Speechless (Muke)

DAY 6:

Words For Mikey: Day 6

Lugubrious: (adj.) mournful, dismal, or gloomy, especially in an affected, exaggerated or unrelieved manner

I think that's a pretty accurate word don't you? It's rather fitting to the situation at hand. Your brain activity is extremely high which I'm taking as a good sign. Every time the doctor comes I'm noticing that he's talking to my mum alone afterwards and I'm scared Mikey. What if he's lying to us about something or not telling us the whole truth? Not that I'm knocking my mum or saying that he might not just like her, but I'm paranoid I guess. It's been 6 days already. Every single day I'm going more insane without you than the last. Please hurry and wake up before I succumb to the pain.

I love you,

Luke

But along with the secrets and the good memories came all the bad ones. All the reasons Michael chose this for himself. And as panic and error registered in his mind his comatose body next to Luke finally showed signs of something.

His heart rate went flying and though Luke was not aware his brain activity was suddenly too high for that charts to properly map it. He was shaking trembling furiously and Luke was momentarily frozen.

And then he screamed.

Somehow Michael heard this. He heard the desperate agonizing scream and he knew it was Luke. He didn't know how, but it just clicked, pieces of the puzzle fitting together. In his head Michael was trapped.

Michael was nine. The firm, sharp bricks of the building behind the school were digging painfully into his back. His shoulder blades pressed against it and his too thin jacket doing nothing to ease the cold or provide some padding for him. He wasn't there by choice obviously. His toes were just brushing the ground and his hands were clasped around the ones gripping his shirt collar.

Michael knew that the older kids didn't like him. He didn't know what he did to them to make them angry at him, but they were. He knew that he was the only kid they hurt and called names and that made him think that they must have had a good reason. It made him think he deserved what they did and that the words they spoke were truer than he could have ever imagined.

He was pulled forward and then roughly slammed against the wall again. He wasn't sure how he even managed to get himself in this position, usually on days where his dad beat him before school he managed to avoid the other kids. Not today apparently.

"You're a freak!" laughed one of the boys as the one holding him slammed him against the wall again.

Michael involuntarily let out a whimper and the boys all laughed as a tear rolled down his cheeks.

"Are you crying?" taunted the boy holding him. "Is the little baby crying?"

"To bad your mummy can't hear you," piped in another.

The words washed over Michael and left him in even more pain than the brick wall against his back did if that was even possible.

He wanted to tell them to stop. He was willing to beg for them to stop. But as always, Michael stayed silent and let them call him names and hit him. He couldn't see a difference between them and his dad. And the worst part is that all the other kids just walked right past.

Michael was ten. That day on his way home an older boy had approached him and Michael's eyes locked on the cuts on his exposed wrists.

"You okay?"

"What are those?"

The older boy smiled slightly.

"Cuts,"