Twice Again

They Don't Get It

A supply teacher. For most people, that's good news.

Not for me.

This one especially.

She hates me.

My TA steps out for a second. Great.

Now the teacher's going to-

"Evera, stop making such a big deal. Last time I saw you, you were still able to speak. Too much, in my opinion. There's no need to pretend to be silent. Let's not make a joke of all this."

There we go.

Everyone else stays silent. Of course.

They don't get it.

"Now, please turn off your computer. I don't understand how you managed to pull this off, but somehow you convinced your parents to buy you this device. Parents these days, so technologically-obsessed that they simply cannot deny their child access to every bit of technology their heart so desires."

I don't move. I can't.

"Knock it off, Evera. I am on the verge of sending you to the office. Would you want your beautiful little computer taken away? No, of course not. How else would you communicate? With your own voice? Of course not."

Sometimes I try to fight people.

After all, ALS doesn't affect everyone. I should try to educate.

But this she-demon is a lost cause.

The class is waiting for me to respond.

They don't get it.

Footsteps. My TA is back.

Thank God.

The teacher flashes a sweet smile at my TA.

No office after all.

Not that they would help.

They might not be rude but what can they do?

They don't get it.

They can't.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Stop making such a big deal of it, my dear."

That condescending witch. She made it into my dreams.

"I know I've heard you speak before. I will not be allowing you to use the restroom unless you use your own voice."

She's not talking to me? She's talking to someone else.

Someone else with a wheelchair and an eyegaze.

I know how they feel.

"Miss, his condition is real. It does not allow him as much freedom as you."

"Who asked you, sweetheart? I'm talking to this jester."

"No, miss. I cannot stand at the grave of someone you love and lecture them for being dead simply because they were alive previously. It's the same situation here. He's not a jester."

"How dare you!"

Chalk flies in my direction. It hits my chest.

It hurts.

A strangely large amount. More and more.

It's unbearable.

I'm awake now. My body hurts.

But more than that, my heart aches.

Of loneliness. Of hurt.

Of wishing someone would speak up for me in the same way.