mute

chapter 28

Chapter: The Struggle After Therapy

The ride home from therapy felt long, and Billie’s mind was heavy with everything that had happened during the session. She hadn’t wanted to go, and now that it was over, she wasn’t sure if it had helped at all. The weight of the conversation with Dr. Cassidy clung to her like a dark cloud, a reminder of the sadness she couldn’t shake.

In therapy, Billie had communicated solely through sign language. Her muteness, a part of her identity for as long as she could remember, made these sessions more exhausting than they might have been for others. It wasn’t just the conversation itself, but the physical act of signing her emotions, reliving them through the motions of her hands. Her body, already weighed down by the constant tics and twitches that had taken over her life, felt even more worn out after the session.

They had talked about a lot in therapy—about dance, about the future, and about the loss she felt. Dr. Cassidy had asked Billie how she was coping, and in response, her fingers had formed slow, trembling signs.

I don’t know what to do now, she had signed, her hands barely able to move from the weight of it all.

Dr. Cassidy had nodded, watching her closely. “It’s okay to feel lost, Billie. This is a big change for you, and it’s going to take time to adjust. But that doesn’t mean you’re alone in this. Your family, your friends—they’re here for you.”

But it didn’t feel like that to Billie. Even though she knew her family cared, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was drifting further and further away from them. She felt isolated, trapped in her own world of tics and silence.

When they pulled into the driveway at home, Billie felt a familiar sense of dread creep up her spine. The routine had been shattered, first by therapy, now by returning home. It was too much change, too fast. As soon as she stepped through the front door, her body began to react.

The signs were there from the start. Her tics intensified, her head jerking uncontrollably, her fingers flapping in quick, sharp motions. “Tsk! Hm!” her vocal tics echoed, repeating more and more frequently. Her heart raced, and she could feel the meltdown building inside her, a pressure she couldn’t contain.

Her parents, Maggie and Patrick, watched her carefully, sensing that something was wrong. They tried to guide her into the living room, to sit her down and calm her, but the moment they got close, Billie recoiled, her body lashing out in an uncontrollable burst of movement. She hit her father’s arm as he reached out for her, the impact sudden and hard.

“Billie, it’s okay,” Maggie said softly, trying to approach, but Billie’s body responded before her mind could. Her arms flailed, and she struck Maggie’s hand as well, her tics and the meltdown blending into one uncontrollable force.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, her vision blurring as the room around her spun. She couldn’t think straight; the overwhelming sensation of too much—too much change, too much noise, too much everything—consumed her.

Maggie looked helplessly at Patrick. “We need to call Odessa,” she whispered. “Maybe she can help.”

Odessa had always been able to calm Billie in the past. She understood Billie’s world better than anyone, and her presence had been a comfort when things spiraled out of control. Maggie quickly called Odessa, hoping her friend’s arrival would make a difference.

But the meltdown had already taken a deep hold on Billie. Her arms flailed again as she stumbled into the living room, knocking over a lamp in the process. She gripped her head, trying to contain the storm inside, but it was no use. She hit her own head, pulling at her hair as the frustration boiled over. The meltdown was violent, relentless. Every sound, every movement felt like a direct assault on her senses.

When Odessa finally arrived, Billie was still in the throes of her meltdown, her body trembling with the force of it. Odessa approached cautiously, trying to reach out, but Billie’s body jerked back in response, her tics sending her hands flying through the air uncontrollably.

For two hours, the meltdown raged on. Billie’s body was a warzone, caught between the tics and the overwhelming need to release the pent-up anxiety and frustration. Odessa stayed close by, not touching but offering her quiet presence, though even she couldn’t get through to Billie this time. The meltdown was too strong, too overwhelming.

Billie’s vocal tics erupted repeatedly, her voice breaking through the silence with sharp “Tsk! Hm! Ah!” sounds that echoed in the quiet of the house. Every time someone tried to come near her, she lashed out, not meaning to hurt them, but unable to control the movements of her body. She hit out at her parents again, her arms flailing as she tried to calm herself, but nothing seemed to work.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the meltdown began to slow. Billie’s body was exhausted, her limbs heavy with the effort of trying to contain the storm. She collapsed onto the couch, her breathing shallow and ragged. Odessa sat beside her, waiting for the right moment, though Billie’s tics still jolted through her every few seconds.

As the last tremors of the meltdown subsided, Billie curled up into herself, her hands shaking as she signed weakly to Odessa, I’m sorry.

Odessa shook her head, her voice soft and gentle. “You don’t have to be sorry, Billie. It’s okay. You’re okay now.”

But even as the storm passed, Billie couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of guilt that settled deep in her chest. She had hurt the people she loved, and despite their reassurances, she couldn’t help but feel like she was losing control of her own life.

The next few days were quiet. Billie stayed close to her room, still rattled from the intensity of the meltdown. She wore her ear defenders constantly, trying to block out the noise of the world, while Odessa stayed by her side, offering her presence when words or signs failed.