Stuck On Mute

Chapter 17

Lmao, I'm going on an uploading spree! Wooo! I know right now the story is really sad and bleak, but there's always a silver lining. Maybe. ;D And since you guys wanted Leo's P.o.v. - Here you go(:  Much Love,

Comment, Vote, Fan, Smile, Believe <33

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 Leo's P.O.V.

  I tossed my bookbag into the corner, grimacing. The last few days had been horribly quiet and unappealing without Cora around. Even though she couldn't speak, she gave off this aura that would make everything funner, better.

I could nearly taste that aura when I kissed her and it was amazing, as girly as it sounds. I dropped onto my black-sheeted bed and hung my head. I peeked around my room, sighing. It was modest with it's white walls and small flat screen in the corner. Along the other side was a wide window with the curtains pulled back, letting me see into the night.

  Football practice had run late and now it was impossibly dark. I flopped backwards onto my bed, cursing myself again.

 Why did I kiss her?

Because you liiiiikkeee her. - A small voice taunted.

 Whatever. It doesn't matter now. Even after I apologized she was still mad. I said I didn't mean it - even though I did - to make her feel better, but she seemed even angrier after that.

I stared at the ceiling so many thoughts running around inside my head, filling every space.

   What if she did like it ....?

No.

Yes.

Maybe?

 "Ughh!" I groaned and rolled onto my side, still in my sweaty clothes. I needed to get Cora out of my head - I decided. I stripped my clothes and took a shower, taking extra long to feel the comforting hot water raining down on my skin. I clicked off the water and stepped out of the bathroom, going through my nightly ritual.

  When I finished putting on a pair of sweats and a white tee shirt, I headed to my room, intending to study. I got about a half-hour into it when I head a crash in the living room. I tossed my books aside, sprinting into the living room.

 My adoptive father was drunk, that was easy to tell. It's not like this was an often thing, but when it did happen, I was able to tell right away. My 'mom' was sitting on the floor, a broken lamp next to her.

 She looked startled, her gray hair was standing up at odd angles, green eyes frantic. I had faced John's drunken wrath before, and that was fine. But, when he touched her, it wasn't. I stood in front of her, not caring that John was a few inches taller. He glared down at me with  brown eyes, stepping closer.

  I took one step back, covering every possible place he could whip past me, leaving no escape. We stared at each other for a long moment, before I spoke.

 "Leave her be, John."

I knew it was a death wish from the moment the words left my mouth, but I couldn't help it. The woman who was basically my mother was being beaten up on. He let out a noise of pure anger and socked my right in the face. No warning. No yelling. Just a straight hit to the eye.

 It was painful, but nothing I couldn't handle.

  I dropped to a knee, cupping my eye. Without a sound, John slipped out the door, intending to drive in his drunken stupor. I didn't stop him. Mom stood up and walked over to me, only to kneel on the floor again.