The Silence Isn't So Bad.

My Problems

Hi. You're probably wondering who I am? Well, I used to be the type of girl who goes after she wants. Maybe not in an aggressive "go get 'em" way but I didn't give up. I only stopped if I came to a point were I absolutely despised the object of want or if I knew I'd never reach the goal of getting the object. But every so often there was something I knew I couldn't have but that I continued to want, badly. Such as to get out of this hell-hole and never look back. Or to be welcomed by people other than Ronnie. Or to-never mind... That one is best not to think about.

I'm also stubborn. Or I was 'till they broke me. Several people had called me an ass because of it. Which has to do with my 'problem' and how I'm sticking to not fixing it. I'm not the one who thinks it a problem. To me it's more of a savior. My name is Dempsey Wood. I am a mute.

I haven't said one word since I was 11 years old. I hardly even remember what my own voice sounds like. I remember the day so vividly.

*

I heard slamming and crashing coming from downstairs. My ears were soon filled with profanities that soon cut off into a strangled cry. I crept downstairs counting the steps.

What

Is

Going

On

Around

Here,

Why

Is

Mom

So

Angry?

...Holy

Crap...

I reached the last to steps and the living room came into view. Mom's favorite vase was lying in pieces near the wall and there was ripped paper every where. I gazed around, trying to find Mom. It only took me a couple seconds to pinpoint the pitiful sounds. It appeared that she traveled from the living room down the hall to her and Dad's room. She'd left a trail of shredded paper all the way to the bed. She lay there on her stomach crying loudly, her whole frame shaking.

"Mommy? Whats wrong?!" I had asked.

She tried her best to explain through the heart wrenching sobs the story of how her and Daddy met each other. She told me about the "bad guys" and how Papa arranged for her to marry Dad. It didn't take long for me to get the gist of what had happened.

Dad and Papa were working together to find the bad men. That's why Daddy was staying in New York. Yesterday they went right into the bad guys trap. Long story short, Mom had just received a letter from the NYPD telling us about my family's death.

*

Anyway, I'm perfectly happy with my mom. She doesn't understand my silence, the only one who does is Ronnie. But my mom loves me speaking, or not. Every now and then she would gets fed up with reading my notes and text instead of hearing my voice like she did with other people. But after a while she gets over it. Like everyone else.

I remember that horrid night, I just curled up on the bed with my mom and cried. We sobbed together until the sun went down the next night. Mom had asked me want I wanted to eat for dinner. I tried to respond, but when I opened my mouth, nothing came out.

I was young, immature, and depressed. So for a long time I thought the reason I wasn't able to speak was that I needed to mourn my loss this way. I realized almost a year later that my voice had just been hoarse that night. But then I got scared that I wouldn't be able to speak, so I didn't try to.

Ronnie is my best friend. He's also a guy and gay. I'd known him since I stopped talking, and he's been there for me ever since.

It was 6 years ago, a couple of weeks after we heard the news. I had just started going to school again that day. It wasn't long before I broke down. I was in lunch when it happened. I had looked out at the exact moment a red jeep drove by... the very model of my fathers car.

It triggered every bad emotion I'd been hiding, making me gasp. I ran outside in order to keep someone from seeing me. The tears poured down while I sat on the floor. A violent shudder ran through my body as I sobbed.

"What was that?" I heard someone ask. I opened my eyes just in time to see a boy, about one year older than me peak around the corner. I whimpered then looked back down to the floor. Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement before I realized the boy was now sliding down the wall to join me.

"Um... Hey, I'm Ronnie!" He said trying to cheer me up. When I didn't respond he gave me a weird look. "What? Are you taking a vow of silence?" He laughed then quieted when he saw me nodding slowly before I bursted into tears.

After that night Ronnie came to my house every day, trying to get me to speak. He was the one who finally got me to communicate by writing and text. By the time I was going into 7th grade and Ronnie was in 8th he'd come to peace with my silence(and he'd come out of "the closet"). Of course he never stopped hoping that one day I would speak again.

Quite often I make some kind of noise. It could be crying, screaming, whimpering, or moaning. And not in the sexy way, I'm talking pain. Whenever I made a noise and Ronnie's around he gets scared. He knows that I won't do anything that resembled speaking unless I'm really upset.

Same with emotions, if I'm upset I try to hold it in until I reach my breaking point. Such as with this girl Amber when I was a child. I always tried not to show her that she upset me but after 3 months of her emotionally abusing me, I snapped.

"Demps?" A familiar voice called. I already knew that my eyes changed when I heard Ronnie. They went from dead to somewhat happy. I ran down the stairs to greet him in the foyer. He picked me up and spun me around before settling me on my feet somewhat dizzy. I crossed my arms and gave him "the face". Ronnie had grown to know that look a long time ago. It was the look I reserved for when I was faking irateness. So basically I was pretending to be mad. Take that look and divide it by 5, thats "the face". But hey, don't judge, thats as menacing as I can be.

"Oh no! Dempsey please, don't look at my like that! Your eyes, they're-they're burning my soul. Demps!" He pleaded dramatically before he laughed.

"Come on, were going to be late!" He urged doing frantic little hand motions. I rolled my eyes and ran to the full length mirror in my moms room. She'd already gone to work so I got complete access to her bathroom. I checked my reflection as fast as I could before running back to Ronnie. I hate looking at myself, but that doesn't mean I'm going to look even more ugly and make people really hate me.

Ronnie and I drove to school, him being a chatter box, me being... me. We pulled into the parking lot about 10 minutes before the tardy bell was set to ring so I hugged him goodbye and ran to my locker. I took a deep breathe before I opened it, preparing myself. Instantly 3 notes fell from the shelf. Not surprisingly they each spouted off about how much they despised me.

Holding back tears I ripped the papers to shreds before I grabbed my things and walked to first period. Popping in my ear buds I prayed the bullies would leave me alone the rest of the day. This was one of the things I wanted, but knew I could never have.