Silence
By Katia-chan
A/N: This idea popped into my head whilest I was surrounded by a lot of over chlorinated water, so don't blame me for it's strangeness. This idea has been sort of making it's presence known, but never come into the exact form of the story that it's going to be in, so forbive me if it's a little strange. Everybody say hello to Maria Michella!...which I probably spelled wrong, she's my friend and she's new on ff.net. Hey nic!
She's going to think I'm a complete nutcase for writing this, but no, I haven't gone more crazy then I already am.
Enjoy this!
()()()()()()()()())()
Silence, The act of being reduced to silence, mute, Quiet. Silence is one of the most beautiful things I have ever experienced. It's this sort of dark, but not the scary dark that you feel when you're stuck, nope, it's a comforting shielding darkness, like when you're hiding under the covers.
I love everything to do with silence, which is probably one of the reasons I haven't spoken in at least 3 years.
It's sort of become a trial for me, see how long I can keep to myself. I always thought, when I was younger that it would be horrible, but it suits me quite nicely. And anyway, who do I have to talk to anyway. My father isn't home, and I don't even think my friends remember that I existed. It doesn't bother me though, I can keep to myself, and no one notices. The teachers are beginning to get a little worried I think. Ok, a lot worried, for the last 3 years I've been going to the school counselor every day for an hour and a half. I'm supposed to sort out my issues and be back to a talkative child with many friends, medioker grades and a happy family. It makes me laugh hysterically when they talk about me. They think, because I don't talk, that I am stupid, or deaf or something. I can laugh at them, I'm not stupid, or deaf, or anything. A lot think I've gone insane. I haven't, just yet. I don't think about the time I stopped speaking. I keep that memory locked in the back corner in my mind where even my own thoughts don't go, and we seem to get along fine.
I'm sitting on my bed now, just finishing my geometry homework when I hear my father call. My father? He hasn't been home for 6 months.wonder why he's home so early. I slam the book shut, the devils subject can wait till later.
I run down the stairs. My father is standing in the kitchen, he has a nice tan, from Egypt, and his hands were very rough. He must've done a lot of digging. I walked over and gave him a hug. For a dad that's never home, he's a pretty good guy. Since he's never there when he comes home we get on very well. He holds me at arms length and looks me over. I think it's the archiologist in him, because it's not the look of a father appraising his son, it's the look of an archiologist discovering something very interesting. I give him a little smile.
"Hello Ryou, how've you been?" I give him another little grin and instead of grinning back he sighs.
"So, still not speaking?" I shake my head a little.
"Ryou, I wish you would stop this. I want you to be happy, and healthy, and a normal kid." Normal? He didn't think this was normal? A 17 year old, short, skinny, pale and silent. Hmmm, something must be wrong with his sense of normal. To appease him I give him a little nod, but he's not convinced.
"Will you say something? I miss hearing you talk." I simply stare at him.
"Come on Ryou, say something, shout, yell, sing, chant, just do something!" he's upset. I think he takes my silence as a sign of bad parenting. That'd be a good thing to blame it on, he isn't a parent. He's a friend that stops by every once in a while and makes sure I'm still alive and paying the bills. Despite how much I want to say something, to aleaviate his pain at his failed son I can't. I guess it's because I still really don't want to. Life is so much simpler if you listen instead of talking. He sighs again and rubs his eyes, but he can't hide the tears from me. I give his hand a little squeeze, hoping to take his mind off the topic, but he looks down at me, a sad look in his eyes.
"Ryou, I really hate to have to do this," Oh dear, he's going to put me in the special ed classes, he's going to make my sessions with the guidance counselor 3 hours. "I'm going to send you to get some help." I stare at him, what does he mean? I stare at him, confused.
"I'm sending you to a temporary institution." What?! He's putting me in the luney bin! Oh, this is definitely not good. I shake my head vigorously and he gives me this stupid sad look that I can see through.
"I'm sorry, I didn't want to do this, but it's been 3 years, and you haven't spoken a word. Your teachers are worried, and so am I. This is not normal." No shit this wasn't normal. Did he think it was normal to send your son to the asylum? Because that's what it was, he called it help, but it was an asylum.
I decided then and there that I wasn't going.
