Unspoken Words

2 ~ Here He Is

Tom's Pov

I'm back from working at McRonalds, as usual. My shift actually ended a bit later since I had to clean up the ice cream machine mess that Chiho made. She would've cleaned it up if she wasn't apologizing to the manager ten million times. (reference AND foreshadowing. How about that!)

Anyway, once I arrived at my apartment, it didn't seem like they were here yet. No light shined through my windows. I used the keys at my front door and entered.

What the hell is he doing here?! I thought he died!

Tord sat on my living room couch. He looked a lot different in terms of appearance, but I could tell it was the traitor. I walked closer with a slightly pissed off expression.

"Why are you here?" I snared, but no reaction. He just sat there, staring endlessly into nothing. 

Getting a better look at him, his eyes were grey and empty. There's scars on the right side of his face. He wore a black hoodie instead of his normal red. Besides the blinking, you could mistake him for a dead man. A corpse. 

His hands held a letter. Feeling a wave of guilt crashing in. Drowning my heart.

I'm too in shock to speak, so I approached, taking the envelope from him with caution. Tord felt it. His hands jerked back, and his head moved back and forth as if he's examining his surroundings.

The letter said that the man's name is Tord Larson.

He's deaf, blind, and mute in result of a terrible accident. 

By witnesses, it's said that I'm the one who shot the harpoon, causing the explosion and his injuries.

His current disabilities are my fault, so it's my responsibility to take care of him from now on. 

I ruined his life, and it's only right for him to ruin mine.

Looking back up at him pains me. Sure I hated him and wanted him dead, but this is much worse than death. Much worse than all the pain he caused me. 

There's another slip of paper inside the envelope. It said he learned the basics of mores mode, and that I need to teach him the rest. As well as some other things I need to be aware of. Like the toilet for example. 

Figuring he must be hungry, I cooked up some dinner. Porgies with caramelized onions and kielbasa. Sure, I'm a British man eating Polish food. So what.

In the middle of cooking, I noticed Tord was moving his head again, and sniffing. Since he can't produce sound, the best way to express his hunger is through a gentle smile. This made Tord stand up and walk towards the delicious smell. I felt like a worried mother, racing out of the kitchen for his safety. 

I held his arms back from going any further. Thankfully Tord didn't flinch at the sudden touch. 

After we ate, I have to replace his bandages with new ones. I held his hands and guided him to the bathroom. Following the directions, I gently tapped on his right fore arm twice. Tord must know what to do, since he stripped himself from his hoodie, revealing his fair build, scars and bloody wounds, looking somewhat attractive. Tord felt for the edge of the bandage and gently removed it from his arm as well. 

The sight of the laceration made my stomach drop. It's only been a couple weeks, and the cut is still a beet red, bleeding at a slow rate. This ran from his shoulder, down to his wrist. I'm surprised the limb wasn't removed or replaced.

Once I applied the disinfectant, Tord crunched up his face in the pain, staying still. It wasn't hard to finish.

I had the lamp left on in the living room, preparing the pull out couch for Tord. My hands gently held his shoulders, guiding him to the couch. Before he could sit down, he came to a halt, turning his head towards me. As if he can see. Can he?

His eyes looked me up and down, in panic. Grasping his head, tears emitting from his eyes. 
What's happening?

I caressed his cheek, wiping away the hot tears, attempting to calm him down. This only made him cry more.

It was like that for a bit until I finally put him down to sleep. Returning to check on him before I go to bed, his face's tear-stained, finally resting. It's like all the pain has ended. Just for the night, since sleeping reains unaffected with his new life.

I lied there awake in my bed, learning more about blindness. Apparently, there's different types. The one that seems most related to Tord, is being able to see silhouettes in front of a strong light source. He must of spotted my spiky hair, finding out it was me. Why would he cry?

The sight of him weeping is burned into my head.

You knew it was me.....didn't you?