Muted

Muted Chapter 1

I suddenly remembered the rules to ice and eased off the brake. The spinning slowed and stopped and a sigh of relief left my lips. My tires left a track through the snow tracing my path across four lanes of traffic into the oncoming cars. I quickly pulled at the seatbelt, but it didn’t budge. A blinding set of lights deafening horn blared as I was launched off the road and into a snowy field. It could have been a painting. But, I distorted the image with the scar of tracks and blood I left in my wake.

The snow was a blinding white. It reflected the ice blue sky and appeared to be an ocean. I took a hesitant step towards it. Nothing happened. My bare feet were blistered and bruised as I slid them into the snow. I flicked my foot around to watch the snow dance off my feet but, it was no longer snow. The snowy field suddenly transformed into what I could only described as horrifying. The white snow suddenly turned to coal black soot under my touch.

I opened my eyes and shut them quickly. I wrinkled my toes and the cracking sound they made was almost as deafening as the blaring car horn. I carefully rolled myself over before slowly opening my eyes. A beeping monitor drew all the attention in the room but my curled of mother was next. Her eyes were closed yet the rest of her body remained restless.

I called for her but no noise escaped my throat. I grasped my throat, struggling to find a way to get her attention. My anger flared and I grabbed an empty water bottle sitting on the rolling table next to me. I chucked it at her head. Her eyes flooded with fear before, turning into relief.   

"Oh baby I'm so sorry! I should have never let you drive with the weather being like that. This is my fault. I'm so sorry," She cried from her new perch next to me. I slid my hand onto her head in a way I hoped to be comforting. I wanted to sooth her but no noise came from me. I grabbed her face and made her look at my throat.  She asked if I was thirsty but I quickly shook my head.

A slight knock at the door startled my mother and I. The door opened and a short man with thinning hair stepped into the room. I could only assume he was a doctor, as there was a stethoscope around his neck.

"Ah! She's awake. How are we feeling?" He asked. A bout of cynicism flared as I wanted to laugh at his question. My answer would have been 'bad' obviously. I mean how would he feel if he woke up in a hospital not being able to speak? A quick gesture of an inappropriate finger had my mother profusely apologizing for my behavior.

I looked at his face and saw he was waiting for an answer. I pointed at my throat and shook my head. I mouthed the words 'I can't talk' hoping, he could read lips.

"We thought this might happen. Mrs. Walters," He started and turned towards my mom. "We came across in an x- ray that when the window broke and sliced your daughter's neck, it damaged her vocal chords. We don't know if this is something permanent or will heal up in time," The doctor said. He began to ramble on about how weird my injury placement was and I ignored him. Mute. I was mute. Never in my life would I have thought that my voice would be taken away. I could never sing, argue, whisper, tell jokes, or even scream ever again. A boy would never fall in love with the sound of my voice. Okay, that one is a little farfetched, but it happens all the time in books. 

After two weeks in the hospital, I was finally released. My relief was insurmountable. Hospitals were the loneliest place I had ever been. The loneliness was only exaggerated when people would try to come in and accompany me. I mean honestly, I didn’t need anyone else feeling bad for me.

 Everyday a woman would come and help me learn sign language so I wouldn't have to carry a note pad everywhere. Though, I could still hear, my parents had to learn too because it would be pointless to sign to people who have no idea what you're talking about. But, now after two weeks I was on my own. Equipped with pain pills and my signing book, I left the hospital. 

At home my parents had a welcome back banner taped to the wall but the rest of the house was bare. I turned to my mom confused and slowly signed out what I thought was 'Where is everything?' She immediately picked up on what I was saying. She still felt guilty and blamed herself for the accident. So, she took it upon herself to learn everything about signing and could understand it a lot better than me. My dad was a bit slower on the uptake and still hasn't even glanced at the book. But, I understood. He was a busy man. He was a world known contractor and often had to travel for his job. 

"Dad's business has picked up a lot in Europe. We have to move to save money on travel," She said. I wanted to scoff at that. We weren't poor in any way. "And we will be closer to him so you won't be alone as much," She finished. This meant mom would be traveling with dad more often. I sighed internally.

I shrugged my shoulders and signed the word bathroom to my parents. I walked down the hallway I had been familiar with for 16 years of my life. I walked in the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. My hair so blonde that it was almost white covered the dark layers and laid a few inches below my shoulders. My gray eyes twinkled a little in the fluorescent light. My dark eye makeup, which was the only makeup I was wearing, contrasted against my pale, alabaster, skin. My skin itself was clear of freckles and blemishes. My lips weren't pink like normal people. They always held a faint purple that I thought made me look like eternally cold.

I then looked down to the clothes I was wearing. On top I had on a grey and white striped v- neck sweater that swayed loosely against my thin body. I wasn't grossly thin or anything. My build was due to playing soccer since the age of four. My legs were covered by a dark pair of denim skinny jeans. I had on a white pair of vans. I figured I would be comfortable enough. I was walking away from the mirror when I noticed the pink line across my neck. The scar left from the accident. It was at least three inches long and extended from by my ear to the middle of my neck. I lightly touched it and a single tear slid down my face.

This single line took my voice from me. It ripped part of me away. This small jagged pink mark tore away a life line from me. How would I call for help if I were attacked? I couldn't even sing my child to sleep if I ever had one.

A couple more tears slid down my face before I wiped them away and walked back out to my parents. I smiled weakly at them and followed them to the car. The trip to the airport was about an hour. We went through all the necessary booths and stations to gain access to our flight. I sat in the comfy first class seat next to the window. My dad sat in the set in front of me while my mom was in the one next to me. I closed my eyes hoping to sleep on the long flight.