Talk

Chapter 1

    The first time I went to speech therapy I cried. And I cried the second time. And the third. I'm no stranger to crying but I am a stranger to crying in front of strangers, as weird as it sounds. I try not to talk much, so when I break down into tears in front of someone I barely know it's pretty much open season from that point on, almost nothing is kept a secret. Once I start talking I can't stop, which is why I don't talk. Or, it's more so that I don't like my voice which is why I hardly talk. Being a yappy person is just another scoop of ice cream to add on to my Sundae of Despair™, which is also a metaphor because I hate ice cream. Along with that sickeningly sweet mound of depression comes anxiety, which makes me stutter over all of my words, as if my voice wasn't terrible enough. Whenever I talk I sound like a 3 year old, a mouth full of spit and a lisp. I'm also annoying, and I know that because Megan told me. Speaking of, I need to go meet her so she can drive me to speech therapy.

    I slammed my messy locker shut, praying that it wouldn't pop open and spill all of my papers everywhere, and headed on my way. As I walked down the hallway and weaved between noisy groups of people I waved and grinned to my band teacher Mrs. Petrov, my smile fading as she didn't notice and kept walking. Figures, as I didn't say anything, but what was I supposed to do? Say "H-h-h-hello" and watch the whole school laugh at me? Sit and stay quiet as they mercilessly wrecked my self esteem with petty insults, calling me "Melitha" instead of my real name? I kept walking, head down and focusing on my own shoelaces, and eventually escaped the almost impressive crowd of people walking slower than a grandma in a Costco. I shuffled past the exit and spotted my stepsisters' dull grey minivan, complete with a bumper sticker that said "honk if you love jesus". I climbed in and shut the door, throwing my heavy backpack off and slumping in my seat.

    "You ready to go?" she questioned, popping her gum and turning around so she could see me, her Gucci sunglasses bouncing light directly into my eyes.

    Am I ever? I buckled my seatbelt and sighed, nodding my head yes. She turned back around and started up the car, the AC blasting against my sweatpant-clad legs. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and stared idly at the screen, not sure what to do other than just daydream.

    "So..." Megan began to say, trailing off as she rolled down the window and took a deep breath of the summer air. "How was school?"

    I almost laughed at the thought of Megan caring about my day. Megan, an ex-popular girl who was basically a living 2018 Heather Chandler wanted to know how my day was? Gross.

    "... I-it was just... fine." I replied, cringing as I noticed my lisp and how I didn't pronounce the "J" right. I kicked myself in the back of the leg for being so stupid as to let it slip through.

    "That's good," She muttered, fiddling with the mirror until I was in her view. "Do you have good grades?"

    No. "Yes" I said lamely, hoping Megan wouldn't see right through my subpar lie. My grades were extreme shit, Spanish ranking the lowest at a D-. Mainly because I refused to speak. Mom doesn't care enough to check my grades and dad is 6 feet in the ground with no reception, so I don't have anyone to impress but myself, my stepdad who isn't ever home, and nosy stepsisters.

    "Cool"

    I looked back down at my phone and picked at a cracked bit in the corner, not knowing what else to focus on. I mean, It's not like anyone was texting me. My eye caught a tall building that Megan was driving past and I felt dread rising in my stomach. The therapy building. Ew. I waited until Megan's car stopped in the parking lot and I slowly tumbled out of the car, making almost no effort to leave. Megan drove away without a goodbye as I hopped onto the sidewalk, as usual. I opened the two huge glass doors in front of me and got inside the lobby elevator with a fairly large group of people, mostly business men and depressed teens. I guess I fit into the later. I hit the button for the 5th floor and leaned against the wall, avoiding contact with any of the people around me. As the bell dinged for each floor and more people emptied out of the cramped space that feeling of dread grew stronger, consuming my thoughts. Therapy only made my voice worse because I was trying to be so conscious of it, I didn't want to go but my stepdad forced me. He told me that I'm hard to understand and that speech impediments are "unattractive", like he'd know anything about being attractive. He looks like a cross-breed between a human a starfish, overly stiff and overly chunky. The elevator took a sudden jump upwards and I inhaled sharply as I was jostled by a lanky elbow and pulled from my cloud of thoughts, a cloud so dense that I hadn't realized I'd missed my floor. I leaned over to the tower of buttons on my right and pressed the button for the 5th floor once again, paying close attention to when the elevator hit my floor this time. I stepped out of the elevator and glanced at a clock above me. 3:55, 5 minutes before my appointment. As I walked towards the automatic steel doors I noticed a serious lack of patients and staff in the lobby, nobody was here. I kept walking and bumped into the door like an idiot, only noticing the "we're closed" sign once I backed away.

