Come and Go

Chapter 2 (thats nice.)

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  A month later, I darted through the woods, a dark blue and gray backpack banging against my knee with every step. I caught sight of a familiar tree and hopped up it. It's branches had the same thickness as a month ago, but instead of bare, rotting bark, leaves sprouted all around it. I glanced around and saw a familiar face above me. He was hanging upside down and staring at me with wide, big-blue eyes. I grinned and rolled my eyes. He flipped over and landed gracefully on the branch. I crossed my legs and pulled the heavy backpack in my lap and breathed heavily. The guy, the one I saved a month ago, tried to snatch it out of my hands, but I held on tightly.
     "Wait, wait, wait. Come down, feisty." I said, unzipping the first pocket.
      "There was a shop, not too far from here, and I scavenged whatever I could. And what I DID find was, 5 cans of fruit, mainly pineapple and peaches, 2 jars of peanut butter, stale lucky charms, a metal canteen, brownie mix, 3 cans of tuna, and a whole thing of unopened chips." I placed them one by one in his hands as I talked, making sure he didn't drop anything.
     "Are you ever going to talk to me?" I asked after a couple of beats. His head shot up and he stared at me, a hint of confusion flashing through his features. I sighed and hugged my knees to my chest as he opened a can of tuna. I grabbed a knife hanging around my waist and started picking dirt out from under my nails.
    Some days, we just sat like this. Wind blowing my golden-brown hair back and cooling my neck, the wind rusting his short, raven-black hair. Around 20 minutes later, I almost cut myself with the knife as an idea popped in my head. I hopped off the branch I was sitting on and landed on the guys branch. He was scooping peanut butter up with his dirty hands and I snatched it.
    "I need to ask... Well, that's not going to work, nevermind.... Okay, let's see if this works..." I said out-loud. He stared at me and I closed my eyes and did a series of motions with my hands. When I peered through my eyes, the boy was staring at me with curiosity. I was about to give up and wonder what was wrong with him when he did a different set of motions with his hand. I gaped at him and he slowly smiled. I signed a couple words in his direction and he responded with a different series of patterns.
     "Jacob." I whispered. His name was Jacob. I added other hand movements, trying to make them faster then the last. Jacob responded and I tried not to fall off the branch in surprise. He was deaf AND non-verbal. Auditory verbal agnosia.  That was the disease he got when he was 9. He told me how the doctors rushed to save him from the world of no sound, but there was no way he could escape it. He was going to be like that forever and he never really understood anybody or how to work on anything because he... Well... He just gave up. But he knew sign language.
    How do you know sign language? He signed, curiosity, hopefulness, and happiness flashing through his face all at once. I smiled sadly and replied.
    My dad taught me. He was deaf and I really wanted to learn how to talk to him. That was when I was 5, but I guess it became no use because 3 years later he died. My mum left me, in grief and sadness; left me to people I didn't even know. They treated me like I was Cinderella, and my stepsister like she was Jesus coming down from the heavens as a blessing.
     I was always the one left out, I signed. Even though I wasn't talking, luckily, my throat started closing up and my eyes started to water, but I refused to cry. I continued. They gave her the most precious of things. Lacey dresses, priceless jewels, ruby-encrusted heels. They were some rich people. But they just wanted their daughter to have a sister to bully, so that's where I came in and they gave me the crappiest of clothes. Hand-me-down tattered shirts, ripped jeans that were too small AND too tight, tiny flip-flops. The dresses they gave me were made out of scratchy wool and I was only aloud to wear them to clean the ENTIRE house.
    So when the "outbreak", I guess you would call it, occurred, I was happy that one of the first ones was Rachel, my step sister. And then Trinity, my step mom. And then Gabriel. My step dad.
     I stopped and stared at the orange-colored sky. Jacob was quiet and when I glanced at him, he was staring at me with the same, quiet expression he always gave me. What's your name? he gestured. I stiffened and shook my head.
    "No." I swept my hand as a signal of good night and lifted myself on the branch above and curled in a little ball. I shivered. The last time that happened... No. The last time I told someone my name, that was a mistake. They manipulated me. Twisted my mind and will. I couldn't; not again, at least.