**Diary Entry**
I stood before the crooked little house, clutching a crumpled piece of paper with the address in my trembling hand. A chilly wind teased the back of my neck, tugging at my thin jacket, while the emptiness inside me mirrored the hollow, lifeless windows of this forgotten place. Twenty years in the care home, and now here I wasalone, with nothing but a small suitcase and a handful of pounds to my name. What came next? I had no idea.
The house looked abandoned since the last century. The roof sagged, the shutters hung by a thread, and the porch groaned dangerously under my feet. Tears pricked my eyes. Was this really all life had given me after two decades of being nobodys child?
Just then, the gate next door creaked open. An elderly woman in a floral dressing gown stepped onto the narrow path. She spotted me, paused, then marched over with purpose.
What are you doing standing out here in the cold, love? she asked, her voice warm with concern. Youll catch your death. Its October, and youre barely dressed!
I pulled out my notebook and scribbled: *They gave me this house. I grew up in care. I cant speak.*
The womans face softened as she read. Oh, you poor dear. Im Margaret Andrews. And you?
*Emily*, I wrote, the letters uneven.
Come inside, loveno sense freezing out here. Well have a cuppa, warm you up. Tomorrow, well take a proper look at the house. There are decent lads in the village wholl help patch it up.
Inside Margarets home, the air smelled of fresh scones and comfort. Yellow curtains, embroidered tablecloths, potted plants on the windowsillseverything radiated a warmth Id never known. A photo of a young man in a police uniform hung on the wall.
Thats my son, James, she said, following my gaze. A good lad, though hes hardly ever home. Now, love, how will you manage? Need work?
I nodded and wrote: *Yes, any work. I can clean, cook, care for people.*
Listen, Ive a friendEdith Whitmore. Shes quite elderly, needs a carer. Familys about, but theyre more trouble than help. Fancy meeting her? Ill give you the address.
The Whitmore house was large but neglectedpeeling paint, an overgrown garden, junk strewn about. A woman in her forties with tired, pinched features opened the door.
You the carer? she asked, eyeing me. Im Sarah, her granddaughter. Thats Thomas, my husband.
A man slouched in an armchair with a beer barely glanced up. The stench of alcohol clung to him.
Hard work, Sarah continued, lighting a cigarette. Grans bedriddenfeeding, washing, cleaning. Shes cranky, snaps sometimes. We pay £200 a month, foods whatevers about. Suit you?
I showed my notebook: *Yes. Im mute, but Ill work hard.*
Sarah exchanged a look with Thomas. Mute? Even better. No gossip, no complaints.
Inside, Edith lay in a dim room that smelled of medicine and decay. Frail, her eyes brimmed with loneliness. My chest ached.
Gran, this is Emily, Sarah said loudly. Shell look after you. Were off for the week. Sort yourselves out.
Edith studied me. A flicker of hope?
*Your name?* I wrote.
Edith Whitmore and yours?
*Emily. Ill take good care of you.*
For the first time, the ghost of a smile touched her lips.
A month later, Edith was transformedclean, fed, even laughing as I read to her. The house brightened toofresh curtains, scrubbed floors, warmth where thered been none.
But when Sarah and Thomas visited, their scowls darkened.
Whys she eating so much? Sarah sneered. Shell kick the bucket soon enough.
After they left, fresh bruises marred Ediths arms. She wept, refusing supper.
*What happened?*
Nothing, dear Just old age.
I knew better.
The next day, I slipped into an electronics shop. With gestures and notes, I explained I needed a hidden camera*to protect someone who cant protect herself.*
The shopkeeper, Daniel, studied me. This ones discreet, good quality. And He hesitated. Take it. Just be careful.
I hid the camera in Ediths room. When I watched the footage, my blood ran cold.
Thomas shook Edith violently. Wheres the money? Hand over your pension! We need a new car!
Ive nothing leftjust medicines, Edith wept.
Liar! Sarah shrieked. And youll sign the house over, or well dump you in a home!
Thomas struck her. She crumpled, sobbing.
I ran straight to Margarets. *Is James home?* I scribbled, breathless.
Margaret paled. Whats wrong, love?
I showed her the video. James, a sturdy man in his thirties, took one look and grabbed his coat.
This is assault, theft, coercion. We move now.
Chaos erupted when the police arrived. Sarah screamed it was a setupuntil James played the footage.
Evidence doesnt lie, he said, cuffing them.
Edith was hospitalizedbroken ribs, malnutrition, a lifetime of abuse.
You saved her, the doctor told me.
Alone in the big house, Margaret insisted I stay with her. Youre family now.
When Edith returned, frail but smiling, she clasped my hand.
Emily, you gave me my life back. How can I ever thank you?
*Just be well,* I wrote.
She shook her head. The house is yours. Ill see the solicitor. Youve earned it.
I tried to refuse, but Edith was firm. Stay. Care for menot as a job, but as family.
Life bloomed. Sarah and Thomas got probation, banned from contacting Edith.
Daniel, the shopkeeper, visited oftenturned out he was Margarets grandson.
Emily, he said one evening in the garden, have you tried speech therapy? Maybe its not hopeless.
*Im scared,* I admitted.
Well try together, he promised.
Months later, my first word*Thank you*left everyone in tears.
A year on, Daniel knelt in that same garden.
Marry me. I love youexactly as you are.
Yes, I whispered.
Our wedding was small but radiant. Edith, beaming; Margaret, proud; James toasting:
To kindness, justice, and those who refuse to look away!
I stood too. A year ago, I had no voice, no family. Now I have everything. Good winsif we fight for it.
That night, we sat by the fireDaniel, Edith, and I. The house hummed with warmth, the scent of apple pie, and something Id never dared name before: *home*.
I thought the care home was the end, I said softly.
Edith squeezed my hand. No, love. Just the beginning.
Daniel smiled. Our beginning.
And I knewId never stay silent again. Because silence helps the cruel. And I choose kindness, always.
