The Mute's Silent Revenge

I had just moved into this old apartment complex when the middle-aged man downstairs called the cops on me. He claimed I was screaming songs at the top of my lungs in the middle of the night.

When the Tenant Association showed up at my door, he was red-faced and shaking with rage. He pointed his finger at my face and started cursing.

"You little brat! Every night at eleven sharp, you start howling! The whole building can't sleep because of you!"

"I've recorded everything! Your voice sounds like a dying pig! You're going to give me a heart attack!"

The hallway was packed with neighbors who had been woken up. Someone kicked my door hard and called me a low-class trash.

"Trash like her should be kicked out of the complex!"

"She looks decent, but she's just a loud-mouthed hoodlum from the clubs!"

Under their hateful glares, I slowly pulled out my phone. I typed two lines and held it up.

"How exactly is a person born mute supposed to sing?"

The neighbor who had been kicking my door froze instantly.

The man leading the charge, Jagger, kept his hand frozen in mid-air. He looked like he had seen a ghost.

Everyone shifted their gaze to my phone screen.

Mrs. Miller, the head of the Tenant Association, was a busybody who thought she had seen it all.

She blinked, then narrowed her eyes. She looked annoyed, as if she thought I was playing a prank on her.

"Listen, girl, don't try to be clever with us. Just admit it."

"It's not just Jagger. I live in the opposite building and even I could hear you!"

Jagger suddenly exploded into a sharper, more frantic scream.

"See? She's lying! She's just trying to dodge the blame!"

"I even have evidence!"

He turned his phone volume to the max and clicked on an audio file.

A sound like a ghost howling immediately filled the entire hallway.

"Listen! Everyone, listen! That's her singing!"

Jagger pointed at me, his finger nearly poking my eye.

"Every night at eleven! Right on time! My heart condition is acting up because of this!"

His shouting stirred the neighbors up again.

"Jagger is right! That sound is pure mental torture! My old man had a heart episode last night because of it!"

"She gets to have her fun, but what about the sick and elderly? If someone dies from the stress, can she take responsibility?"

"She's just a coward who won't admit her mistakes. Young people these days have zero accountability..."

One woman even aimed her phone camera directly at me.

"I'm recording this. I'm going to post your face online and let everyone see what a piece of work you are!"

I looked at the mob, feeling a wave of exhaustion.

Typing on a phone wasn't enough to explain this nightmare.

I took a deep breath and typed another line quickly, shoving it in Mrs. Miller's face.

"Give me twenty minutes. I'm calling my certified ASL interpreter. We can communicate properly then."

Mrs. Miller and the neighbors were stunned.

An interpreter?

They probably thought I was just stalling for time.

Mrs. Miller looked at me suspiciously but finally nodded.

"Fine! We'll give you twenty minutes!"

"I want to see what kind of tricks you're trying to pull!"

Twenty minutes later, a woman in a sharp professional suit pushed through the crowd.

"Hello everyone. I'm Linda, the contracted sign language interpreter for Sylvia."

Her voice wasn't loud, but it was firm and clear. It quieted the noisy hallway instantly.

"I will be accurately relaying everything Sylvia has to say."

Linda's presence brought a professional, undeniable weight to the scene.

Mrs. Miller and Jagger exchanged a look. They clearly didn't expect me to actually bring someone.

I began to use sign language to defend myself.

Linda translated my gestures into words.

"Sylvia says she has been non-verbal since birth. She has medical records from a top-tier hospital and is happy to cooperate with an official verification."

I pulled out a yellowed medical certificate.

When they saw the official seals and signatures from the state-certified hospital, the crowd went quiet.

I had kept that paper in my bag ever since my last check-up.

I never thought it would come in handy like this.

"Furthermore, in the recording Mr. Jagger played, the voice is raspy and processed. It clearly belongs to a middle-aged male. It does not match Sylvia's gender, age, or physical condition."

"Finally, she strongly doubts the authenticity of this recording. She reserves the right to seek professional forensic analysis and sue the person responsible for forgery."

