chNot A Word.
I will explain all medical terms and mental disease (for as far as they need explanation) in my author's note. All medical terms and symptoms and/or disorders are real. I have made nothing up.
Chapter
One.
Silence.
Inhaling.
The door slammed closed.
Exhaling.
The boy winced, flinched, pulled his knees to his chest and slammed his head down.
An icy, hysterical scream left his lips.
The lock switched.
The prey was caught.
Trapped.
There
was no escaping.
The iron bars blocked the sunlight. The icy white cold walls stared at him.
His heartbeat was the only thing he heard, once the echo of his scream in despair had died down. Twisting his body closer, tighter, more painful, he bit his lip.
Not another sound would leave his lips.
Not another sound would he grant those men. Those men looking at him, with their eyes so cold, so icy, so distant, so crazy.
They
would stare him down, again
and again
and again
and again
and --
He slowly moved his body back and forth to comfort himself.
There was no one else who could do it for him. There was no one else to wrap his arms around him and hum a soft, soft song.
The cold walls wouldn't help him.
Oh, no, they wouldn't.
They were there to trap him, to keep him from outside.
They
were there to keep him inside.
And they had ears.
And
mouths.
And they were going to kill him.
He swayed himself some more. Words danced and fell out of his lips, as he drew an unknown picture in the air. His hands moved like he didn't even know they were moving.
Fast.
Slow.
Fast.
Sloooooow.
Fastfastfast.
There
was no one in his prison but him.
There
was no one in this world but him.
His bare foot touched the ground suddenly, as he jumped up. Like an animal trapped, (trapped he was) his eyes flew left to right, upward to downward.
Right.
Left.
Up.
Down.
His auburn haired was plastered against his face.
His white clothes hung in disgustingly grey strokes of ripped apart clothing down his shoulders.
There was no one to save him.
But even so, he wasn't scared.
Because, after all, he was the one that lost his mind.
(-X-: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :-X-)
"So, that's the boy, huh?" the man behind the thick glass asked, watching the pale, starved boy on the bed. The rigid position he was in could not be healthy.
The woman next to him nodded.
"That's him already. Special case he got."
The girl eyed the young man inside the sheltered prison.
"Better be. To have me abandon my house like that," the glassed man huffed.
"Look, I'm sorry Ohtori-senpai. I couldn't do anything else. You're the only one who might even have the slightest chance of getting him back to normal," she flipped her brown hair back, her brown eyes staring at the boy.
Dark eyes narrowed a bit, peeking at the boy, now as still and motionless as a statue. The emotionless Ohtori felt a small shiver down his spine at the sight of the boy.
There was something about that boy. Something… off.
"And why do you all of sudden care so much, Hoshakuji-san? I don't recall you doing that a lot," he answered sarcastically.
"That's because… Here," she handed him over some photos.
The stoic neurologist looked down at it, his eyes widened for a second, so slight only he knew he even reacted.
Captured on the pictures was a man in a hospital bed, his eye ripped, bruises everywhere. His arm was twisted in an unnatural way, his right leg missing. Dried blood was all over him. The man seriously doubted if he even was alive anymore.
"Those look rather painful," he answered without a shred of emotion.
"86 stitches. That man can be happy he still lives. He attacked him, for seemingly no reason at all."
"Injections, probably. Guy's a nurse, right? Psychos don't like nurses. Universal rule," he shrugged, smashing the pictures on a table.
"Ohtori-senpai! That man was almost dead! Could you at least be a little more serious?!" her eyes spoke of absolute horror.
"I am, Hoshakuji-san. I am so serious, it becomes painful. So serious the seriousness is dripping from every inch of my serious words," he replied, a sarcastic, yet diplomatic smile upon his face.
"I know you don't care about that boy, but look, if you don't heal him, they'll chain him to a bed and inject every disgusting, calming liquid they can find into his body," the girl argued, making grand gestures.
"And I care because?"
He quirked his eyebrow. It was truly a mystery to the normal clever man.
"That boy's only twenty-four," her eyes softened with pure empathy.
"Was that supposed to convince me?" he replied sarcastically.
"Just look at his case, okay? You're the only one who might have a chance," Hoshakuji insisted.
