Believe

Seven

Back in the United Kingdom, my heart pounded profusely. In a few hours I'd be staring someone in the face. I definitely had questions, but would I be able to ask? Sure I would, but would I be able to? Would my voice be able to push out a word? Or would I make a weird pterodactyl noise? Turning towards Max, I coughed a little.

"You OK?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I uh, do you have paper and a pen? Or a notepad?"

Max turned to a camera man. He pulled out a pen and a small notebook. "Here," he obediently handed everything over.

"Thanks. Thank you." I flipped open the book. It was filled with dates and times. Possibly past Catfish videos. Finding a clean piece of paper, I scribbled down questions.

After we reached the borrowed vehicle, I climbed into the front.

"What were you writing, Phil?" Nev questioned, buckling in. I buckled in, and Max did so after me.

"I don't know if I'll be able to voice out questions. I have a few and if I can't speak, for whatever reason, I was wondering if either of you would ask them?"

Max raised his hand a little. I handed back the notepad and he scrolled through, reading what I wrote. Nev started the car and started to drive off.

"Dear, God." I mumbled.