The Mute [Elliot Alderson]

01 | t h e m u t e

Hello everyone! So, this is my first actual story I've ever written. Before we start, I want to clarify that italics are for personal thoughts and bold is for when the main character's phone is speaking for her. Thank you, and enjoy!

BES

Hello friend. It's nice to speak with you again. It's been so long since-

"Bes!" I turn my head and look toward my mother. She always seems to get irritated when I get lost in thought. I think maybe if I were in her shoes, I'd be angry too..

But she doesn't even try to understand.

"Sorry. I lost concentration." My mother groans and begins picking up dishes in a hurried motion.

She always cleans when she's angry.

"You always lose your concentration. I can't even get you to focus for five seconds. Every other time I choose to let it go, but this time it's important. I understand you are going through some things, but how long are you going to use that as an excuse? Sometimes it just hurts me. Do you ever think about anyone but yourself? I've got problems too-"

Of course I think of others. Just not you.

"Yes." I answer.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. "Fine, sure you do." She looks left, then right, and then takes a seat in front of me.

"Listen, Bes. I understand how hard it can be to be in your situation and have no one there to... protect you. Not that you need protecting." My mother sighs and runs a hand through her hair.

Situation. What a funny word for it. Why doesn't she ever just say it? Mute. M U T E. It's almost like the word hurts her ears every time.

"What are you getting at?" Before I can even finishing typing the words her face twists up in a way that you'd think she just bit into a lemon.

Did I upset her?

"Me and Joe..."

This asshole has a say in something for once? What a shocker.

"..We've decided.. You're twenty two years old now, Bes. You've graduated high school, you're almost done with your college degree," She pauses and bites her lip, looking into my eyes like she just flushed my pet fish down the toilet and she doesn't know how to tell me.

Here it comes..

"Maybe it's time that you leave the nest."

Please tell me you're seeing this too.

"Did you just say what I think you just said?"

This cannot be happening. I'm not ready!

I stand up quickly, terrified she would see the tears pricking the edges of my eyes. You cannot allow yourself to bleed around a shark like her. Shaking my head, I begin running up the stairs, blocking out my mother calling after me.

This was two weeks ago.

Now we're currently standing in a dusty, dingy, depressing New York City apartment. This is a drastic difference from the place I called my home. From bright curtains and cinnamon candles to no curtains and the smell of... what is that?