Bedtime

No one remembered when she’d stopped talking except her. It was easy to remember your 9th birthday. She’d got by silently since then with a series of mimes and a whiteboard she took everywhere with her.
She’d been prodded and poked by Doctors all over the country but they found no physical reason why. One had shouted ‘This needs to stop NOW’.
She didn’t eat much but had just started to feel a hunger. A waking need within. As her Dad sat on her bed to say goodnight she decided tomorrow would be the day that she actually told someone.