Silent Art

Chapter 2 - Silent Damien

Okay, so where I left off, Miss Baila was at home with her oh-so adorable brother!

Questions that you possibly may have that I am answering!

is that Baila is 20, Damien is 21

Damien is not from America, although you'll find out where he's from later.

Damien dosen't live with his father, he lives with Sam.

Damien uses sign language, all though outside he uses a white board, he hates using it though.

They both didn't have any professional training!

If you have anymore questions ask'em!

I am done with my rambling, I'll give you what you came for......!

Chapter 2 - Silent Damien

Damien

        I walked into the Starbucks feeling the slight pressure of my whiteboard hanging around my neck. The second I walked in, the silence was loud and over-bearing. Wouldn't expect that from one of the largest chains in America. Walking over to the counter, the cashier asked me what I wanted and I put up three calloused fingers hoping he'd understood what I wanted; a white chocolate mocha. 

The boy at the counter, looking about my age, snickered,  "Dude, use your words, what do you want?" He asked with an exasperated tone.

My face flushed with color, but I decided to try again. I really wanted this fucking coffee.

Using my right hand, I pointed towards the signature drinks menu, and with my left I help up three fingers again.

"What the fuck dude? You're not deaf because you can clearly hear me; so just speak- I seriously can't figure out what you're trying to ask for." My face began to morph into anger and deciding not to do anything too brash, I waved my hand in a motion to say forget it.

Some days it's funny when people seemingly get frustrated with me, and I like teaching people life lessons on how to not be an asshole. On the other hand, I mildly just wished I was normal.

 He did this to me and I couldn't do anything about it.

"Stop screaming Damien!" He yelled at me, whilst throwing fists and kicks. 

I continued to scream and wail, "Stop crying! No one cares about you! Your cries won't be heard!" He shouted throwing more kicks at me. Someone will find me, someone will take this man I'm supposed to call my father away. Someone will do it.

"Where's you mother? Gone. Where's your brother? Gone. All you have is me and I surely don't care about you," He was starting to make sense. He spat in my face one last time, "No one cares about you, talking won't do anything. Do everyone a favor and disappear!"

Well I tried, but I couldn't do it. I was more or less shocked into a silence. Even if I wanted to, my mind would scream at me to shut up. Replaying over and over what my father had said to me. No one cares about me, so what's the point in shouting and screaming and talking; nothing.

There was nothing I could possibly do anymore but make gestures in hopes someone would be kind enough to try to figure out what I was saying. Gestures soon turned into dancing, something people would be less intimidated by and was a lot cooler than sticking fingers up.  I didn't need to say anything, to anyone, anymore.

Roaming the streets I went into the alleyway and shoved the door open. 

The lights illuminated, and I smiled. I was home.

I placed my old iPod that I've had for years, into its dock and began to do what I knew best. Or at least thought I knew best, it's not like I really had anyone to ever tell me anything different.

       (A/N this is where you'd play the video to watch him dance.)

A smile began to adorn my features as I felt the familiarity of my sneakers gliding across the stage and the sharp movements take place in my body. 

I stopped abruptly, standing up when I heard the door slam open.

"Dames!" A male voice called at me. I relaxed and laughed slightly.

(A/N The words in dialogue that are italicized means that Damien using sign language.)

        "What do you want Sam?" I signed. 

He smirked, ever since we met I don't think his smirk has ever left his face. I have never met anyone so adamant on trying to talk to me or even get to know me. When we first met and I tried to shoo him off given that I refused to speak, he learned sign language so he could still talk to me- and consequently I learned sign language too, but that's not the point. Sam's a literal pain in the ass, but he's also my only family.

        "Just wanted to know what my dancer boy was up to." He responded whilst signing at the same time.

        "With the fact that I'm here and that you just called me dancer boy, shouldn't it mean that I'm dancing?"

        "No need to be feisty." He got on stage and slapped my back.

        I glared at him, "Feisty? I am not a girl, or some subject you work on at a bar." 

        He smirked, "Of course not, you're too ugly," I glared even harder at him. Ignoring my intense glares, he continued to talk, "I heard that there's a dancer girl that comes here too." I shot him a quizzical look, and knowing me well enough, he knew that meant that I was questioning him on how he learned this information and what the hell was he talking about.

        "There's this girl named Loren, pretty hot if I do say so myself, met her at the bar the other day, she had a little bit too much drink, got herself smashed ya know?  But seriously one of the hottest girls I've ever seen, the literal fucking best bo- " I slapped him on the arm.

        '"Get on with it."

        "You know for someone who has stood by you for so long, I'd expect you to be nicer." I glared at him harder.

        "Fine, anyways, through her drunkenness she was blabbing on about her best friend who disappears to some alleyway stage, that sounded quite familiar to the one we're currently standing in."

        That's impossible. I've been coming here for years, not a single time have I seen any girl or literally any other human, coming in or out of this place.

        My thoughts where suddenly cut off by the door slamming open, and a trail of light footsteps. 

I looked up, it was a girl.

"Who are you?"

~~~~~~~~~~~

A;FKALDGA;DOAIGA'ODIFGAD! I've been getting comments! Score one for the Imari!

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~Imari XP