat. Clover lowered her head, letting the strands of stray hair cover most of her face. She was ashamed.

The help was right in front of her. How could she not grab it?

The young man was still lingering with the gang, slurping the coffee in his hand. But when there weren't any responses from the so-called lady of the house, he stopped following them soon after.

"S-Sorry... I think it's my mistake," he uttered and left without looking back.

'Great job, Clover. There goes the opportunity to be freed.'

The men surrounding her began to speed up. Clover did nothing to stop or delay. She was devastated over the loss of her only chance to escape. Fate as a sex slave was starting to stick to her, forcing her to accept.

Suddenly, a wave of deafening noise floated to her ears and pulled her to her senses. She stood on her exposed toes, looking past the men in front.

Hundreds of people were crowding the terminal building. They had their phone cameras held up high, fighting for the best angle.

Having a hunch that something was about to happen, Clover flitted her eyes around, looking for clues she missed.

Right then, she caught sight of drop-down posters featuring a young-looking man everywhere, together with the name "Kyle Lee".

It suddenly dawned on her that someone famous was coming.

Someone by the name of Kyle.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Hearing the exhilarated screams, Clover looked behind her in an instant, and so did the black-clad men. As expected, a young man in sunglasses was walking out of the arrival hall, surrounded by a group of security guards. At the sight of that, the thrilled fans immediately rushed forward with their huge fandom boards. All they wanted was to touch their idol even if it was just a tiny bit. Hundreds of hands were stretched out to reach him, give him gifts, and request his autograph. There was no stop. The euphoria was suffocating the oxygen in the air.

"KYLEEEEEEEEEEEEE!! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!"

"Kyle, I'm your biggest fan!!"

"Kyle, you're so handsome! I love you!!"

"I love you! KYLEE!"

Looking at the number of fans who were there to welcome him, the celebrity finally made a pause and bowed. "Hello everyone. It's me, Kyle Lee."

As Clover and the men walked through the crowd, the pumped-up fans ran into them and broke the "invisible circle" Clover was trapped in. Clover took a quick step to the left at once and snuck into the exuberant horde. It was an instinctive reaction. She couldn't afford a slight pause. With her body bent low, she followed the crowd while peeking through the gaps, looking for the men who were hunting for her.

They were there, scattered. Their panicky eyes continued to dart everywhere.

She watched some of them taking the escalator to the higher floor. The little bulge protruding from their back pockets might not mean anything to passersby. But she clenched her quivering hands in fright, knowing exactly what it was. When the men were finally nowhere to be seen, Clover braved herself to take the first step out of the crowd. Only away from this place could she sense escape.

Just as she turned around to leave, she tripped over the stanchion that she had no idea was there. One was linked to the other, and it went on and on. The ear-splitting clank drifted across the air. She had the crowd's attention for a brief second. But it wasn't strong enough to overtake Kyle's presence.

But from the second floor, the men in black saw that scene and met her petrified gaze.

Clover immediately pushed through the sea of humans and ran to the parking lot as fast as she could. Every step behind her felt like a predator's. Panting, she crouched next to a huge black-tinted hybrid van. Her heart thumped against her skin so hard as if it were going to jump out of her chest. Beads of sweat streamed down her chin; shudders continued running down her spine. Staying close behind the vehicle, she prayed with all her might that they would not find her.

Not again.

"They're near." She gasped, feeling the sudden change of pressure crawling in the air.

Right then, she heard someone unlocking the black van she was hiding beside. Without thinking much and putting her safety as the top priority, she hopped in.

"I'll apologize later," she hissed under her breath, climbing from the backseat to the trunk soundlessly.

"We're running late. Only five minutes!"

Someone entered the van and tapped the touch screen to turn on the air conditioning. A strong flow of cool air rushed out, filling the vehicle with a relaxing scent of lavender.

He didn't notice Clover.

Resting his hand on the steering wheel, he tuned the channel to one with good reception. Latest news, list of '90s songs made into the top 10, and product advertisements⁠⁠-none made him stop his fleshy fingers until a soothing instrumental melody reached his ears.

GZ Golden Music FM.

One of the few channels Clover enjoyed listening to when she was a kid, and when she still had a happy family.

Similar feels; similar background music. But nothing else remained.

Nostalgia washed over her soul; tears seeped in from the corners of her pearl-black eyes. The tip of her nose turned pink as she reminisced about the good times she once had...

Running to her dad innocently, she screamed at the top of her lungs, "Daddy, look! It's a rose!"

"Wow, that's beautiful!" He scooped her up in a move and put her on his neck. "Where did you get it, honeypie?"

Sweet giggles filled the lovely atmosphere. "Magicccc!!" she said. "I cast a spell, and then... and then this flower popped out!"

"Really?"

