MUTE || Gallavich

Seven: The Will

𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭: 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺 𝘣𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.
-

I know something nobody else does. This weight is wearing me down. Everywhere I go, I feel like I'm carrying a dead body.

Where can I dispose of it?

"Mickey tried to kill himself." I hear V talking to Fiona from the living room. I lift my head up and listen closely.

"Wow, really? Badass Mickey Milkovich?" Fiona jokes.

"Yeah, I heard about it from some kid who apparently saw an ambulance taking him away on a stretcher. Then, Mandy started talking to the EMT about how he took some pills." V continues. 

I slowly stand up and walk into the kitchen. I write something on my notepad. IS HE OKAY?

V and Fiona both look at me weirdly.

I add: MICKEY, IS HE OKAY?

Fiona takes a sip of coffee and laughs slightly, "You worried about him?"

I nod.

V asks, "Why?"

I simply shrug. Why? That questions rings in my ears as I walk down the streets, searching for Mickey. Why? I repeat the question in my head as I make it to that bridge. The same bridge I forgave him at, and the same one he told me he was planning on killing himself at.

He isn't there. I sit down on the ground and wait for him. I don't expect him to come but he might and, even if he doesn't, that's okay. I'll still wait. Forever, if I have to.

Hours pass and the sky has been almost every shade of blue when Mickey finally arrives. He looks different. His hair is messy and his face dirty. He doesn't notice me right away.

"Fuck, what are you doing here?" He asks when does.

I start off writing something, but decide to say something else: nothing. I tear the page out and crumble it up.

Mickey laughs a little bit and sits down beside me "I don't really feel like talking anyway." he whispers, closing his eyes. "I'm tired."

I reach for his hand and he gives it to me. I close my eyes too and we both just sit there, on the ground, holding hands, in complete silence.

Even though it's summer, it feels a little like winter. The wind is blowing and I'm shivering, but still, I wouldn't mind sitting here forever. If it meant I'd be with Mickey.

I open my eyes and look at him, and am shocked to see him looking back at me.

"Why don't you talk, Ian?" he asks. Again, he asks. I almost want to tell him. But I can't.

My throat feels dry. I'm shivering even worse now, and not because of the cold.

"Please," He squeezes my hand, staring into my eyes, into my soul. "tell me."

The thought of finally telling someone overpowers my fear. I let go of his hand to reach into my pocket and grab my notepad and pen. I write: I WAS

But it stops there. My hand shakes trying to write the rest of the sentence. Mickey sets his hand on my arm, reassuring me.

I finish the sentence: I WAS RAPED.

I drop the notepad and look to see his reaction. He stares at me with disbelief, with pity. My lip quivers and I look away, waiting for him to say something but he doesn't. He doesn't say anything and so I start to cry.

It's not a silent cry either, I'm full on sobbing. I already knew what happened but it's the first time I've admitted it. I was raped. I repeat in my head. I WAS.

Mickey grabs my hand, then pulls me close to him, holding me tightly. He whispers something in my ear, "I hear you."

I hold onto him, my sobs quieting until the only sound is the wind and of us breathing. We both sit there, on the ground, the wind blowing, hugging each other.

I hate silence. It's scary and it's louder than words but somehow, Mickey makes it okay. I'm so afraid of everything and I hate everything but I don't hate Mickey. Of course I don't. I love him...

And he's going to die before I get to tell him. He gave me the will to admit what happened, even if I didn't say it aloud. Can I give him the will to live? Because I can't without him.

-

Ian: I can't let him go.