Silent Voice - Zelkpvp Novel

Chapter 5 More about Mega

'I hide the fact that I want to die,'

slash

'I just want to leave and not say goodbye.'

slash

another slash

Blood was dripping on the floor, with gentle splats.

Mega looked at himself in the mirror, the pain in his eyes stronger than ever.

The bloody knife was in Mega's hands and he grasped the handle tightly, as he kept slashing.

It was a hard habit to quit.

It was addicting.

His blood was going down in streaks down his arms and hands, just like the tears down his face.

He didn't sob.

He just silently cried - so sick of his life.

Another slash.

And then a clang as the knife fell down on the floor.

Mega collapsed down onto the floor beside the knife.

He was a bloody and teary mess, but he didn't care.

Tears ran down his cheeks as he stared blankly at the wall.

He hugged his skinny knees and rested his chin on them.

He didn't want to live anymore, but he also didn't want to die.

Cutting himself, was Mega's attempt at feeling better, not ending it all.

The cutting was not even the issue, but rather the emotions underneath that the cutting helped Mega deal with.

He felt lonely and isolated from the rest of the world.

He just wanted a hug so badly.

If only Zelk was there...

Physical pain is easier to manage than emotional pain.

That is what Mega has learned so far.

He wanted to stop.

Many times.

He really did.

But he needed support, a loved one.

later that day

It was Thursday, so it was Mega's day to take the shift.

He worked on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.

Yes, he was mute, but the manager hired him for his politeness, great ability to serve customers without using his voice, and maybe (just maybe) his good looks.

Since he started working in the "Cup of Coffee" café, the number of customers doubled.

Mega was also often asked for his number, and he was a pretty cute guy.

Mysterious and silent.

Yes, Mega was very skinny and not too tall, but he had a great personality.

So, anyway, Mega got ready, grabbed his phone and keys (of course he never forgot his notebook and a pen in case some customers didn't know sign language), and walked out.

The cold stung his face, which made Mega pull his scarf up higher.

It was so rainy for the last few days, which was pretty rare for Canada, but Mega didn't really mind it.

Actually, the rain was probably his favourite weather.

He walked down past the hotel that was not far from his house, and into the café.

The familiar smell and the warmness of the room hugged him like an old friend.

Wow, he loved his job.

Although Mega hated any form of social interaction, he still loved his job and was excellent at it.

Today, as it was Thursday, he wasn't serving, but taking orders.

Mega sighed and put on his apron.

His shift lasted 5 hours, late into the night.

later

mega pov

'Late-night customers are always such a pain.'

When my shift ended, I was exhausted.

I could not wait to go home and spend my time doing I-don't-know-what.

'Ugh, this depression isn't allowing me to properly function.'

I changed, turned off the lights, and started walking back to my apartment.

This was scary.

Well yes, I like horror, but the memories of walking alone down a dark street still haunted me.

I walked faster.

I was very jumpy and every sound made me twitch.

This wasn't so unusual.

I pretend to be such a chill and not-caring-person, but in reality, I'm still scarred by my childhood.

When I used to come home late at night, trying to quietly enter my mother's house, trying to not make a single noise.

Her, passed on the couch, drunk.

Her catching me sometimes and almost beat me to death, screaming at me.

Telling me what a horrible child I was, trying to make me talk.//force me to speak, use my voice

This always angered her.

I cannot talk under pressure, and I refused to talk in front of her.

'Dumb mute. Useless mute. Worthless.'

Those words will remain with me forever.

They were etched into my very existence.

She told me to go ahead and end it, so she would finally be happy.

I almost did a few times.

That might not sound so terrible, but when it happens over and over again, you kinda become a different person, with a different perspective on life and yourself.

I was even thrown out of the house several times, or the opposite, locked up for days, without any food or water.

That was probably the reason I was so small.

Food in my house was rare, and I usually bought something, or my friends would feed me a little.

I am still not used to eating.

In my mother's house, I wasn't even allowed to have a phone, I bought mine on my own money a few years ago, secretly.

I have an old battered laptop, and that was the only reason my mother didn't throw it out.

It was my grandpa's old one, and she didn't believe it worked.

I walked down the street in silence, lost in thought.

There weren't many people at this late hour and the ones who were, I avoided as much as possible.

I pulled my scarf higher to shield myself from the cruel wind, which was so strong I was afraid would carry me away.

When I got home, I collapsed on my bed, exhausted.

I was so tired, I didn't even continue writing my poem, nor did I think about Jacob.

I fell into a void of deep, dreamless, sleep.

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