"Maybe I don't even want to have a chance," the doctor replied.
"Ohtori-senpai!"
"I'll look at his file, and then decide whether I-"
"Oh, but you want to take his case, Ohtori-senpai," a wicked grin came upon the usually fairly innocent girl's face.
His senses immediately jumped on their super concentrated mode, as he watched the sudden change of the girl before him.
"And why is that, Hoshakuji-san?" the Ohtori rose his head a bit, looking down upon her, a look of utter control in his eyes.
The air built up with tenseness, thick enough to be cut.
"Because I've heard he also knows more of the disappearance of a certain Suoh Tama-"
She yelped when her back hit the wall painfully. Rage danced in the dark haired boy's eyes. His lips were pressed against each other, his elbow pushing up her chin, cutting of her air supply. Her back scraped against the wall.
Her eyes were filled with fear and panic.
"If you ever mention his name again, I swear I will slit your throat when you sleep," he hissed between clenched teeth.
"O-Ohtori-s-senpai. I-I…" she gulped, furiously trying to get his arm away from her.
"I swear," he hissed again. "You don't know anything about Tamaki, nor about me. Meddle into my business again, and I swear to God you'll curse him for creating human kind."
He removed his arm in one quick movement, the girl falling towards the ground like the cup he dropped this morning. Without another glance, he turned around and left, slamming the door closed behind him.
The young woman slowly got back on her feet, still heavily panting. A small, soft smile played upon her red lips.
Without a word, she grabbed her cell phone flipping it open.
"Hello?" a deep voice from the other line asked.
"He's taking the job," the brunette smiled.
(-X-: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :-X-)
The door opened.
Inhale.
Even so, the man was still trapped.
Trapped
inside.
Trapped outside.
He couldn't run far enough anyway.
Exhale.
This world was his prison and he had chosen for a better one.
"Hello, Kaoru," the newcomer said, as he silently took a chair in the corner of the room and placed it before the bed.
The man didn't react. His eyes were fixed upon an unknown point in the distance. He didn't blink.
His chest slowly rising up and down was the only indication he was alive.
And so was the continuingly, fast swaying back and forth of his body.
Silence.
Silence.
Not
a word.
He wouldn't tell him a
Single
Word.
The doctor looked at the man's face for a few more moments, waiting for any kind of reaction. When his waiting was in vain, he opened his mouth again.
"Hello. My name is Kyouya Ohtori. You may call me Dr. Ohtori," he smiled friendly.
No reaction.
Inhaled.
Exhaled.
Up.
Down.
Stare.
The
walls mercilessly stared back.
The
doctor crossed his right leg over his left one.
The patient
crossed his right leg over his left one.
"So, Kaoru," Kyouya shifted --
-- Kaoru immediately shifted as well.
"I heard you aren't eating."
The boy stared past him. His hands were clutched around the bed, continuing his sways, back and forth, back and forth, ignoring the doctor.
"Not that I can really blame you, though," the Ohtori chuckled. "I know what the food here is like. I think the people who don't eat that rubbish are the sanest people there are."
Inhaling.
Exhaling.
Silence.
"I've also heard about what you did to that guy. You don't like it if people touch you, do you?"
Inhaling.
Exhaling.
Staring.
Silence.
Kyouya
shifted his left shoulder thoughtlessly.
Kaoru shifted his left
shoulder.
"I know you must've been scared. Really scared for you to do to that man what you've done. But, Kaoru, here you are safe."
Blink.
The Ohtori held his breath as the boy shifted every so slightly, his eyes unclouded for a mere second.
"Now, Kaoru. Would you mind if I take your blood pressure? I'm concerned about your health," the doctor looked at the patient before him calmly.
Inhaling.
Exhaling.
Staring.
No reaction. Not a word. The swaying continued.
Back.
Forth.
Back.
Silence.
"Kaoru, that means I will have to touch you, do you understand that? I do not intend to harm you, but I will have to touch your arm. Is that okay with you?" Kyouya looked at the younger man.
Inhaling.
Exhaling.
Staring.
Not a word.
Back.
Forth.