Obviously, it was a lie. But he put on an act to play along with his one and only daughter.

"Then make me a house!" he said.

"Don't wanna." She stuck out her tongue.

He plucked her down and swung her with his muscular arms. "Don't wanna?! Then I'm gonna eat you up. ROARRRR!!"

She bared her baby teeth and sank them into his hand.

"Ouch! Clover! That's not fair!"

Clover chuckled and dashed for escape as she watched her dad miss his step, falling to the muddy soil.

All it took was the drops of her tears falling onto the PVC mat for the view in front of her to be transited back to the present, to the current dreadful situation. She thought growing up was fun and amazing.

However, it was just a thought that was never meant to come true.

Taking a deep, long breath, Clover brushed off the tears from her face. 'No time for this.'

The man was still in the van. The song was left playing on its own, and the front seat door was halfway open with his right-tattooed leg dangling in the air. While keeping an eye on him, she stretched her body, easing the cramps. She didn't want to be reflected in the rearview mirror.

"Oh, Goddd, Kyle. Can you be any slower?"

'Kyle?' she mused. 'Where did I hear the name again?'

With a loud thud, he jumped off the van and dashed toward the idol in the middle of the horde. Nobody was bothered to make way for him. Sucking in his slightly chubby belly, he went over and pulled Kyle away so fast that the gifts almost slipped to the ground.

The man furrowed his thick brows, his lips mumbling something that seemed to be nagging the idol for staying there for too long. But he was quick enough to force out a smile when he saw the fans were still following around.

All of a sudden, Clover snapped. The two figures were walking in her direction. She scanned the van. It did look like a property belonged to someone of higher status. But it had never occurred to her that the van would be a celebrity's.

"Can you do something right for once, Clover Hon?"

While she was scrambling to get the stained coat for a quick escape, her face twitched in pain as she accidentally hit the headliner. Her cuffed hands were hindering her movement. She didn't want to be arrested for breaking into other people's vehicles, nor did she want to be caught by the men in black. She was in a blue funk. The moment she reached out to push open the door, Kyle was already standing outside, waving goodbye to his fans. Clover slid to the other side.

The men were still there-where and when did they reappear?

Tension was spiking. Her eyes widened in shock, watching the target door slide open.

Before she could even realize it, she was back in the trunk.

"So tired..." Kyle said as he stepped in.

He took off his sunglasses and pulled down the black mask, resting his head against the headrest.

"You could've just gotten in without greeting them."

"I thought they didn't know that I'm coming back today. Someone must've spilled it out. Anyway, they've waited long hours just to see me, Brandon. It was natural to stop for a short greeting." He lifted the box beside him. "What's this?"

"Fan letters."

'I'm so dead,' she muttered inwardly.

Clover bit her lip and dug her fingernails into her palms, forcing herself to stay awake despite the stinging pain. Blood was leaking. The cuts around her wrists had gotten deeper, and a trace of metallic smell drifted along with the lavender scent. In fact, it was noticeable if one paid enough attention to it.

"Kyle, can you get my backpack in the trunk?"

'Trunk?!' She jerked.

"Sure." He extended his hand to the back. "Where?"

Clover hugged her knees close to her chest, trying her best to dodge his touch. She quickly grabbed her coat over before it attracted any attention.

Anything bloody was very easy to cause unnecessary heed. Holding onto the slightest hope, she thought she would not get busted and that she would be able to get out like a talented secret agent.

But everything came crashing down the next moment.

"It's at the left end."

'Left end?!'

Clover looked around nervously. She was on the left and also at the end. There weren't any bags near her! Kyle stretched his hand further to the back and rummaged through the air. She kept pushing herself backward even though she had reached the limit. He must have felt her rapid breaths on his palm, because that was when he turned around all of a sudden.

His eyes were filled with fright and impossibility.

"B... Brandon. Who's she?"

"Hmm?" he mumbled, steering to the left. "Who's... who?"

"Who are you? How... how did you get here?" Kyle tried to maintain his coolness, but his quavering voice sold him out.

He ran his hands along both sides of the doors, checking if the locks were switched or damaged.

"Just... how the heck did you get in here? Are you some kind of stalker? Or... my hardcore fan?"

"What are you talk-" Brandon wasn't sure what Kyle was talking about until her voice came through.

Clover got down on her knees. "Please don't call the police," she pleaded, tears streaming down her face.

That freaked Brandon out. "WHAT?!" He braked the van at once.

The entire vehicle jerked. Kyle lost his balance and fell onto Clover. Her stained coat was pushed away; her cuffs were revealed.

His legs were stuck in between hers, and his hand was behind her head, securing it from any great impact. None of them moved for the first few seconds, which only added more fuel to the flaming fire in Brandon.