"We have to leave right now, I called the institution and they're hear, I had hoped you would be talking, and that we could have dinner, but I want you well son, I'm sorry." The door opened and 2 people came in. They were burly looking men who, apaun locking me in their sights, lunged at me and grabbed me. I have never fought so hard. They had each grabbed an arm and I kicked out at them. I got one in the knee and he dropped my arm. I tried to role out of the other man't grip. He grabbed tighter, until I planted my foot between his legs. He cried out in pain and I started to run, but the first guy jumped me, pinning me to the ground on my back. His weight on my chest was making it extremely difficult to breathe. He wrestles my arm from between us, and before I can think he's injected something into the crook of my elbow.
Instantly the world begins to go fuzzy. I stop fighting, because I can't even lift my arms. Wow, whatever drug that was was really strong. I am vaguely aware of them lifting me off the ground and onto a stretcher. For a moment my father's face looms above me, with that stupid simpering sadness. I don't have much energy left from whatever they used, but I gathered the last of it and spit in his face.
He draws back and they wheel me out to an ambulance. Once I'm in there I sort of slip deeper into confusion, I don't know where I am, and then it all goes black.
As my head began to clear I heard muffled voices around me. I tried to blink, failed and just lay still, letting my brain adjust to where I was. At my first movement the voices stopped. I opened my eyes slowly and looked around, I was lying on a metal bed, with white sheets and White pillows, in a white room.
"About time you woke up." I jumped and looked over. To my astonishment (I thought I was seeing things. The boy who sat on the bed next to me seemed to be my twin. His eyes were a little lighter, and harder then my own, and his hair looked silver instead of white. He was tanned, lean, dressed in baggy dark blue jeans and a black sweatshirt. Next to him sat another boy, his blond hair surrounding a tan face with eyes that looked like flowers. Lilac, I decided. He was wearing tight black jeans and a purple muscle shirt. His arms were adorned with thick gold bracelets and the single earing that hung from one ear looked heavy.
I wanted to find out where I was.
"I'm Bakura," the twin offered his hand, which I took a little hesitantly. "And this is Malik, resident nutcases."
"Bakura, that doesn't even begin to sum it up." The blond boy's eyes glittered with laughter, but Bakura must've noticed my confused looks around.
"Shut up Malik, Ryou,," I was startled that he knew my name. Bakura must've caught my look because he pointed at the door. A piece of paper stuck there with tape said "Bakura, Ryou."
"I'm your room mate, they'll tell you to pretend it's camp, but it's not, it's hell." I nodded, after being tackled, drugged and left in an asylum by my father I had already guessed I wasn't in for a fun time. He gave me an appraising look that almost EXACTLY matched my fathers.
"So, planning on saying anything?" I shook my head. Malik nodded, looking sadly at me.
"He's like Isis Bakura." Bakura looked sadly at me. I was confused, who was Isis.
"She's my sister, and she doesn't talk either." I nodded, wanting to meet another one like me.
"So, that's what you're in for." Bakura said, as if just affirming a fact. I raised my brows at him, asking what he'd done to get sent to hell.
He roled up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal lines of cuts.
"I'm sort of typical, but they thought I needed to be in here." I gestured at Malik.
"Killed someone." He said softly. I was shocked. This boy, a killer?
"No, it's not what you think, I'm not a killer, I just one night lost control, and killed my father. I've been over the urge to do it again, it made me sick after I did it, but they still think I'm a danger to society so they won't let me out. Which is fine with me, because now I can see Isis every day." He got a fond look on his face and I smiled a little. It was nice to see that look.
There was a moment's pause when him and Bakura both fel silent, and then both of them smiled.
"Well, speak of the devil." I turned to the door to see a girl standing there. She looked as if she'd had a tan once, but it had a pale look to it. Her glossy black hair hung around her face, which was very thin, and she was rocking slightly. Bakura jumped off his bed and went and hugged her, pushing hair out of her face. This was clearly Isis, and unlike me, it was clear that she hadn't locked the memory away. It haunted her. I could see it in her eyes and the timid way she stood. She gave Bakura a weak smile and walked in the room. She stood by Malik, running her fingers through his hair. He pulled her down so she sat on his lap and he fastened his arms around her waist.
"Isis, this is Ryou, he's Bakura's new roommate, doesn't talk either." She looked at me and I felt understanding. She gave me a jealous look, and I could almost read her thoughts in her face /You managed to hide it, you rise, I fall/ It creeped me out, and I could tell from just this first meeting with these 3 people that this was going to be an interesting stay.
()()()()()()()()()
A/N: Ok, strange, but I hope yall like it. I think it turned out ok, but it's not going to get edited for a little while, I know I say that about everything, but I really mean it for this one, I do want to edit it, but I want to post it tonight and I have to get to hw and bed. Happy Sunday!
