The Sound of Silence

4-The Cause and Effect

Have I ever told you why I don't speak?

You may be wondering, was there an accident? Was she born this way?

No, and no.

There isn't a physical thing keeping me back from screaming at the top of my lungs, or shouting every persons name from school without a problem.

It's all in my head, my own mind keeping me from uttering a sound. I was in seventh grade, just started in fact, and everything in my life was going smoothly.

I was content, one might even say happy. That is until September 25th.

The power had gone out at our school, a rotted tree had fallen onto a power line. It cut the electricity from hundreds of buildings in the area. Not wanting to disturb my parents who were at work I decided to just walk home, instead of making them come and get me. Excited that I had the whole rest of the day to myself I practically ran home, bursting through the doors I just about jumped onto the couch.

That is until I saw my father laying on top of a woman, a woman who was not my mother.

Horrified I had locked myself in the bathroom, terrified of what to do. Tell my mother? Or do I keep quiet. A few hours later my father started to slam on the door with his fists, threatening me to open it or I would suffer the consequences. After a while I unlatched the lock and timidly opened the wooden door, eerily it creaked as it swung open. 

There stood my father, and within seconds he was on top of me, cursing at me to keep quiet or he would make my life a living hell. I obliged.

For three months that is.

My mother was happy, she had gotten a promotion at her job and made a very good group of friends. In a year she was to be promoted again and move to Germany for her job. She even told me that she had befriended a very flirtatious man at work who was okay in the looks department.

I thought it was as good a time as any to tell her what father had done. I remember it so clearly. How silence practically choked the happy atmosphere out of the room, and an odd sound filled the air. 

Utterly and complete silence.

She calmly told me to go upstairs to my room, said she loved me, and to not come out until tomorrow evening.

It was wretched. The things I heard. The screaming and crashing. The sobs and cries. And as the sun came over the horizon a thundering slam told me that my mother was gone. And she had left me.

I came out that evening, like she had told me. And as I quietly stalked down the stairs my father waited at the bottom. I had pleaded for him to forgive me as he beat me with his fists. I sobbed and cried for my father to stop it. I screamed at the top of my lungs that I loved him, and all he did was laugh.

He didn't listen, and his words ringed in my ear over and over to this day.

"If you hadn't have talked I wouldn't have to do this Pumkin. If you hadn't have talked everything would be okay."

And I took those words to heart.

Since that day I haven't uttered a single word.

____________________

A large pocket of blood pools in my mouth as my gums bleed without any sign of stopping. Crawling to the kitchen sink I muster the hot liquid and spit. Even in the dim light I can see the crimson blood slowly inch its way towards the drain, like a raindrop slipping its way off of a leaf. Turning the water on I quickly wash it away. However as a spot of blood trickles down my throat I can't help when I suddenly start to violently cough, my lungs convulsing faster than a jet.

All is silent when I calm down except for my own heavy breath. One tear, then two stream down my cheeks and slip off of my chin. Slipping down the kitchen counters I lay on the ground, the cold wooden floor exuding the frigid temperature into my bones. Soon enough I am weeping, my throat dry as sand but my cheeks damp with tears. The floor is wet, and a pool gathers underneath me. I can't catch my breath. I want this to end.

Shakily getting to my feet I slowly stagger up the stairs and to the bathroom, the dark brown walls seem to be closing in as shadows dance across the paint. With every step the cries of the old house fill the atmosphere with a sorrowful tune. Closing the door behind me and throwing the bolt I slowly venture to my bathroom. Ripping the vent cover loose my old blade lies, waiting for use. Clenching my jaw I pick my dangerous salvation up and walk to the sink.

Rolling my sleeve up I can see the small imprint I have already made, the light pink tissue gleaming in the moonlight. Now I am crying to the point I am blind. The world in front of me blurred and unfamiliar. 

Ding

Shooting a glance to my bed side my phone illuminates the contents on top. My iPod, three of my favorite books, and a lamp. Taking a deep breath I let the razor clatter onto the counter top. Picking up my phone a message from an unknown number glows into the night.

Hey this is Ashton, sorry to wake you >.< Can we meet at 12:00 instead?

Quickly wiping away my tears I rapidly type- Yep yep, that's totally fine :) 

Alright cool, bring your iPod tomorrow eh? Maybe we can text about random strangers and they won't even know xP

I let out a small chuckle - You know if you learned sign language it would be better, then we could just stare at them as we did it yet they would never know what we were saying L:

xD Even better, you're quite the comedian inside aren't you?

Oh, definitely. For sure.

You're being sarcastic, aren't you?

Noooo, not at all. Why in the world would you think that silly boy.

Oh Monroe, you never cease to amuse me. I have to go though, see ya tomorrow! :)

Kk, see you tomorrow ;)

Goodnight Monroe

Night Ashton

Setting my phone down I strip out of my soiled clothes and put on fresh ones after tending to my wounds. As I stare at my reflection I grab the silver razor and examine it. Not today. 

Stashing it back into the vent I screw it back in and crawl into my bed, a new emotion bubbling inside me.