I really didn't expect it to come to this. Micah always told me how much he loved me, how much he wanted to protect me. Then we moved in with the Silent. Stupid name, really. None of them could pull off silence for even a minute. They have these raging parties every night.
It's fun at first. Most of the Silent are runaways, staying there for a place to crash for a week or so, and then move on. That was how it was supposed to be with Micah and me. We'd stay there, because he knew the guy who ran the warehouse. I don't remember his name now. Jimmy, maybe. Or Jamie. Something like that.
Micah started to get really weird. He died his hair red. Not that I was complaining. It was a pretty color, sort of like a crayola. I liked it. But then he started dressing like the rest of them, in long black dusters and heavy combat boots. He always wore black, so I didn't really notice at first. Then he was into the leather/chains phase. It wierded me out, to tell the truth. Eventually he got me into it. I even got this cool contacts that bond to your eyes. They actually change the color. I regret that now. I always wear sunglasses. I'm blind in one eye. That happened right after we put them in, though. It dyed my iris and then burned my pupils into oblivion. Turned out they were illegal. We couldn't do anything about it. So now, I have to live with yellow werewolf eyes and a handicap.
After a while, I got sick of Micah's "new friends". I told him I wanted to leave. And you know what he did? He laughed at me. He told me they all loved me, like he did. He said they wanted to be my friends. Then he pushed me down the stairs. He said it was an accident. And I actually believed him at first.
So I changed, so I would look like them. I dyed my hair all these cool new colors, like green and orange streaks one week. Purple, yellow, and blue the next. Hair dye was expensive, I guess. I don't remember. We never actually purchased the boxes.
Soon, I got used to all the strange drugs they were using. I popped them like candy, and throw back a few drinks while I was at it. I got used to the bondage going on in the hallways. I used caffeine pills to stay up all night, and Micah told me how pretty I looked with dark circles under my eyes. I got used to coming down and finding some nameless guy, or girl, breathing in my face and pawing at me. Usually drunk. Micah didn't care. Most of the time.
Then Scott showed up. He was fun. The best thing about Scott was that he was almost never high. He was a total candy kid. He had all these clown balloon pants in neon colors and shiny plastic bracelets. He helped me make some. I really liked them. Micah didn't. He chewed them off my wrist and swallowed a bead before throwing them out. I told Scott they ripped by accident. I pierced his belly button for him. He bled a lot, and I kissed his stomach.
He kissed me. He didn't fall asleep while he was kissing me, either. He didn't put his hands around my throat or bite my shoulder or prick me with pins. We had sex that night, while Micah was having an orgy with maybe ten other people.
I don't think Micah even noticed I stopped going to his room and stayed in Scott's. He didn't notice, that is, until he walked in on us with a girl on each arm. It took a minute for him to recognize me, but when he did, he started screaming.
He pushed the girls away and started hitting Scott really hard. He was really drunk, and stoned out of his mind. I tried to pull him away, but he pushed me back, and I fell on one of the broken chairs on the floor. I almost died that night, or so Scott told me. I still have the scar.
Micah tried to help me up, but I started screaming at him, and then I passed out. All I remember was being glad I still had my jeans on, and then seeing Scott launch himself at Micah.
When I woke up, we were someplace else. Scott and I, that is. There was incredible pain in my abdomen. We were in a car, and Scott was looking out a window, chewing on his lower lip. He didn't know I was awake. I pulled my shirt up and looked at my stomach. It was wrapped in a bandage, blood seeping through.
"I was going to take you away anyway." I didn't realize Scott was talking to me, at first. "If you wanted to, I mean. I was going to take you far, far away." His eyes were rimmed in red, like he had been crying. Or drinking. I smelled vodka on his breath from my seat, and I just closed my eyes and fell back asleep.
The next time I woke up we were in the parking lot of a McDonald's. Scott sat next to me, a half eaten hamburger sitting between.
"What happened?" My own voice sounded so small to me, so hoarse and unused. Like I had been a mute for most of my life, and had just now learned how to speak.
Scott looked at me as if he didn't know me. He took my hand and kissed my knuckles, and turned back to the window. "We got away."
That was all he said. He started the engine and we kept driving. After that, we never talked about the Silent again.