mute

chapter 4

The next day dawned with a tentative sense of calm. Billie woke up in her own bed, surrounded by the familiar comforts of her room. The memory of the previous day’s meltdown still clung to her, but she felt a little more stable, a little more ready to face the day. The decision to homeschool still loomed large in her mind, both a relief and a challenge. But today, she was determined to give it a try.

After breakfast, her mother, Maggie, guided her into the living room where they had set up a small workspace just for Billie. The table was neatly arranged with books, notebooks, and the materials they would need for the day’s lessons. It was quiet, a far cry from the chaotic noise of school, and Billie appreciated the calmness. But as she sat down, she felt the familiar knot of anxiety tightening in her chest.

Maggie sat beside her, offering a gentle smile. “We’ll take it one step at a time, Billie. There’s no rush. We’ll go at your pace.”

Billie nodded, her hands trembling slightly as she picked up a pencil. Her mother started the lesson with something simple—basic math, a subject Billie usually found manageable. But today, the numbers and symbols on the page seemed to blur together. The familiar comfort of routine was gone, and without it, Billie felt lost.

She tried to focus, to keep up with the lesson, but the anxiety continued to build, making it harder to concentrate. Every noise, every small distraction seemed amplified, pulling her attention away from the task at hand. The quiet ticking of the clock, the distant hum of the refrigerator—it all became too much. The pressure mounted, and Billie’s heart began to race.

Maggie noticed the signs immediately—the way Billie’s shoulders tensed, the way her breathing became more rapid. She reached out to comfort her, but Billie flinched away, the touch too much to bear in that moment.

“It’s okay, Billie,” Maggie said softly, her voice filled with understanding. “We can take a break if you need to.”

But Billie didn’t respond. The anxiety had already spiraled into something more overwhelming. The lesson, the pressure, the change in routine—it all collided in her mind, triggering a tidal wave of emotions she couldn’t control. She felt the familiar sensation of an autistic meltdown approaching, the world around her closing in as the pressure became unbearable.

Without a word, Billie pushed herself away from the table, her movements frantic as she bolted from the room. Maggie called after her, but Billie didn’t stop. She needed to escape, to find somewhere safe, somewhere she could breathe.

Her feet carried her to the one place she always felt safe—Finneas’s room. She burst through the door, her heart pounding, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Finneas looked up from his desk, startled by her sudden entrance, but the concern in his eyes was immediate.

“Billie?” he said quietly, getting up and moving toward her.

But Billie couldn’t answer. The meltdown had taken hold, and she was shaking, her hands clenching and unclenching as she struggled to hold herself together. Tears streamed down her face, and she began to rock back and forth, the only way she knew to try and calm herself.

Finneas knew better than to approach too quickly. He stayed a few feet away, giving her space while making sure she knew he was there.

“Billie, it’s okay,” he signed, his movements slow and deliberate. “You’re safe. I’m here.”

Billie’s hands shook as she tried to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. The frustration of being unable to communicate only made the meltdown worse. Her hands flew to her head, pulling at her hair as she let out a silent scream, the emotions inside her too intense to contain.

Finneas moved closer, his heart breaking for his sister. He reached out slowly, taking her hands in his and gently pulling them away from her head. “It’s okay,” he signed again, his face full of compassion. “You’re going to be okay.”

Billie’s body trembled with the effort of holding back the storm inside her, but Finneas’s presence helped ground her, even if just a little. She squeezed his hands tightly, her grip almost painful, but Finneas didn’t flinch. He just stayed with her, his touch steady and reassuring.

Slowly, the meltdown began to subside. Billie’s breathing slowed, her tears gradually stopping as the intense wave of emotion passed. But she was left drained, her body and mind exhausted from the ordeal. She slumped to the floor, her back against the wall, and Finneas sat down beside her, never letting go of her hands.

They sat in silence for a few moments, the room quiet except for Billie’s ragged breathing. Finneas knew better than to push her to talk; he just stayed close, letting her know that she wasn’t alone.

When Billie finally looked up at him, her eyes were red and swollen from crying, her face pale and drawn. She raised her hands slowly, signing with shaky fingers, “I can’t do this, Fin. It’s too much.”

Finneas squeezed her hands again, his expression gentle. “You don’t have to do it alone,” he signed back. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Billie nodded weakly, but the fear and exhaustion were still etched into her features. She didn’t know how to navigate this new reality, this new way of learning. The change in routine was overwhelming, and she felt like she was failing, like she couldn’t handle it.

But Finneas wasn’t about to let her fall apart. He stood up and held out his hand to her. “Come on,” he signed. “Let’s do something different. Something that might help.”

Billie hesitated for a moment before taking his hand. Finneas led her over to the piano in the corner of his room, a familiar and comforting sight. Music had always been a safe haven for both of them, a way to express what words couldn’t.

“Play something,” Finneas signed, his expression encouraging. “Anything you want.”

Billie looked at the piano, her heart still racing, but the sight of the keys, the familiarity of the instrument, brought a small measure of calm. She sat down on the bench, her fingers hovering over the keys for a moment before she began to play.

The first notes were soft, tentative, but as she continued, the music began to flow more naturally. Billie closed her eyes, letting the rhythm and melody wash over her, each note a small anchor pulling her back from the edge. The chaotic storm of emotions slowly began to settle, replaced by the soothing repetition of the music.

Finneas sat beside her, not playing, just listening, letting Billie lose herself in the music. He could see the tension slowly leaving her body, the way her shoulders relaxed and her breathing evened out. The music had always had that effect on her, calming her in a way that nothing else could.

As the last notes faded away, Billie opened her eyes, her hands still resting on the keys. The exhaustion was still there, but so was a sense of calm she hadn’t felt all day.

“Thank you,” she signed to Finneas, her movements slow but steady.

Finneas smiled, reaching out to ruffle her hair affectionately. “Anytime, Billie. Anytime.”

They stayed by the piano for a while longer, the silence between them comfortable and reassuring. Billie knew that the road ahead would still be difficult, that there would be more meltdowns, more challenges as she adjusted to this new way of learning. But with Finneas by her side, she felt a little more ready to face it.

And in the quiet moments, when the world became too overwhelming, she knew she could always return to the music, to the piano, and find her balance again.