Wordless Conversations // Phan (sequel to Bring Me Home)

25

I didn't think she'd tell me.

But the cold room was filled with noise.

Her silent words tumbled from her mouth and onto the whiteboard in her arms.

It was always there.

Her comfort blanket.

Her connection to the world.

I watched as the black pen moved across the surface of the white screen.

I can't watch that film.

She continued to write, using her arm to block my line of sight.

Then her sleeve erased the secrets she had spilled.

She stopped for a second, and wrote something down again.

And again, it was brushed away.

This happened countless times before the words were finally released from her throat.

My breath hitched as I read what the nib was scratching in blunt letters.

My dad abused me. Because I'm gay.

"What the hell. That's horrible! I'm so sorry you had to deal with that, Emma!"

Blood boiled hot pools of fire.

This wasn't okay,

Why was there so much hate against something so beautiful?

How could anyone hate love?

"I'm so sorry." I repeated. I couldn't seem to think of anything else to say.

This whole thing was so wrong, so messed up.

"Is he why you're mute?" I asked, softly.

Her head nodded yes.

My arms pulled her body into me closer for a hug, as I held her tight and spoke to her gently.

"It's okay, Emma. He's not here anymore. He can't hurt you."

I wouldn't let him.

"I'm here. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

Liar.

You're leaving in seven weeks.