"Get off her, KYLE!" Brandon screamed from the front. Too many drivers were honking at the back. He had to continue driving. "I'm gonna call the police," he said furiously, groping for his phone in the compartment beside the gear.

"No! Please... Kyle," Clover cried, pulling herself out of his wrap. "J-Just drop me off somewhere, and I... I'll get out of your sight! Promise!"

He stared at her skinny, bloody hands for a while before asking his next question, "What happened?"

To her surprise, the coldness in his voice was gone. This time, there was a slight warmth at the edge of his tone. And it was growing.

She heard him, but she was hesitant to speak.

"DON'T BOTHER. KYLE!" his manager shouted. "F***!"

"Come on. Tell me, or I might really need to hand you over to the police," he said, dusting off the van mat to sit in front of her.

With her lips trembling, she shook her head. That was all she did. No answers.

Kyle heaved a heavy sigh. He plucked the paper clip stuck in between the PVC yarns and twisted it a few times before reaching out to her cuffs.

"I've seen people doing this on TV. I'm sure it's not that difficult." He chuckled.

"What the hell are you trying to do, Kyle?" Brandon frowned. "You're gonna be so dead if the paparazzi see this."

"We're in a van," he snapped. "With tinted windows."

"S... Slave," she whispered.

"Sorry?" Kyle drew his face closer to her.

"I... I was captured here as a sex slave." Fixing her eyes on the storage bag tied to the driver's seat, she added, "I needed to run away, Kyle. That was why I sneaked in here without thinking. I didn't know whose van this was. All I wanted was to escape."

The van fell into silence. The clip slipped from his hold, but Kyle quickly caught it with his hand. Without asking for any further explanations, he continued dealing with the locks. Even the hot-tempered Brandon had zipped his mouth at this moment. Clover spared a glance at the rearview mirror to see his reaction.

He was frowning, revealing several deep wrinkles on his forehead. Indeed, as the manager of a rising superstar, he shouldn't let his guard down by simply believing any stories without valid proof.

After all, if it was nothing related to them, they shouldn't be asking for any trouble.

"I'm sorry."

Clover heard her cuffs click. Kyle was carefully removing them away from her, so as not to add any pressure to her wounds.

"I'm... sorry," he repeated.

"Don't be," she said pathetically, staring at the bruises and fresh cuts on her wrists. "What are you sorry for?"

"For-"

"If you really feel sorry for me..." she interrupted. "Please, Kyle. Don't send me to the police. They won't help me. The fact that I didn't go through any immigration checking is the perfect example to explain this. They're corrupted."

She dropped her gaze, twiddling the baby strips at the sides of her torn black pants. But when Kyle said nothing to assure her safety, the effort she put in to hold back her tears came crumbling down, pushing through the wall she built.

"I'm not lying." She choked on her voice.

"I never said you're lying."

"As much as I don't like it, trouble has already started," Brandon muttered.

He floored the accelerator pedal and took a steep right turn at the T-junction. Veins in his arms bulged as he moved his eyes from the rearview mirror to the wing mirror every three seconds. Another sharp turn. The van screeched and collided with the concrete road barrier. He showed no decrease in speed despite driving down the narrow, isolated route.

Kyle grasped the grab handle to stop himself from hitting every corner.

"What's wrong?"

Brandon sped up again. "I think we're being tracked."

"Tracked?" Clover blurted, turning her head to the back.

"Yea. Thanks to you I supposed." Brandon tried to sound annoyed, but his energy to do so was all shifted to his driving.

She glued her sight on those cars, and when their faces hove into view, her legs turned to jelly unconsciously.

"How... is this even possible?" She collapsed to the floorboard.

Fright overtook her. Her cheek muscles wobbled as her startled eyes flooded with tears.

"Damn!" Brandon cursed, banging the steering wheel for the tenth time. "Stop following me, idiots."

He gripped the steering tighter, turning it wherever he could. He took a quick peek at the side mirrors. Those cars kept reemerging after each sharp turn, leaving him no choice but to keep speeding.

"How did they know you're in here?" Kyle questioned.

Clover opened her mouth, trying to claim her innocence. However, none of her words found their way out. They were stuck in her throat. Backing away from his demanding gaze, she pursed her lips and buried her face in the coat that was filled with the metallic smell of her blood.

Kyle moved closer. "H-Hey... Sorry. I'm simply asking this out of curiosity. Don't worry. We'll keep you safe." He glanced at his manager for assurance. "Right, Brandon?"

"Shut up, Kyle," he grumbled, still focusing on getting rid of the tailgaters. "I don't even know why I'm doing this. You better come up with a good excuse for not turning up at the show later."

"You just need to worry about how to shake them off."

Kyle took out his phone from his back pocket and dialed a number. A picture of a youthful man whose face was smudged with makeup appeared on the screen the moment Kyle pressed the green button. "Little D" was the name displayed. He turned on the speaker, waiting for the line to be connected.