"Okay. Since you're staying silent, I will assume I can. If you do not want me to touch you, I need you to protest now," he pressed.
Inhaling.
Exhaling.
Staring.
The boy remained silent.
The
doctor took a deep breath, trying to shake off the weird feeling in
his stomach. He put the earpieces of his manual sphygmomanometer in
his ears.
Kaoru made a movement towards his ears, as if he was
putting in ear pieces as well.
Slowly,
he reached out for the boy's arm,
his sphygmomanometer
in his other hand.
Kaoru lifted his hand up as well, as if he was
reaching out.
An
inch before the still rigid positioned, motionless boy's arm his
hand stopped.
Kaoru's
hand stopped.
"Kaoru," he said calmly and clearly. "I'm going to touch you now."
Inhaling.
Exhaling.
The boy didn't even flinch.
Kyouya took one last breath and laid his hand slowly upon the younger man's arm. He held it in the same position for a few moments, almost to have the boy get used to the fingers wrapped carefully around his arm.
No reaction.
He lifted the younger boy's arm up cautiously.
No reaction.
Just as slow as before, he wrapped the cuff around his upper arm and pressed the diaphragm right under his elbow, on the inside of his arm.
"I'm going to press this now and you'll feel pressure on your arm," the Ohtori explained, "Don't worry, it won't hurt and it will be over soon."
Inhaling.
Exhaling.
Not a word left the boy's lips, but he moved his lips the exact same way.
His
eyes still fixed upon the patient, Kyouya pressed the inflation
bulb.
Kaoru's hand clenched shut.
The cuff automatically wrapped closer around the patient's arm.
Kyouya mentally braced himself for the scream, sudden outburst or violent behaviour that this may cause.
But everything stayed out. The boy remained silent, staring at the same point at the white walls. The Ohtori let out a small breath of relief.
Something was wrong with this boy.
And he was not speaking about his mental state.
"Your blood-pressure is rather low, Kaoru," the doctor told him. "You have to promise me that you'll start drinking again, Kaoru. And eating too. It's very important. I can't do much for your hypotension, but if you'd eat, I could add some sodium to your food and that'll help at least a bit. Do you understand me?"
Inhaling.
Exhaling.
He repeated the doctor's words noiselessly.
Staring.
"You're breathing is slower then usual," the doctor continued, as he laid his sphygmomanometer away.
He looked straight into the eyes of the boy, who made no sign that he was aware of his presence at all and slowly said: "Kaoru. As it is now, everything indicatives that you are in great shock and that you are scared."
His hand was still lifting the boy's arm up.
The man was still staring right through him.
"I will repeat this again, Kaoru," the doctor said firmly. "Here, you are safe. Safe. I am only here to help you. I have no ill intentions toward you. I am a doctor and you are my patient. Therefore, I shall make you better."
The boy twitched ever so slightly.
"Relax, Kaoru, no one here wants to hurt you. You are protected by these walls. You are protected by everyone here. You are safe," he continued, observing the auburn haired man's reaction.
There was none.
His dark eyes flew to his arm. Slowly, he let his fingers come untangled from it, letting go of the fragile arm.
With a painful noise the arm slumped down fast and landed on his leg. The Ohtori frowned.
"Now, that," he looked at the patient, "is not what should happen."
Still no reaction.
"You
know…"
Kyouya said, leaning back.
The
golden-eyed boy leaned back as well.
"If you're catatonic, your arm should have stayed like it was, Kaoru. It has this wax-like functioning, just as we can see with catalepsy –which your file says you have too- which means your arm won't move until I push it back," the doctor mused out loud.
"Either your arm stay in the same position, like I move the arm of a doll and it stays there, or you would've fought so hard I would've been unable to lift your arm at all."
"But you, Kaoru," the doctor looked at his patient firmly, "did neither of that."
Back.
Forth.
Back.Forth.Back.Forth.
Backforthbackforthbackforth. The swaying increased in speed.
The doctor decided to change subject before the man would lose control and he would end up in the hospital too.
"So, Kaoru, what's your favourite food?" he smiled friendly.
The man continued swaying, breathing slowly and staring before him.
"Or are you the kind to go for the desserts immediately?" he laughed softly.
