Why I Write

2: Because My Life Is Messed Up

At lunch, I had to get one of my friends to get my lunch for me because I couldn't say what I wanted. And whilst everyone chatted about the upcoming dance, I glared into my pasta, as if willing it to disappear.

"Who are you gonna ask to the dance, Rowan?" asked Becky, thankfully bringing me to into the conversation. I quickly got out my notebook.

"I don't know yet. I'll probably stay at home and start on our history project," it read.

"Okay," said Becky. She quickly turned back to our friend, Honour.

Honestly, I couldn't see the big deal in the school dance. It was just some tacky way of raising money for the school and making those who didn't have (or couldn't get, in my case) a date feel uncomfortable. Don't even get me started on the king, queen and court of the dance. Two sixth formers always made up the king and queen, the court being a boy and girl from each other year group, voted in of course. Pathetic.

In our last lesson, Science, I had to sit next to one of Angelina's drag-alongs, Oliver Waleson. He had brown hair with - eck - blonde and caramel highlights that had definitely been straightened that morning, and deep blue eyes, thus making him the stereotypical school golden boy.

"Aren't you going to insult me today, Rowan?" he smirked. "Or have you lost your tongue?" The people around us sniggered, stopping when the teacher entered the room. I gave Oliver a sore look; that was really uncalled for.

"Today, class, we will be learning about elements. Now, there are elements, and then compounds..." Mr Walsh told us nervously, pushing up his glasses and pointing to diagrams on the board.

I got out my book and put my pen near the paper in my hand so it looked like I was copying it down, only to zone out a few seconds later, thinking of the glorious day where I will be ridden of being mute. Hopefully now. Maybe tomorrow.

Never going to happen.

Lately, my pessimistic attitude really was bringing me down. I didn't have hope in anything, not even a spark. The happy-go-lucky girl I used to be as a kid was gone and there was no getting her back. This was destroying me, bit by bit, and there was nothing I could do about it.

"Miss Keller, what is the difference between a compound and an element?" asked Mr Walsh, his ugly grey eyes looking at my own.

Oh no. I forgot to give my note. Again. I shrugged my shoulders unknowingly.

"Maybe you should listen more then," he said simply. "And next time, you will talk to a teacher, not shrug your shoulders."

"But, Mr Walsh, Rowan is mute. She can't speak," smiled Oliver innocently. Quieter, he said, "because she's a freak."

Rage built up inside me, stopped by Becky leaning over the gas tap and muttering at me to calm down. The so called popular people at school knew my weaknesses and my strengths, making me their ideal victim. It was worse after I found out that I couldn't speak.

Whilst Mr Walsh dove into a lecture on elements, I flipped to the back of my exercise book and began to doodle a boy with highlights getting chased by a teenage version of Medusa who had shockingly similar features to my own. Smirking, I showed Becky and Honour, who sat next to her. They began giggling like baboons, so I put my index finger to my lips, telling them to shut up. Honour passed my book back over and I slammed it shut before Oliver could notice it.

After a very silent afternoon registration, I walked out of the school gates, although a more suitable phrase might be 'imperial marched'. As I got into the car, I chucked my bag into the back seat and shoved my seatbelt on. I turned to my mum and she gave me a questioning look. I simply shrugged it off with an annoyed look on my face and stared out the window for the rest of the journey.

As I, quite literally, had no words to say, I laid sprawled out on my bed for the rest of the evening, my slow song playlist pounding at full blast. I didn't go down for dinner. I didn't say goodnight to my family. And, when it got too late, I put the music on full blast in my headphones. Consequently, I may have gone deaf, although I didn't. It wouldn't have been much of a problem.

Deaf and mute: what a great combination.

Soon it got to midnight and I still couldn't sleep. My head hurt from dehydration and my stomach rumbled like an oil-filled engine, though my stomach was nowhere near full. Staring at the ceiling, my eyelids began to flutter shut, and my brain went into a state of spasm and unconsciousness, otherwise known as my dreams.

If I wanted to be funny, I would tell you the story of how I surfed on a DairyMilk chocolate, riding hot chocolate waves with marshmallow buoys and a shortbread sand beach in the distance. However, if I was telling this story properly, and I was, I would tell you the story of devastation that hit me that dreamless but nightmare loaded night.

I was running from a man who wore a black hoodie, not even the street lights showing his face. Moonlight glistened on the poised gun he had pointed towards me as he chased me. Panting, I tried to run faster, sprinting, like a rabbit running from a wildfire.

Without expectations, I tripped on a shard of glass and landed face first into the concrete. A warm liquid ran down my face, and I instinctively put my hand to where the source of the copper smelling liquid was. Whilst pulling my hand from my face, I caught sight of a shiny red substance - blood.

A cackle from behind me. Rolling over, I sat up to see the man advancing on me, gun at the ready. With his spare hand, he pulled down his hood and I could now make out the ugly grey eyes and shaggy brown hair of my science teacher. He licked his lips like a cat removing trace of its innocent prey, tasting the fear my vibes were giving off.

He pointed the black gun at my heart. I heard the click of the trigger-

I woke up.

Sweaty, I flicked the light switch by my bedside and the lights snapped on. Regaining my consciousness, I sat silently for a minute or two. The dream had shaken me, and I wanted to forget it. As I checked the time, I saw that it was only just one in the morning. I turned off the lights.

Groaning, I turned over and fell back asleep.