Muted

Chapter 18

It was Thursday I was sitting in Mr. Callahan's class, laying attention as he explained how we would be going over Shakespeare for the next three weeks. I didn't mind that we were doing Shakespeare. After all, every grade did Shakespeare, it was easy for me at this point.

While sitting in Mr. Callaghan's class, I kept getting lost in the thought of Dillon. After the night Dillon kissed me, I hadn't seen him the five following days. I honestly was worried for I had a basic idea of what his home life was like. I was nervous to text him because I still couldn't quite comprehend if he meant to stay away from him or to be with him.

Once class was over, I looked over to Rebel feeling hopeless. He knew I was thinking of something–or someone–because instead of speaking, he signed, "What's up?"

I started to bite my lip, then signed back, "Have you heard from Dillon since the day we all hung out?"

Rebel looked at me with shock and confusion before signing back to me, "Yes. Haven't you?"

I just shook my head no. In a weird way I felt offended. I felt offended because I was sure that this was Dillon's way of saying he didn't want to be around me anymore. He took my first kiss, and now he's gone.

I looked back at Rebel and just shrugged before getting up and walking out of the classroom. I made my way to the football field to have a snack on my free period, but I was not expecting to see Dillon there fighting Tommy–well... not fighting yet, but clearly about to.

There was a crowd surrounding the two chanting for the two to fight, and I could easily make out Aiden and Emily whom were trying to prevent it from happening. I quickly ran to the two frantically trying to ask what was going on, but the people in the crowd kept shoving me away.

Once I finally got through the crowd, I could see Tommy's face making it easy to know what he was saying, not so much Dillon.

"What exactly would you do Dillon? There is no harm in me having fun, you're just going to hurt her and get over it in a few days," Tommy said. Were they talking about me? As if on cue, Tommy turned his head in my direction and gestured to me. Dillon turned to look at me and I'm pretty sure I could see guilt on his face that I was witnessing what was happening right now.

"Really Dillon? This over Angie? Over Becca? Even over Aiden's sister," Tommy questioned.

Dillon didn't get to answer, because Emily butted in, "Tommy stop!"

"Come on Dillon! Answer the question," Tommy continued as he slowly started to approach me. I didn't know what exactly was going on, so I immediately went as stiff as a board. "Dillon, buddy... would you really protect her?"

Everything happened so quick, and with that being said, Tommy delivered a quick slap to my face. He hit me so hard I actually fell back.

Once I sat back up, I saw the people around me around me chanting once more. Some even screaming bloody murder. But what took me by surprise was that Dillon had Tommy pinned to the ground, a bleeding mess.

Emily and Aiden were trying to pull Dillon off of him before he killed him, but failed to succeed. I walked up and also started tugging on Dillon. By the time he realized he had three people trying to get him to stop, he finally let go.

Dillon stood up from his position and a bunch of the kids took off running. Tommy still laid on the ground, bleeding like hell and unconscious. Dillon turned to look at all of us, his eyes landing on me last and holding their position for a solid minute.

I once more started to fear him. I didn't know how to possibly handle his anger, and I'm sure he knew because he took off. Aiden and Emily started to help Tommy up and I wanted no part of ever thinking Tommy could be a decent person. I looked at the three and took off running in the same direction Dillon went.

Once I finally caught up with Dillon, I was pulling on his arm to get his attention. All he did was look at me, then proceeded to walk. I was for sure that he really wanted nothing to do with me, and I had no idea why. But, I wasn't about to just walk away without and explanation.

I continued to walk next to him, hoping he'd pay me some attention. He did. Just not the positive kind.

"Why are you following me," he asked, agitation covering his face. I pulled out my phone to answer, but he cut me off, "No! Talk!"

I looked at him beyond offended. I could feel my face heating up, my ears turning red, and my eyes ready to burst.

"Talk," he said again clearly more annoyed. My breathing became very heavy on my chest for I was trying not to break down. Dillon grabbed ahold of my shoulders tightly, and it was just as scary as the time at Walmart. "Dammit Riley! Talk! Say something!"

He kept taunting me over and over. He started to feel like the rest of the kids in school. Being told to 'talk' was a very fresh insult to me. He wouldn't stop, so I tried my hardest to speak the words, "I don't know how!"

I kept trying and trying to let the words flow out of my mouth, but I didn't know where my tongue placement should be, nor did I know the correct width of how open my mouth should be. I was embarrassed, but I was trying because I wanted him to let me go.

It got to the point where I was so frustrated and angry with myself that I finally let my tears fall. It was like a storm that wouldn't stop.

I couldn't get those annoying words out as hard as I tried, so I tried to string another set of words. And I must have let them out correctly because he immediately stopped and stared at me shocked and hurt: "I hate you!"

Dillon looked at me, furiously blinking and licking his lips, trying to process what I had said.

"What," he questioned.

"I hate you," I repeated.

Once he realized he heard me correctly, his grip on me tighten, "No you don't. You don't hate me, Riley," he said, it was clear he was trying to convince himself more than me.

I shook my head no and felt my voice soften then said once more, "I hate you."

I could see nothing but fear, sadness, and anger in his face. But it was at that moment that I wish I could hear it in his voice.

Every single emotion met his eyes, and I knew very well that he feared losing me. It was petty, but I wanted him to fear losing me because I was pretty sure in that moment that I was confident in losing him.

He looked down then released me from his grip. I immediately wiped my eyes, then grabbed my shoulders to rub the spot that would surely be bruised in the next few hours. I backed away a little, and his eyes followed.

I pulled out my phone and answered his first question as much as I didn't want to, "I followed you because you defend me and I was worried about you."

With that I walked away, heading to the general direction of my home. I didn't bother turning around to ask him why he didn't talk to me in five days. He made it pretty clear that he wants nothing to do with me.

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