"What's up?" A husky voice came through after the fourth beep.

"Danise, do me a favor," Kyle said.

"Yea?"

"Replace me for 'You're My Perfect Star' TV show today."

"Huh? Are you kidding me?"

"Why not?"

"This is so not a joke, Kyle."

"Because it isn't; that's why I need you."

"But why?!"

"Just do it, dude. Bye."

Thirty seconds. Short and nice.

Kyle rubbed his phone against his ripped baggy jeans, clearing the sweat marks. "See? This is what you call a friend in need is a friend indeed."

"Yea, yea. Whatever." Brandon pulled a face.

Clover avoided the layers of concern pouring from his stare and looked outside the tinted window. Kyle's face was featured on almost every billboard that she came across. Be it the tourism ambassador or fashion brands, he was everywhere.

"Pathetic" was perhaps the best word to describe her current situation. Still sitting on her knees, she frowned slightly. The stinging sensation was biting deep into her torn skin. But she dared not show. She didn't want to cause any more trouble for this famous celebrity next to her.

Suddenly, he turned around and grabbed her hand.

"I think I know why they knew you were here," he said, pointing to a flashing red spot planted deep inside her furry coat.

"A t-tracking device?!" Brandon's eyes widened. "Quick, chuck it out now!"

Kyle rolled the coat into a thick ball and yanked it out of the window. A strong throw. It smashed onto the slanted electric pole nearby the abandoned building before the wind slammed it in the direction of the cars behind. Too abrupt. The tailgaters braked at once but were still a second too slow. They collided with one another and knocked over the barricades.

Brandon smirked, driving away at full speed. "A bunch of greenhorns."

"Finally..." Clover dropped her tensed shoulders as she lost sight of those men in black. "They're away."

"See?" Kyle revealed his perfect dimples that she wasn't aware of before this. "I told you we would keep you safe."

"Thanks, Kyle." She smiled back at him. "I mean it."

Now that everything was settled, she finally had the time to take a clear look at his face-big round eyes, a distinct jawline, thin pinkish lips, high cheekbones, and a pointed nose.

Simply modellic. He was literally born for the stage.

Clover was stunned.

"So..." Brandon's voice slapped hard on her face. "Where are we going?"

He pulled over to the side of the road and lifted the handbrake. She knew his question was referring to her. Who else could it be if it wasn't her? She was the only outsider at the moment.

"Just... drop me off anywhere."

"Anywhere?" Kyle arched his brow.

"Yes. Anywhere." She tried to sound confident. "Finding a way out shouldn't be that difficult."

"What do you mean by that?" His tone was filled with overwhelming care that she hated herself for yearning for.

'No, Clover. Don't waver. It's time to be on your own.'

She glanced at the unfamiliar surroundings, having no idea which part of the earth she had landed on. But other than leaving, she didn't seem to have any better choices. "I think I'll just get down here."

"Hey! Wait!" Kyle stepped down and grabbed her arm. He loosened a little for fear that he would apply pressure to her wounds. "Where are you going from here?"

"I'm sure it'll lead me somewhere," she said.

"Ever since I was a kid, I was taught not to leave any girls in danger." His gaze was firm.

"You saved me, Kyle. And that's more than I can ask for. I appreciate your kindness."

"You'll probably do the same if you're in my shoes."

"Maybe?" She chuckled, trying to withdraw her hand from him. "Okay. You better get going before anyone sees us together."

"Good one, girl. You're incredibly right," Brandon said. "Come on, Kyle."

The sun was high up in the sky, radiating its heat everywhere, and there they were in the middle of a deserted road. Kyle was reluctant to let her go. She felt it. None of them said anything more, and things were starting to look weird. The harder she tried to break free from his hold, the more he tightened his grip. She saw his muscles tensing, not knowing what to do.

Clover could've continued acting like she was all right if the smarting around her wrists hadn't started to take over her consciousness. Soon, her vision was blurring.

"Kyle... Go." She faltered, praying hard he wouldn't realize her current condition. "Don't worry about me."

"You don't look right." Frowning, he pulled her closer to him.

She pushed him away with her remaining energy. "Go..."

"KYLE LEE! GET BACK IN! For goodness' sake." His manager stamped his foot on the brake pedal.

"Don't..." Before she could finish speaking, she fell straight into his embrace. Safe and sound.

"I knew it." Clutching her by her waist, he brought her back into the van.

"Kyle Lee," Brandon hissed behind his gritted teeth. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Saving a life."

"And damaging yours?"

No response.

Staring at the unconscious girl in his hands, Kyle stroked her long fringe and tucked it behind her ears. He didn't know if it was right or wrong. All he knew was that he couldn't just leave her alone.