TTFN
Katia-chan
By Katia-chan
A/N: This idea popped into my head whilest I was surrounded by a lot of over chlorinated water, so don't blame me for it's strangeness. This idea has been sort of making it's presence known, but never come into the exact form of the story that it's going to be in, so forbive me if it's a little strange. Everybody say hello to Maria Michella!...which I probably spelled wrong, she's my friend and she's new on ff.net. Hey nic!
She's going to think I'm a complete nutcase for writing this, but no, I haven't gone more crazy then I already am.
Enjoy this!
()()()()()()()()())()
Silence, The act of being reduced to silence, mute, Quiet. Silence is one of the most beautiful things I have ever experienced. It's this sort of dark, but not the scary dark that you feel when you're stuck, nope, it's a comforting shielding darkness, like when you're hiding under the covers.
I love everything to do with silence, which is probably one of the reasons I haven't spoken in at least 3 years.
It's sort of become a trial for me, see how long I can keep to myself. I always thought, when I was younger that it would be horrible, but it suits me quite nicely. And anyway, who do I have to talk to anyway. My father isn't home, and I don't even think my friends remember that I existed. It doesn't bother me though, I can keep to myself, and no one notices. The teachers are beginning to get a little worried I think. Ok, a lot worried, for the last 3 years I've been going to the school counselor every day for an hour and a half. I'm supposed to sort out my issues and be back to a talkative child with many friends, medioker grades and a happy family. It makes me laugh hysterically when they talk about me. They think, because I don't talk, that I am stupid, or deaf or something. I can laugh at them, I'm not stupid, or deaf, or anything. A lot think I've gone insane. I haven't, just yet. I don't think about the time I stopped speaking. I keep that memory locked in the back corner in my mind where even my own thoughts don't go, and we seem to get along fine.
I'm sitting on my bed now, just finishing my geometry homework when I hear my father call. My father? He hasn't been home for 6 months.wonder why he's home so early. I slam the book shut, the devils subject can wait till later.
I run down the stairs. My father is standing in the kitchen, he has a nice tan, from Egypt, and his hands were very rough. He must've done a lot of digging. I walked over and gave him a hug. For a dad that's never home, he's a pretty good guy. Since he's never there when he comes home we get on very well. He holds me at arms length and looks me over. I think it's the archiologist in him, because it's not the look of a father appraising his son, it's the look of an archiologist discovering something very interesting. I give him a little smile.
"Hello Ryou, how've you been?" I give him another little grin and instead of grinning back he sighs.
"So, still not speaking?" I shake my head a little.
"Ryou, I wish you would stop this. I want you to be happy, and healthy, and a normal kid." Normal? He didn't think this was normal? A 17 year old, short, skinny, pale and silent. Hmmm, something must be wrong with his sense of normal. To appease him I give him a little nod, but he's not convinced.
"Will you say something? I miss hearing you talk." I simply stare at him.
"Come on Ryou, say something, shout, yell, sing, chant, just do something!" he's upset. I think he takes my silence as a sign of bad parenting. That'd be a good thing to blame it on, he isn't a parent. He's a friend that stops by every once in a while and makes sure I'm still alive and paying the bills. Despite how much I want to say something, to aleaviate his pain at his failed son I can't. I guess it's because I still really don't want to. Life is so much simpler if you listen instead of talking. He sighs again and rubs his eyes, but he can't hide the tears from me. I give his hand a little squeeze, hoping to take his mind off the topic, but he looks down at me, a sad look in his eyes.
"Ryou, I really hate to have to do this," Oh dear, he's going to put me in the special ed classes, he's going to make my sessions with the guidance counselor 3 hours. "I'm going to send you to get some help." I stare at him, what does he mean? I stare at him, confused.
"I'm sending you to a temporary institution." What?! He's putting me in the luney bin! Oh, this is definitely not good. I shake my head vigorously and he gives me this stupid sad look that I can see through.
"I'm sorry, I didn't want to do this, but it's been 3 years, and you haven't spoken a word. Your teachers are worried, and so am I. This is not normal." No shit this wasn't normal. Did he think it was normal to send your son to the asylum? Because that's what it was, he called it help, but it was an asylum.
I decided then and there that I wasn't going.