    "Damn..." I thought out loud, tapping my foot against the carpeted floor. I felt a buzz in my pocket and took out my phone, noticing that my mom had texted me.

Mom, 3:57 PM:
No therapyt today. Srry

    I sighed over-dramatically as I began texting Megan and asked her to come get me, letting her know that mom had fucked up. That's one thing we have in common, we both hate my mom's guts. She's a drunk, blubbering idiot and acts like she's still in kindergarten. My phone buzzed yet again in my hands, my eyebrows raising at the message on my screen.

Mom, 3:59 PM:
Picking u up. Told yr sister alreadfy

    I groaned and shoved the device into my pocket, walking as slow as I could muster towards the the elevator, but opted against it and took the stairs instead. Once I left the building I immediately spotted my mom's garbage car, complete with key marks all along the doors and dents littering the front. At least she's sober enough to drive today. As I opened the door I was hit with the immediate stench of smoke, lung cancer practically reeking from the seats. Trying my best to hide my disgust, I held my breath and got in the car.

    "Hi, Honey." My mom rasped between puffs of smoke, rolling down the window to drop her cigarette butt on the pavement.

    "H-hi." I replied, looking down at the dirty seats covered in soda stains and... other stains.

    "How was your day?" She continued, starting up the junky piece of shit she called the "womanizer". In the car's prime it had a hot pink wrap over it which eventually chipped off to reveal rusty metal that looked like it could give you tetanus just by looking at it.

    "Fine."

    She paused and waited for more of an answer, sighing when she didn't receive one.

    "You hardly talk anymore," she rambled, pulling out of the parking lot. "are you emo now or something?"

    "I-I'm... sorry." I said, shuffling my feet uncomfortably on the car floor. I hate talking to my mom.

    She grunted and turned around, focusing more on driving than on me. I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and opened up tumblr to no messages (as usual) and idly scrolled as my almost sober mother swerved to avoid potholes. The rest of the car ride was silent, other than the occasional cough from my mom.

    After we got home I immediately went to my room, dropping everything on the floor and plopping onto the bed. Soon after the all too familiar sound of a wine cork popping out of its bottle filled the silent house and I cringed, knowing what would come next. Soon, she'd get so drunk that she'd start walking around yelling at people, tripping over her own feet,  banging on walls, etc.. I hopped off my bed and ran to the kitchen, grabbing a jar of peanut butter and a spoon knowing that nobody was making dinner. I trudged back into my room and got back on the bed, placing my computer in my lap and keeping my jar of sticky goodness close to my thigh. I logged in and opened my browser, my long nails clicking against the keyboard as I typed into the search bar. No more than two letters in google recognized "tu" as "Tumblr.com", as usual. I scrolled through my dash, reblogging posts here and there when I felt a buzz in my pocket again. I was surprised to see that someone had commented on an Instagram post of mine. The post was nearly 3 weeks old and was a picture of me and my dad.

kaela.mar.44: Fatso

    I sighed. Kaela used to be my friend, and we only split up 3 months ago but it feels like forever. I told her that I thought I might have been gay, and she dropped me in fear of "being dragged into hell". That's when shit really hit the fan, she started insulting me publicly and humiliating me in class which included outing me to my whole school. Luckily most people are accepting, seeing as I live in Chicago, but it sure as hell didn't make things better. She was the first person I'd told, and it really took a chunk out of my self-esteem to watch her do that to me. Not even my shithole family knows. Since then things have only gotten worse, I've gained weight from stress eating and my voice has gotten shittier, but that's just how life works I guess. The only thing that confused me was the fact that Kaela decided to comment on a picture of me and my dad, whom she knew had passed away 2 years ago. That's when I felt my lip quiver and tears welling in my eyes, dripping agonizingly slow down my face. I pressed my hands against my forehead and squeezed my eyes shut, causing the tears come out even faster. A quiet sob escaped my mouth as I curled myself into a ball, screaming at myself in my head to stop crying. Eventually the tears began to cease, and I laid my back against the soft sheets that lined my bed. Turning my phone back on I stared blankly at my screen for a while, thinking of what to do next.

.lissa.benedetta.: @kaela.mar.44 thanks :)