Deaf. *Sequel to Mute.* A Connor McDonough-BYE Fan Fiction

Seven

I wake up and I roll over to where my phone is laying on my bed. I check the time. 11:32. Wow, the first night where I could actually sleep! I have no clue as to why I couldn't sleep, but ever since the new year, I haven't been able to sleep as well as I could've been.

I also forgot to mention, I'm homeschooled now! I've been doing some college courses so I can graduate and get at least one degree. My mom didn't want me going to a regular college because of the "me loosing my hearing" thing. She was afraid it would happen again.

I was still kind of tired even though this was the first night in months that I've been able to get a goodnight sleep. SO I decided to check my social networks and blah blah blah. It was a pretty short check, since I didn't have many followers on Instagram or twitter but I still enjoy scrolling through the feeds. I was finished with my checking and I had no idea what else to do but I was sure I didn't want to get up. I scrolled through the many pages on my phone, looking for something to do to keep my mind busy. I found Pinterest and decided to check out what they had. I got bored of scrolling through there, too. I found Flappy Bird and played that as well. After two plays, I got bored again.

So, I set my phone down, and just layed there. For what seemed like hours. I couldn't go back to sleep even though I was still tired. I was super bored with my phone for the first time ever. I didn't wanna bother Connor. This helped me realize, I have no life. I have nothing to do. Until one tiny little voice inside my head gave me the tiniest hint of an idea.

You know you want to, the little voice squeaked.

I don't. I argued back with it. I can't. I gave it up.

Do it. It can only help you, it stated.

I couldn't disagree with it. I wanted to write so badly but I swore it off. I've quit writing for a year now. Connor almost broke me, but I stayed strong.

This was my moment of weakness. and I gave in. I hesitantly sat up in my bed, contemplating whether I should really break my pact with myself. Before I stood up, I came up with another excuse for me as to why I shouldn't write: it wouldn't be fair to Bailey.

I felt that me writing then reading her everything I wrote whether it was the longest chapter of the century or this tiny no-good story idea was our thing and always will be. Without her here, sitting at the foot if my bed eagerly waiting to hear what I'd written, it just doesn't seem right.

Not a good enough excuse, the voice said monotonally.

I don't want to? I came up with.

Bulldogs! Get up and grab your pen. You're writing whether you like it or not! The voice commanded.

I did as told; I grabbed my pen from the tin can I decorated as a child, took a deep breath, and took a step towards the place I hadn't been anywhere close to since forever, my bookcase.

At this time, my room seemed unusually large. I'm always complaining about how small it is and now it feels like I have to walk the length of a shopping mall just to get to my bookcase.

What would I write about anyways? I questioned the voice.

I swear if the voice had a face it would be giving me the "are you kidding me?" face.

Really? What would you write about? Um, helloooo! You lost your hearing! Um, hellooo! You met your favoritest celebrity in the entire world and if you haven't noticed yet, HES KINDA YOUR BOYFRIEND!

Which is completely bizarre. I still can't believe that myself, I told the voice.

And he's kinda madly in love with you! He's told you multiple times!

Which is crazier! Who would be stupid enough to fall for someone like me? A FREAK like me, I questioned.

I'm not even gonna argue with you anymore. he loves you and you know it. And don't you even TRY to tell me you don't love him yourself!

Well, I finally got the voice finally shut up. By now, I was kneeling in front of my bookshelf, not even hesitant about the placement of the book. I've thought about this moment happening for a long time.

I took a deep, deep breath and reached for the worn composition book. Considering how much I used to write in it, I don't know how I haven't filled up the entire book yet. Its like a never ending book of pages. I hesitantly walked over to my desk and sat down.

As soon as I got started, my pen just danced across the pages. It was as if I hadn't even stopped! I finished and read what I had written. Anger rose up from inside me and I ripped the page out, crumpled it up in a tight little ball, and threw it forcefully across the room at an innocent lamp. Luckily it didn't fall over.

That was my problem last time. Nothing I had ever written was good enough. I felt like people didn't truly like my works--as well as I didn't believe what I was writting was even close to being considered as "poetry." I could see the fakeness behind their voice as they told me what I had written was good. There wasn't any true enthusiasm behind it.

I'm not upset that they didn't like it. I'm upset that they lied to me, many many times.

Which reminds me, I miss Avery. They decided to keep her longer than usual. I at least thought they'd send her home to see how she's doing, whether she's improving or not, but "that's not how the correctional center does things."

I slowly reached out to my book and started to turn the page. I read over my last "poem" scrawled out in my loopy handwriting. I kept flipping the pages and reading over the old poetry before I'd even met Connor. It was so sad, and depressing. I was sad, and depressing.

Apparently, reading over my old works inspired me because I got an idea. I flipped back to the next blank page and began to write:

I think I push people away because I've never really had anybody who can handle this much of a mess. No body has ever given me a chance, so I guess that's why I've never really given myself a chance, and built up all these walls, yet I'm not suffocating. I just need someone who will break down my walls and won't leave me standing there with my heart ripped out of my chest as they run away, snickering.

I didn't get mad at this one. I didn't feel the heat rise up inside me and cause me to rip out the page and throw it across the room. I actually kind of . . . liked it.

I took a quick glance at my table clock on my desk. 12:17. Hum, I wonder why Connor hasn't tried texting me yet. Oh well, it's nice to have some quiet time to yourself sometimes. This is one of those times.

Just after I thought about it, my phone lit up. It was a message from none other than Connor Patrick McDonough. I ignored it. I smiled down at the new blank page and began to write for the second time today in almost two years. I finally found my writing groove again.

A/N: hey. I, um, I just wrote this short chapter cause I have some stuff planned for a bit later but didn't want to use it now. So here it is. I started it a while ago but never finished it. I guess I never knew how to finish it. Well, look at it now. :) I'm sorry it sucked and that there was no Connor in this one but *shrugs shoulders* that's just how life is, darling. Also, I actually wrote the little "quote" I guess you could call it, that Serenity wrote. I've got plenty more where that came from. Hope I don't give up on this story like I do every time I update a chapter!

Spring flowers and Easter candy!

~Trinity