"We have to leave right now, I called the institution and they're hear, I had hoped you would be talking, and that we could have dinner, but I want you well son, I'm sorry." The door opened and 2 people came in. They were burly looking men who, apaun locking me in their sights, lunged at me and grabbed me. I have never fought so hard. They had each grabbed an arm and I kicked out at them. I got one in the knee and he dropped my arm. I tried to role out of the other man't grip. He grabbed tighter, until I planted my foot between his legs. He cried out in pain and I started to run, but the first guy jumped me, pinning me to the ground on my back. His weight on my chest was making it extremely difficult to breathe. He wrestles my arm from between us, and before I can think he's injected something into the crook of my elbow.
Instantly the world begins to go fuzzy. I stop fighting, because I can't even lift my arms. Wow, whatever drug that was was really strong. I am vaguely aware of them lifting me off the ground and onto a stretcher. For a moment my father's face looms above me, with that stupid simpering sadness. I don't have much energy left from whatever they used, but I gathered the last of it and spit in his face.
He draws back and they wheel me out to an ambulance. Once I'm in there I sort of slip deeper into confusion, I don't know where I am, and then it all goes black.
As my head began to clear I heard muffled voices around me. I tried to blink, failed and just lay still, letting my brain adjust to where I was. At my first movement the voices stopped. I opened my eyes slowly and looked around, I was lying on a metal bed, with white sheets and White pillows, in a white room.
"About time you woke up." I jumped and looked over. To my astonishment (I thought I was seeing things. The boy who sat on the bed next to me seemed to be my twin. His eyes were a little lighter, and harder then my own, and his hair looked silver instead of white. He was tanned, lean, dressed in baggy dark blue jeans and a black sweatshirt. Next to him sat another boy, his blond hair surrounding a tan face with eyes that looked like flowers. Lilac, I decided. He was wearing tight black jeans and a purple muscle shirt. His arms were adorned with thick gold bracelets and the single earing that hung from one ear looked heavy.
I wanted to find out where I was.
"I'm Bakura," the twin offered his hand, which I took a little hesitantly. "And this is Malik, resident nutcases."
"Bakura, that doesn't even begin to sum it up." The blond boy's eyes glittered with laughter, but Bakura must've noticed my confused looks around.
"Shut up Malik, Ryou,," I was startled that he knew my name. Bakura must've caught my look because he pointed at the door. A piece of paper stuck there with tape said "Bakura, Ryou."
"I'm your room mate, they'll tell you to pretend it's camp, but it's not, it's hell." I nodded, after being tackled, drugged and left in an asylum by my father I had already guessed I wasn't in for a fun time. He gave me an appraising look that almost EXACTLY matched my fathers.
"So, planning on saying anything?" I shook my head. Malik nodded, looking sadly at me.
"He's like Isis Bakura." Bakura looked sadly at me. I was confused, who was Isis.
"She's my sister, and she doesn't talk either." I nodded, wanting to meet another one like me.
"So, that's what you're in for." Bakura said, as if just affirming a fact. I raised my brows at him, asking what he'd done to get sent to hell.
He roled up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal lines of cuts.
"I'm sort of typical, but they thought I needed to be in here." I gestured at Malik.
"Killed someone." He said softly. I was shocked. This boy, a killer?
"No, it's not what you think, I'm not a killer, I just one night lost control, and killed my father. I've been over the urge to do it again, it made me sick after I did it, but they still think I'm a danger to society so they won't let me out. Which is fine with me, because now I can see Isis every day." He got a fond look on his face and I smiled a little. It was nice to see that look.
There was a moment's pause when him and Bakura both fel silent, and then both of them smiled.
"Well, speak of the devil." I turned to the door to see a girl standing there. She looked as if she'd had a tan once, but it had a pale look to it. Her glossy black hair hung around her face, which was very thin, and she was rocking slightly. Bakura jumped off his bed and went and hugged her, pushing hair out of her face. This was clearly Isis, and unlike me, it was clear that she hadn't locked the memory away. It haunted her. I could see it in her eyes and the timid way she stood. She gave Bakura a weak smile and walked in the room. She stood by Malik, running her fingers through his hair. He pulled her down so she sat on his lap and he fastened his arms around her waist.
"Isis, this is Ryou, he's Bakura's new roommate, doesn't talk either." She looked at me and I felt understanding. She gave me a jealous look, and I could almost read her thoughts in her face /You managed to hide it, you rise, I fall/ It creeped me out, and I could tell from just this first meeting with these 3 people that this was going to be an interesting stay.
()()()()()()()()()
A/N: Ok, strange, but I hope yall like it. I think it turned out ok, but it's not going to get edited for a little while, I know I say that about everything, but I really mean it for this one, I do want to edit it, but I want to post it tonight and I have to get to hw and bed. Happy Sunday!
TTFN
Katia-chan