The room stayed silent.
"Cake, maybe?" he rambled on.
The boy swallowed thickly. Noiselessly he mouthed 'cake'.
"Cake, huh?" Kyouya smiled.
The boy ignored him once more.
"Well,
then, if you're a good boy, maybe I shall give you some cake,"
the Ohtori smiled, as he stood up.
The patient stood up as well.
Kyouya's smile was friendly, one with no intention of harm.
"I will be leaving now, Kaoru. See you tomorrow," he continued smiling.
Kaoru stared at him, with no expression at all. Without a sound he mouthed 'see you tomorrow'.
Kyouya collected his stuff and walked past the boy. Kaoru continued staring at the wall.
The door closed softly.
"Tomorrow," Kaoru mouthed soundlessly. "Kyouya."
(-X-: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :-X-)
The doctor sighed.
"And?" Renge asked
"And?" Kyouya repeated.
"And? Did he say anything? Did you find out something?" she asked excitedly.
"He's brain damaged. He's a retard. What else is there to notice?" Kyouya shrugged.
"You mean you've gotten nothing out of him?" she asked again.
"Nope. Nothing. He thinks the walls are interesting and smells like a dead fish."
"Senpai… You shouldn't be so sarcastic," she admonished him once more.
"I'm not sarcastic, Renge-chan," he sighed deeply.
His eyes lit up.
"Oh! Wait – I found something out! Something really awesome!" he said.
"Yes, yes?" the woman awaited in anticipation.
"He likes cake!" the doctor exclaimed.
Renge sighed again.
"As I said, senpai, I think you should work on that bitter attitude of yours," she said.
He pressed the file on which Kaoru's name was written against his chest.
"He really does, though. Anyways – Don't worry, I'll take the case, since obviously you'll go hang yourself if I don't. I'm going home now, see you tomorrow."
The doctor made his way past her, the girl's brown eyes fixed upon his back.
"See you tomorrow, doctor!" she waved.
The Ohtori sighed and left the building.
(-X-: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :-X-)
Listlessly, Kyouya pushed open the door, his brief case in his other hand, the file of Kaoru buried under a dozen of other files. The door fell back into its lock when he stepped inside, looking around.
"Haruhi, I'm home," he said, raising his voice ever so slightly.
"Yes, and you are late!" the admonishing voice immediately replied.
A soft smile came upon his face. He laid his brief case on the table and clicked it open again, without answering her.
"Oh, no… I know that sound! You stay away that late and dare to bring your work here?" the woman uttered furiously.
"Ah, sorry, sorry, Haruhi… I just got this case and it's so weird," he sighed.
Haruhi kicked the kitchen door open, a plate of food balancing on each of her hands. She walked towards the table and put them down, looking up at her roommate.
"Weird?" she repeated. "Isn't that why they are there in the first place, 'cause they're weird?"
"Yeah, I know. But it's like… he's weird at being weird…" Kyouya mused out loud.
Haruhi's eyes softened a bit. It wasn't usual for Kyouya to actually be this in thought about one of his patients, so she had the feeling something must be really off.
"What does he do then?" she smiled, walking back to get them some cutlery.
"It's just – You see, he has been in mental institutes for 12 years now. He has been diagnosed with at least 24 different disorders: catalepsy, manic depression, post-traumatic stress, autism, schizophrenia with catatonia, … You name it and he's probably got it. Now, that alone is," he frowned in confusion, trying to find the right word, "extraordinary to say at least. If you ask my opinion, it's downright impossible. How can he have that many disorders? What kind of frigging mess would his brain be if that was the case?"
Haruhi gave him his knife and fork and sat down in her chair, nodding and eating.
"You think they diagnosed him wrong?" she asked.
"I don't know," Kyouya shrugged. "And then today, he did this off thing."
"Off-thing?" she repeated.
"Yes. You see, he has catatonia. Basically, that means they're something wrong with your motor functions. Your brain doesn't give the right orders anymore. So, as a result they have this wax-like body position. Which means if I lift their arm up, they'll sit there for hours with their arm up like I put it, then suddenly go into another position and remain like that for hours."
Haruhi nodded.
