Chapter 1: The Voice on the Tablet
The living room smelled like lemon cleaner and the long end of an afternoon.
Theo Marsh sat on the rug with his knees pulled up to his chin.
He was five years old, small enough that the oversized gray sweater he wore swallowed his hands, but old enough to understand when someone did not want to hear him.
His wooden giraffe, missing one ear from an accident nobody had bothered to fix, rested beneath his arm.
His tablet sat on his thighs.
He called it “my loud.””
Because when Theo pressed the pictures, people heard him.
The sun had slipped lower behind the houses outside, painting a thin orange line across the carpet. Dust floated through the light like tiny pieces of a world that was slowly disappearing.
The clock above the television ticked.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
The sound felt louder every minute.
Theo’s mouth was dry. His tongue felt too big inside his mouth.
On the coffee table, only three feet away, sat a tall glass of water.
It belonged to Vivian.
The glass was cold enough that tiny drops covered the outside. A pale ring of water had formed beneath it on the wooden coaster.
Theo stared at it.
Then he looked at his tablet.
His finger moved carefully across the screen.
A cup.
A thirsty face.
He pressed them.
The tablet spoke.
“I’m thirsty.””
The voice was bright and emotionless.
A voice that belonged to nobody.
Vivian did not look up from her phone.
She sat on the sofa with one leg crossed over the other, scrolling through pictures and messages with the same calm expression she wore when she watched cooking videos.
Theo waited.
He counted to ten in his head.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Nine.
Ten.
He pressed the buttons again.
“I’m thirsty.””
Vivian’s thumb stopped moving.
Slowly, she placed her phone face-down beside her.
That small action made Theo’s shoulders tighten.
He knew that movement.
It meant trouble.
“Theo,” Vivian said.
Her voice was soft.
Too soft.
He looked up.
His big brown eyes searched her face.
“Who are you talking to?””
Theo lifted the tablet slightly.
To you.
That was what he wanted to say.
Instead, the machine said nothing.
Vivian stood.
Her slippers made almost no sound against the floor.
She crossed the room and crouched in front of him.
Her perfume reached him before her face did.
Floral.
Expensive.
The kind of smell his father used to say belonged to “important people.””
Then Vivian reached for the tablet.
She did not grab it.
She simply took it.
That almost hurt more.
Theo’s fingers remained curled around the edge for a second after it was gone.
His hand stayed frozen in the air.
Like his body had not realized he had lost.
“Use your real voice,” Vivian whispered.
Theo blinked.
His lips parted.
He tried.
He really tried.
His throat tightened the way it always did when sounds got stuck halfway out.
“Wa…”
Nothing.
He swallowed.
Again.
“W…”
A tiny broken noise escaped.
Vivian tilted her head.
“Theo.””
Her expression changed.
Not angry.
Not yet.
Disappointed.
That was worse.
“Your father said you’re getting lazy.””
Theo looked down.
His fingers found the missing ear on his wooden giraffe and rubbed the rough spot where it used to be.
His father had not said that.
His father had said something different.
Three months earlier, when Theo had sat in a doctor’s office with cartoon animals on the walls, his father had held his hand.
The doctor had explained that Theo’s brain understood everything.
That he was smart.
That he had thoughts and feelings and words inside him.
They just did not always come out the way other people expected.
His father had squeezed his fingers.
“We’ll figure this out, buddy.””
Theo remembered those words.
Because they were the last ones that felt true.
Now his father was gone most of the time.
Work trips.
Late meetings.
Phone calls taken outside.
Promises that tomorrow would be different.
Vivian placed the tablet on the coffee table.
Out of reach.
“The tablet is not your voice,” she said.
Theo stared at it.
It was right there.
Close enough to touch.
But not close enough.
“The tablet helps me,” she continued.
Theo looked at her.
Vivian smiled slightly.
“No. It helps you avoid trying.””
The room became very quiet.
Theo did not know how to explain that he was trying every second.
Every minute.
Every day.
He tried when people looked at him.
He tried when they sighed.
He tried when they smiled sadly and said, “Take your time.””
He tried when children at school laughed because his words came out differently.
