Words Unspoken

Chapter 2 - Cigarettes

Will's POV

I reach for the doorknob of Dr. Joseph's office. I wasn't about to let him see my scars.

I swiftly swing the door open, planning on running full speed out the door, but when the door fully swings open and makes a slamming noise, I come face to face with a beautiful girl. She looked about my age with reddish-auburn hair and piercing green eyes.

"Were you standing there the whole time?" I ask her, my voice deadly calm. She nods meekly, looking up at me through her long, brown eyelashes.

I look her over one more time and rush the rest of the way out. I hate being so angry all the time. It's like I'm on some type of drug that I just can't control.

I speed out the front door of the therapy main office and feel my whole body shaking from the trauma.

I ball up my fists and tell myself, "Stay calm, Will. Stay calm," but my fists clench even tighter and then I glance around, looking for something easy to break to get rid of some of my anger.

The closest thing beside me, was the glass door that I just came out of.

"No, Will," I tell myself over and over. But a new surge of anger rushes through me, filling me with adrenaline, and then my fist flies and shatters the window.

When I look down at what I destroyed, I see the girl with auburn hair crouching on the floor, with her hands wrapped around her small body.

I glance around and see all the members who work at that hell-hole gather around her, reassuring her that it was all going to be alright.

I shake my head with anger. They can lie to her all they want.

I walk around, trying to get away from the hell-hole and end up on a gum-covered, gross sidewalk.

Knowing my way around the city really helps sometimes. My anger boiling down some, I shove my way through a group of tourists and open the door to a smoke shop.

"Two packs of Winston's." I demand.

"Your hand's bleeding." he gives me a weird look and turned around to grab the pack of cigarettes that were behind him on the shelves.

"Damn it," I say. My hand was really hurting now, now that I knew that it was bleeding.

I look down a my hand. Blood ran in lines down my hand, from my elbow down.

Using my hand, I run my fingers through the blood.

"Fuck," I say this time.

I wipe my fingers on my jeans, leaving red marks all over them. I take off my black varsity jacket and try to wipe off some of the blood.

"That'd be 9.72." the cashier hands me my cigarettes, and I hear the jingle of the door on my way out after I pay for the cigarettes.

When I step outside, the air outside is chilly and crisp. It seemed like a storm was coming.

I pull my hood up over my head, paying close attention not to mess up my perfectly molded quiff.

I strut down the street for a bit, observing the city.

About twenty minutes later, I realize that I have no idea where I am. I look around and find a nearby bench to sit on and pull out the pack of cigarettes that I just bought.

Lighting one, I inhale the sweet, addicting smoke, and, after a few seconds, breath it out. I lay my head back and listen to the city sounds, slowly zoning out yet again.

By the time the puff of smoke that I just exhaled disappears, I see a girl, barely 5'6", standing right in front of me.

She had red hair and green eyes that caught my attention. Where did I know that face?

I put the cigarette to my lips again and inhale again.

This time, when I finish, I throw the cigarette backwards and it lands somewhere behind the bench, ready to wait for few years to disintegrate.

After a second or two I internally face palmed. Of course! This was the girl that was outside of his office when I had that melt down.

"Hi," I say awkwardly. What do you tell a girl that stands in front of you when you nearly just killed her half an hour ago?

She watches me and then takes a seat down right next to me. Crossing her legs, she stares out at the busy street in front of her.

God, couldn't she at least fucking tell me hello? I think to myself, barely holding down the anger still left in me.

I remain quiet.

After a while, she digs through her small purse and pulls out a pad of paper, in the shape of a heart. I frown at her. This was so not the time to give me her number.

I watch as she takes out a blue pen and scribbles the word, Hey.

"What happened to you? Are you like, losing your voice or something?" I ask her.

She scribbles again: I wish I was.

"Stop speaking in riddles," I reply. God, why couldn't I be nice for one damn minute in my life?

I'm mute: she writes finally, after several quiet minutes of thinking about our own thoughts.

"Yeah, and I'm deaf." I say sarcastically.

I watch as her face contorts into a painful expression.

She gets up. I stay seated.

"God, why can't you just take a joke?" I ask her.

Tears stream down her face.

Her green eyes pierce into my golden-brown ones. I look away.

I watch her again as she flips through the pad of her sticky notes and watch again as she rips one out of her pad.

She hands it to me, and I take it, watching her now teary-green eyes as I look down at the words.

As soon as I take the note, she turns on her heels and leaves, her reddish-auburn hair flying behind her.

I look down at the note and it reads the same words she just told me only seconds ago: I'm mute.

~A/N: Hey there! @Forever_Yours_Too here! This was the amazing @IBelongWithTheBrits's chap. :) Don't forget to VOTE, COMMENT, and FOLLOW, if you haven't already.

The trailer on the sidebar is made by: @carpe-di3m.

~Forever_Yours_Too