A/N:
I don't own this song (The Noise by Regina Spektor) or SAB.
I can't hear you, I can't hear you, I can't hear you anymore
"Bay!"
"Please, Bay!"
"I'm sorry, Bay!"
Bay stopped and let Daphne catch up, but she didn't turn around. No matter how long Daphne's hand stayed on her shoulder, no matter what the other girl said, she wouldn't turn around. It was her last attempt at survival in a useless war, her last act of rebellion before she was done away with. She crossed her arms and taught herself how to breathe because the sight of all those hands had taken that skill away.
"Bay, you have to understand, Carlton is my home."
It's my home too, she would have said if she was going to turn around. But she wasn't and the words never left her mouth, never curved her hands, were never received by a pleading listener. Instead, the looped in her hand until she couldn't stand them and had to count to ten just to force them out.
"I know I hurt you, and I know I shouldn't have done it, but I need this, Bay."
Need, need, need. Everyone needed something, but you can't always get what you need. You can't always get what you want either, you can only make do with what you have.
Daphne clearly wanted some sort of answer, some show of mercy or kindness that would ease her mind and soothe her heart. Bay wasn't going to turn around, wasn't going to give either of these things, because her own mind would be troubled and her own heart would ache even if she did.
"Bay, please, just look at me."
Bay pretended to be interested in the wall across from her, a poster for Galludet catching her eye and holding it. Daphne would go there, get a good education, become a part of society. Bay would go somewhere else, get an education, and become a part of society as well. Two completely different factions of society, or humanity, of life. Bay didn't want that to happen, didn't want to be seperate from something she had come to love so much.
That was what got her the most, the fact that she loved it so damn much, and yet they were still willing to take it all away. They hadn't even considered how she felt, only how they felt, only what they wanted. Travis was angry at Noah and Bay was being punished. Daphne was angry at the school board and Bay was being punished. Bay was being punished, Bay was being punished, and it felt so unfair because it was.
It was unfair because she was hearing and this was the root of the estrangement. It was unfair because she was being seperated and punished for something she had no control over. She understood, like most, that she was being subjected to what they got a dose of everyday, but it didn't make it any easier to swallow. It hurt just as much, made her feel just as worthless.
There was a time when she felt so connected to Carlton and its students. There was a time when she saw people, not as many different beings, but as many beings that were the same. She could look past deaf and hearing, black and white, boy and girl. She wasn't caught up on the little things, but on the bigger picture, and she loved it. Her eyes were open, her heart was full, and she never wanted it to end.
And, of course, it did.
"I'm sorry, Bay."
Daphne left because there was nothing else to say and Bay wasn't going to turn around, wasn't going to look. She kept her eyes on the poster, her mind on the future, and her heart on the precarious cliff it was teetering on: a sheer drop into the ultimate feeling of betrayal.
She was Bay Kennish, son of John Kennish, artist and lover of a place in which she didn't belong.
And she didn't understand a thing.
I can't hear you, I can't hear you, I can't hear you through this noise