He tried until trying felt like carrying something too heavy for his small arms.
Vivian stood and picked up her phone.
“You know what happens when people depend on machines too much?””
Theo shook his head.
“They forget how to be normal.””
The word sat between them.
Normal.
Theo had heard it before.
At school.
At the playground.
In whispers.
He hated that word.
Because nobody ever explained what it meant.
Vivian walked back toward the sofa.
Theo reached for his tablet.
“Don’t.””
He froze.
“I said don’t.””
She didn’t raise her voice.
She didn’t need to.
Theo slowly pulled his hand back.
His eyes burned.
Vivian sat down and unlocked her phone.
For a few minutes, the only sound in the room was her tapping screen.
Then Theo’s stomach growled.
Quietly.
But not quietly enough.
Vivian looked up.
“You’re hungry too?””
Theo nodded.
She sighed.
A long, tired sigh.
As if feeding him was another difficult responsibility someone had unfairly placed on her.
“You had dinner.””
Theo shook his head.
He had not.
Not really.
He had pushed the food around his plate earlier while Vivian answered messages.
But explaining that was impossible.
His mouth opened.
Nothing came.
He reached toward the tablet again.
Vivian watched him.
“See?””
She pointed at him.
“That’s exactly what I mean.””
Theo stopped.
“The second you need something, you hide behind that thing.””
His eyes moved to the tablet.
Then back to her.
Vivian leaned forward.
“Your father needs to know this.””
Theo’s face changed.
Fear arrived before the tears.
No.
Not Dad.
Not because of this.
He reached for the tablet quickly.
Vivian picked it up first.
“Maybe he’ll finally understand that this little game has gone too far.””
Theo shook his head.
Hard.
His hair fell into his eyes.
“No.””
The sound surprised both of them.
It was barely a word.
Broken.
Rough.
But real.
Vivian stared.
For one second, Theo thought maybe she had heard him.
Maybe she was proud.
Maybe she understood.
Then her face hardened.
“There you go.””
She held the tablet tighter.
“You can talk when you want to.””
Theo’s heart dropped.
That was not true.
He knew it.
She knew it.
But she said it anyway.
He pushed himself up from the rug.
His legs were shaky.
He wanted the tablet.
He wanted water.
He wanted his dad.
Mostly, he wanted someone to believe him.
Vivian watched him walk toward the hallway.
“Where are you going?””
Theo did not answer.
Not because he refused.
Because he couldn’t.
He went to his bedroom and closed the door.
The room was dark except for the small night-light shaped like a moon beside his bed.
He climbed under the blanket without changing clothes.
His giraffe pressed against his chest.
For a long time, he listened.
The house had different sounds at night.
The refrigerator humming.
The pipes clicking.
The wind brushing against the window.
And downstairs, Vivian’s voice.
She was on the phone.
Theo normally ignored grown-up conversations.
Children were not supposed to listen.
But then he heard his own name.
He slowly climbed out of bed.
The hallway was dark.
He moved closer.
Vivian’s voice floated up from the living room.
“I’m telling you, Daniel, something is wrong.””
Theo froze.
His father.
“I know what the doctors said,” Vivian continued.
“But you weren’t here tonight.””
A pause.
Theo pressed his hand against the wall.
“I watched him sit there for almost an hour refusing to speak.””
Another pause.
Then Vivian laughed softly.
Not kindly.
“I’m starting to think he knows exactly what he’s doing.””
Theo stopped breathing.
His fingers tightened around his giraffe.
Then his father’s voice came through the phone, too quiet for Theo to hear clearly.
Vivian answered.
“No. You need to come home.””
Another pause.
Then she said the words that made Theo’s chest feel empty.
“Because I found something on his tablet.””
Theo looked toward the coffee table.
The tablet was still there.
Waiting.
Vivian lowered her voice.
“And if I’m right, your son has been lying to us.””
Theo’s eyes widened.
Lying?
He did not understand.
He had never lied.
He only wanted to be heard.
Then Vivian said one more sentence.
And this time, Theo heard every word.
“Theo has been recording us.””
Theo looked at the tablet.
The screen suddenly lit up.
May you like
Because somehow…
it had turned itself on.