"But?" she asked.
"But he didn't. From the moment I let go of his arm, it slumped back," Kyouya's frown deepened.
"Which means?" Haruhi pressed.
"That he doesn't have catatonia…" Kyouya muttered.
"What's so weird about one wrong diagnosis?" Haruhi shrugged. "Everyone makes mistakes."
"I know. It's just… off. I can't explain it. That boy is just off," Kyouya said.
"I see. Don't worry too much. Knowing you, you'll figure it out in no time," Haruhi smiled.
Kyouya nodded absently.
"Oh, you know what Kanako did today, at work?" Haruhi changed the subject smoothly. "Ha, it was so funny."
Kyouya gave her a soft smile, shove his brief case and the case of Kaoru aside and listened to Haruhi's story about her colleague. His eyes wandered to the untouched file of the mysterious man every so often, but he forced himself to devote his attention back to his roommate.
After what must've been a bit more then an hour, the conversation slowly died down and Haruhi told him she would go off to sleep. He simply nodded and wished her a stoic goodnight, which she answered with an equally serious 'don't drown yourself in your work'.
The door closed and Kyouya sighed.
"Now, let me take a closer look at your mind, Kaoru," he sighed to himself and grabbed the file.
Slowly he walked to his bedroom, kicking the door open. Closing it behind him softly, he smashed the papers on his desk. He sat down and his eyes flew over the first paper.
Manic
depression.
Bipolar personality disorder.
Post-traumatic
stress.
Schizophrenia with
catatonic features.
Autism.
Catalepsy.
Kyouya sighed heavily. He rubbed his forehead, gave the ceiling a serious look and looked back to the papers.
The list mercilessly continued.
Obsessive-compulsive
disorder.
Borderline personality disorder.
Paranoid personality
disorder.
Somatization
disorder.
"Doesn't eat, doesn't speak, doesn't wash, doesn't know I'm there, doesn't have catatonia," Kyouya mumbled to himself.
He sighed another time, standing up to get himself a cup of coffee. Back in his room, he picked the papers up once again.
"Just how is that boy connected to Tamaki?" he muttered to the walls. "There's no way… No way…"
He clenched his eyes shut, blocking out old memories. He took another deep breath.
"Anyway," he told himself. "I need to get him talking. Soon."
Cup after cup was emptied, paper after paper reread.
At 5 AM exhaustion hit and the doctor fell asleep on his desk, his hands resting upon the papers.
That night, Kyouya Ohtori dreamed about a silent boy staring at the lonely, white walls of his prison, with no one in the world to protect him. That night, for the first time since his friend has disappeared, he felt a tiny spark of hope.
If only that boy would say a word.
(-X-: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :-X-)
Medical explanations:
The way Kaoru repeats what Kyouya says and involuntary imitates his movements are both signs of catatonia, a disorder mentioned earlier. Other signs of catatonia are explained in the story itself.
A sphygmomanometer is a device used for measuring blood pressure.
Breathing slower then normal is a sign of catalepsy.
Being completely oblivious to any stimulation from the world outside is a sign of multiple disorders mentioned in the story, such as catalepsy, autism, catatonia, …
The swaying mentioned, drawing in the air and other seemingly purposeless movements are symptoms of multiple disorders, such as catatonia, obsessive-compulsive disorder, autism, …
Not all disorders he suffers from are mentioned. There may be more. There may be more 'wrong' ones.
Signs and symptoms of other disorders will be mentioned as the story unfolds.
Jazy's rant:
Okay! So this is a huuuuuuuuge project I'll be working on! Please review! I wanted to do something completely different from any of the stories written here already! :D! I hope it worked out…
I'm trying to be as correct as possible. And in the first few chapters there won't be any sign of romance whatsoever, I'm afraid.
This story is based upon the film "Don't say a word". However, I almost changed whole the plot/scenes and stuff. It's just the main idea that's the same.
Please review. Any criticism is seriously appreciated. Anything you want to say, is something I want to hear.
Thanks to Perdendosi, for being my awesome Beta. I love you, girl, really. So, give her a chocolate for providing you a chapter without any spelling mistakes or grammar-weirdness.
- Jazy.