Silent Pantomime

Chapter 13 | Our new game

Chapter 13🌌:

1137 comments.

That is 1137 people confessing about something, helping someone out, needing help themselves.

1137 people who needed to be honest.

"When I was fifteen I gave up my daughter for adoption because I wasn't ready to be a parent. I haven't told my current boyfriend and it's been ten years. We are trying for a baby, but I've had three miscarriages already. I just feel like the universe is punishing me for trying to have a second chance when I could easily have taken my first chance."

"I have autism and everyone makes fun of me for it. The doctor describes my brain as a kitchen with all of the parts there that I need, that are just like everybody else's, except the parts don't work how they should. As if the oven doesn't turn on properly, the microwave is broken and the blender is slow. I can't help it, yet everyone just sees me as some dumb kid that can't do anything."

"I really, really like this boy who is my best friend and he likes me back. Except I'm Christian and he is a Muslim, so both of our parents won't let us see each other because it is apparently against both of our religions. I don't know what to do, I can't live without him, I love him for him and not for his religion. But my parents just see it as black and white - I need help."

There were absolutely loads of people commenting, those were just the ones at the top of the page. As soon as I posted for people to confess their problems, they didn't stop rolling in, and it was only 8:58am. I had school in an hour and had to catch my bus at 9:30, but as I was already dressed I had plenty of time to read through the comments.

I read every individual word: people struggling from depression; battling eating disorders; having learning disabilities; facing racism; getting discriminated because of their gender; bullied for their sexualities; girls getting belittled. Every individual problem you could imagine was there. For most people it was the first time that they were actually speaking up about it, instead of being silent.

I was giving people back advice, and vice versa. I was helping. One girl was in her twenties and she still slept with a teddy bear at night. Apparently her dad had given it to her before he went off in the army as it had a countdown on it for when he could return home. She said how she slept with it because she couldn't wait to see him again, and she would never forget him even when she was in her deepest sleep. This girl's roommate in her university told everybody that she still slept with a teddy bear, despite everyone being adults, she still got bullied for it. Her dad had been M.I.A for three years and there was nothing she could do about it, except hug her bear from him.

I told her there was nothing I could do about what the people were saying about her, but she should realise there is nothing wrong with being sentimental and missing her dad. However, I promised I would sleep with my teddy bear from now on, one that I got from my mum before she passed away. She replied saying that she was really thankful for me not judging her, and that I really made her day.

Being good felt good.

I smiled at what she said - I made her day. She didn't even know me, but just because I said I'd do one tiny thing, she would think about me all day. A day can be a really long time.

Grinning, I hopped down the stairs as it was precisely 9am. I couldn't believe how great I'd felt, who knew all it took was a rant online and getting a letter to make me happy? Dad hadn't even came home yesterday which properly kept my spirits up - but considering that I went up the stairs angry at everything and then was coming downstairs as if I had hugged a million puppies - I was great. I saw the letter on the floor from the letter box and my grin grew. The attention was all on me, I wasn't invisible.

"Hey Hazel,
I played a fun game yesterday that reminded me of you. Have you ever played wink murder? There is the inspector, the murderer, the bomb and the victims. The murderer will wink at people causing them to die throughout the game - making them the victims. The point of the game is for the inspector to work out who the murderer is in just three guesses. But there is also a bomb who the murderer doesn't know about. Just sitting and waiting until they get winked at and then everybody dies, and the murderer loses. It's fun though, isn't it? Because in your life you seem to be the murderer in the game, just one look and people can drop dead. But as the game goes on there is less players so it is easier for the inspector to catch you out on what you are doing, and the bomb is just sitting and waiting for you to mess up.

Tick tock Hazel.

I've already played the inspector in the first round, I figured out who you really are. Just some attention seeking teenage girl, but you will do anything to get what you want, am I right? But now there are less players, as you have already knocked everyone else out of the game, so it is easier for the new inspector to work out that everything that has happened is all your fault. And I'm the bomb now Hazel, you try to kill me, I kill everyone.

Wanna play another round?

Of course you do. You have to. Do what I say I mean. Because we don't want anyone to find out our little secret now, do we? Imagine if tonight the floor is fire, when I ask you to dance with me, you have to say yes, even when it burns your feet.

This is fun.

Our new game."