Muted

Chapter 4

⚠️TW⚠️ this chapter contains mentions of suicide, please do not continue if this topic is triggering to you. If you need help, please call the suicide hotline below:

(800) 237-8255

Once school was over, I went home and sat in my bed just thinking about the rest of lunch. Dillon didn't even attempt to speak to me, he would just look up at me once in a great while with that signature scowl of his like he was annoyed at my presence. It was so awkward.

But that's not all I was thinking about. After the lunch period was over, I realized just how many classes I actually had with Dillon. How have I not noticed before? I was so stunned at how many classes I had with him that I constantly found myself staring at him. Evidently, he could feel my eyes on him because he'd turn to look at me in annoyance, and my face would burn from embarrassment.

I lay in my bed just thinking to myself, why are you suddenly so drawn to him? Because he helped you up after that incident with Tommy? Because he saved you from those perverted men? I decided those were the best, logical answers. After all, I wasn't friends with him—in fact the incident with Tommy is really the only thing that made me come in real contact with him.

I decided that was the only option that made sense... because it kind of did.

I sighed from boredom and got up to walk around my house. I was looking at everything I've seen my whole life, but re-observing. I looked at pictures on the wall, and stopped at the one of my mother, my father, and me—when I was five.

It's the last photo we have together, but it's my favorite. I was upon my fathers shoulders, smiling so hard my eyes disappeared. My mother was helping me balance while smiling at my happy face, and my father smiling to the camera.

It was the first picture in a long time that he had actually smiled in... and I cherished it. Spite being, I knew now how fake it was.

My father suffered severally from PTSD and depression in the last few years we've been with him. He used to be a war veteran and found out my mother was pregnant with his child—me—for about two months after he had been deployed. She wanted to tel him before he left, but she was so nervous that she couldn't.

But nonetheless, my father was so happy to learn he would have a mini me walking around the house. He used to tell me I was his biggest pride in life, even with knowing my disability.

When my mother and him had found out I was deaf, they never saw my disability as a burden... but more so a learning curve. They were patient with me as I was with them.

As the years went on, my fathers post trauma had become more severe and visible. He had turned to alcohol when no one was around, would awake from night terrors, and my mom and him would argue most nights.

I guess one night all that trauma just crashed onto him like a tsunami.

"You need to eat your vegetables," my mother signed to me as she looked back from the sink to a five year old me sitting at the table with my arms crossed.

Being the little brat I was, i scrunched my nose and stuck my tongue out at her.

She smiled at my little antic before turning back to the dishes.

The phone rang, I knew it did because she wiped her hands dry on a dish towel before answering the call.

I could see the distress in her face, but I didn't know what for. She turned to look at me real quick—tears brimming her eyes—before turning away from me to not worry me. But I still worried. Because I could feel the vibrations of her voice bouncing off the walls. The vibrations were shakier than usual, letting me know she was crying.