UnMuted (Sequel to Mute)

*12*

*Brand new ending, that last one was trash

———
Day 26 of living on my own.

By on my own, I mean I sleep in a playground tunnel and live off of the closest McDonald's of a stranger was kind enough to spare me some money or buy food for me.

In the near month I called the streets home, I spent a lot of time alone with my thoughts.

I thought about life before Rydell, life in Rydell, and if I'd ever result into going back.

The first thing I did was visit my old house. I figured now's the time to say fuck you to my trauma. It was closed off, abandoned, and covered in graffiti. I snuck inside that night to see what changed after I've been taken away.

It reeked something fierce, I nearly threw up a few times. I used a little flashlight to examine the house.

I went into the bare living room where all three deaths occurred. The cream colored carpet had brown stains on it and there was still some blood on the walls. It's like they didn't even bother to clean up.

I venture deeper into the place my fears first manifested. The kitchen looked the same, just empty.

I went upstairs, my heart beating faster as I ascend cautiously. My old room door was cracked open; the walls were a dingy light blue and had shadows from where my bed and dresser were.

As I thought about that night that man hurt my mother, beat my brother, and abused me made my chest tight with anger rather than nerves. The many times Julio came in to help me, but couldn't because our father was way stronger than him.

When it first started, he had just been initiated into the gang. I remember seeing that bandana on his wrist just hours before Father came into my room.

The gang gave him strength, but he still wasn't strong enough.

So, to get him back, he got one of his gangbanging friends to sell him a bad batch of heroin. Which ultimately killed him.

Julio took care of me and Mamá for a while before things got outta hand.

I close the door to the room then turned to see Julio's. I swallow around the lump in my throat as I look around. The first thing I spot was the picture.

The one I was coloring the night he killed Mamá then himself right in front of me. I enter the room slowly, bending down to pick up the page from over half a lifetime ago.

I became overwhelmed with emotion and before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face and onto the paper. I slowly fold it into fourths and slipped it in my pocket.

I then curl up on his dark colored carpeted floor, sobbing like a baby as memories I've had with my big brother ran through my head. Good ones and bad ones up to the moment I saw his brains on the wall and on my face and shirt.

I didn't even notice I fell asleep until the light from the poorly boarded window shone in my face harshly.

My old home was my new home until day 42, when a cop found me squatting there and I nearly got arrested.

After that, tunnels on playgrounds and hidden spots in different establishments is how I survived for a while. Though, I never stayed at a shelter.

I spent that time singing for money and avoided police.

One time, I woke up in an alley beaten, and my stuff missing. I didn't have much but extra shoes and clothing that I was outgrowing anyway. That's when I went back to the house and spent a few more nights.

Not once did I go into my parents' room until I got a little curious. I was somewhat surprised when I saw my mother's little desk against the wall. Some drawers we opened and empty except for one that had a lock on it.

With the technique picked up on picking locks, I was able to pop it open, seeing a few miscellaneous items. Old mail, notes written in Spanish, a letter from Julio's school, and a small piece of paper.

On it, it was a number with the name Clara on it with 'big sister' in parentheses.

I was tired, hungry, and weak.

After a long while, I came across a phone booth with a phone book on the shelf under the actual phone. With the two quarters I had, I get out the paper from my pocket.

Up until now, I haven't said a word since I left.

———
"Baby?" My girlfriend's voice calls from the doorway. I fold the picture back up and slipped it in my drawer quickly. Nobody knew I still had the one thing I kept from my traumatic childhood and I'd like to keep it that way.

Her eyebrows knit together when she noticed, "What was that?"

"Nothing. It's nothing," I try to convince. "Y/N, seriously, what is it?" I shake my head, "It's nothing, really." She studies me for a moment, "Well, Mama Clara said dinner would be ready in a minute."

I nod and just as she's turning to leave, my four year old comes in dancing and singing. "Mommaaa, time to eeeaaat," he sings, coming up to hug my legs. I mess with his soft hair, "Almost, baby boy." He nods then holds his arms up to me.

I scoop him up then poke his stomach, making him giggle. "Where's Mommy?"

"Downstairs cooking with Grandma," he says and I smile, looking into his big brown eyes. He definitely got those from his mother. Meanwhile, he has my nose, my lips, and my eyebrows.

He's a great blend of me and Ari.

———
*Short asf