Every word hit like a hammer.

The angry neighbors were now looking at each other, confused.

Jagger was the first to snap. He turned red with embarrassment and rage.

"Bull! She's just hired an actress! Forensic analysis? Who do you think you are!"

"That hospital note was probably just printed five minutes ago! You're willing to fake legal documents just to lie? Aren't you afraid of jail?"

Mrs. Miller's face darkened again.

"Sylvia! Don't think bringing a helper will let you flip the truth!"

She stepped forward, looking at me aggressively.

"You keep saying it's not you and you don't have the equipment. Fine!"

"Do you dare to open your door and let us see for ourselves? If you're innocent, we'll apologize in front of everyone. But if we find evidence... humph!"

The crowd erupted again at her words.

"Yeah! Open the door! Let us in!"

"If you won't open it, it means you're guilty!"

All their eyes were like sharp blades cutting into me.

They didn't want the truth. They just wanted an excuse to trample on my dignity.

My front door was pushed open, and the mob swarmed in.

The cozy home I had spent so much time decorating was instantly invaded by strangers.

Mrs. Miller acted like a general, waving her hand.

"Everyone, help me look! See if there are any microphones, speakers, or recording gear!"

Jagger led the way, charging straight into my bedroom, which also served as my studio.

The neighbors weren't polite. They tore through my closets and threw open my drawers.

Their faces were filled with excitement and disgust, as if they were on a holy mission.

I stood in the middle of the living room like a prisoner on display. I felt cold all over.

However, ten minutes passed, and they had turned the place upside down. They didn't find a single microphone, let alone professional sound cards or speakers.

The crowd started to murmur. Some looked bored or annoyed.

Just then, Jagger, who was still digging through my desk, let out a loud shout.

"I found it! Everyone, come look! Here's the evidence!"

Everyone rushed toward his voice.

My heart skipped a beat as I looked toward the studio.

Jagger was sitting at my computer, pointing at the screen.

Through the gap in the crowd, I saw it. He had quickly pulled a black USB drive from his pocket. While my computer was still on, he plugged it into the tower.

His movement was sneaky, but it didn't escape my eyes.

So that was his game.

My heart sank to the bottom of my chest.

"Listen to this!" Jagger turned my speakers to full volume and clicked a file.

"This is it! This is the sound we hear every night!"

That ghost-like howling filled the room again.

On the desktop, the icon for that audio file was glaringly obvious.

The neighbors exploded. Any doubt they had left vanished instantly.

"God! The evidence was right on the computer!"

"I knew it! Why would Jagger lie about something like this?"

"Turns out she didn't need equipment. She just recorded it on her PC! Young people these days..."

A wave of insults and disgust crashed over me once more.

Linda, standing next to me, turned pale. She tried to defend me.

"Please, everyone, stay calm! We don't know where this file came from. It could have been..."

But her voice was swallowed by the roar of the mob.

"You're in on it with her, aren't you! Stop lying!"

"We don't want scammers like you in our neighborhood!"

One older woman even shoved Linda hard.

"Get out! You have no say here!"

Linda was just a professional woman. She was no match for this angry mob. She was shoved and pushed out the door, looking completely frazzled.

Now, I was truly alone.

Mrs. Miller saw this and gave a smug smile. She walked up to me with a fake look of concern.

"Look, girl. Take my advice. The evidence is right here. There's no point in lying anymore."

"Everyone makes mistakes when they're young. If you're willing to change, we're willing to give you a chance."

She pulled a pre-printed paper and a pen from her pocket and put them on my coffee table.

"Here. Sign this confession. Promise you won't disturb the peace at night anymore."

"We'll just sign it and follow the procedure. Then this can all be over. It's better for everyone."

I actually laughed.

They had come prepared.

I slowly lifted my head and met Mrs. Miller's confident gaze. Then, I firmly signed the word "No" in the air.

I reached out and grabbed the pen and the paper.

Using every ounce of my strength, I tore that confession into tiny pieces.