|Blank Tones||mgc| -au-DISCONTINUED

|1|

A u t u m n:

I woke up to the static sound of my alarm clock. I struggled to motivate myself and be a productive person. It was hard and I wish I had just gone to school when I had the opportunity. Despite everything, everyone told me. Everyone told me that I deserved a break and that I didn't have to go to school because of everything that happened with my parents. I was fine then and I never shredded a single tear. I'm fine now.

I think.

The only way that I figured that I would get up is if I forced myself up, so I roll off my bed and my head slammed on the carpet of my room. I stared at my ceiling, caught in my own thoughts.

This is it.

I really had to go to school over the Summer.

I really have to.

I missed a whole term of school and now I was paying for it.

I was rolled into a burrito of a blanket and unraveled myself. I stood up and studied my room. It was a mess. I have papers scattered everywhere of my stupid sketches. I noticed my fan was on, probably explaining the horror that was my bedroom. I walk over to the mirror and scan myself. I was so warm and for once I think I comfortable with the thought that I didn't have to go to school anymore but I did. I really did. I was that asshole that actually liked going to school and despised the Summer. The one Summer where I actually don't want to go to school, I have to go to school. 

I exited my peaceful room into the bathroom where I continued my routine. I splash water on my face and take a quick shower. I could hear my brother in the kitchen, attempting to make things as normal as possible. I guess he thinks that if I hear him cooking downstairs that it's all okay and I really wasn't alone.

I ran into my room in just a towel and changed into a white long sleeved t-shirt with some black skinny jeans. I threw my hair into some half-up, half down crap I always did. I jog downstairs and sit on the island of our kitchen. My brother was cooking something that smelled good. Alec always cooked in my family, not my mother or my father. He was so mature and it was times like this when I realize that I forget that we were twins. He acted so much older than me, even though I was the older one. I didn't think that it was fair that he got to make up his school work online and I had to go to an actual public school.

"Good Morning," he grins.

I nod.

"I thought it would be a good idea for you to see your therapist again," he continues. I shoot a strong glare at him. "Hey, don't give me that look Autumn. It's been a lot of time and I don't know how you are and even if I ask you won't exactly 'tell' me." I rolled my eyes. "Look, not only does it worry me that you don't speak, but I've spent every waking minute with you since it happened and you haven't cried or expressed any emotion. Maybe you'll tell someone else how you feel."

I wondered what he was expecting from me. I stopped doing therapy in the first place because it was a waste of money for me just to nod and/or shake my head at my therapist, while she asked yes or no questions. I wasn't like I didn't like her. She was really nice and she never pressured me into talking.

I just thought she would be really pissed off if she knew that I still suffered from mutism almost ten years later. I don't speak. I mean if I stub my toe or hurt myself I'll swear under my breath or if I was really mad I'd yell. I had a lot of control over my emotions and I never felt the need to vocalize them. I haven't really spoken in a while and I've honestly forgotten how my voice sounds. I just didn't think it was necessary to speak, after a while.  I spoke a lot until I was six or seven, then it just stopped. I was never bullied or had a tough childhood; I just stopped completely. It took a lot of people by surprise. Not speaking makes me notice things more, but it's gave me a lot of anxiety.