The Day Silence Spoke novel Chapter 245

Latisha's eyes slowly widened. What… was that? The name sounded vaguely familiar.

Dr. Harmon quickly added, "It's a form of dementia. But Ma'am, please don't be too anxious. You're so young, it's highly unlikely you would develop this disease. I suspect it's more likely related to some kind of brain damage."

He looked at her pointedly. "You've had a head injury before, haven't you?"

Latisha nodded. In the three days she was held by Santino, she'd lost count of how many times she had hit her head.

Dr. Harmon let out a sigh of relief. "Then that's probably it. In that case, there's no need to worry. A brain injury is far more treatable than Alzheimer's."

His words offered Latisha a small measure of comfort.

"However," Dr. Harmon added, "it would be best to get a proper diagnosis at the hospital."

Latisha pursed her lips. A sudden fear of the hospital gripped her. What if it really was… that? What would she do? She was already mute. She couldn't bear the thought of becoming an invalid as well.

Her fingers trembled as she typed: *What… what happens with that disease?*

"It's a complex neurodegenerative disease," Dr. Harmon said. "It doesn't directly affect a person's lifespan, but in the later stages, patients can forget how to eat, how to use the toilet, or even how to walk. The greatest challenge isn't the disease itself, but the resulting loss of ability to perform basic survival tasks."

As he spoke, Dr. Harmon grew more apprehensive. Although Latisha was young, cases in younger individuals were not unheard of.

Latisha bit her lip and stared down at her hands, lost in thought. After a long silence, she typed: *Dr. Harmon, no matter what the result is, can you promise not to tell anyone else?*

Dr. Harmon was taken aback. "You're still not going to tell Mr. Lambert?"

Latisha nodded emphatically.

"But why? He's your husband. How can you get treatment if you don't tell him?"

She wrung her hands before typing: *I don't want him to worry.*

After hanging up, Dr. Harmon quickly wrote out a prescription, took a photo, and sent it to Clifford.

Clifford forwarded the image to Ziven, instructing him to get the medicine. Whatever was happening, her physical health had to be managed first. If it really was that disease, her frail body might give out before she even reached the later stages.

That evening, Ziven brought the medicine, but Clifford did not return.

Latisha sat cross-legged on the sofa, a pen in her hand, chewing on the end of it as she tried to recall something, anything.

Ziven walked over and glanced at the notebook, which was completely blank. He couldn't help but chuckle. "Ma'am, what are you planning to write?"

Latisha looked up at him, then wrote on the page: *I'm trying to decide what to eat, so I'm writing it down.*

"Oh, I see," Ziven said. "Well, next time, you can just send me a message with what you'd like. There's no need to go to all this trouble."

Latisha forced a smile and gave a slight nod.