Words flew through her head: retorts, apologies, jokes and advice. How desperately she wanted to use these words, not even she knew. It seemed, to her, that the words were something she desired to an extent that was not measurable. To speak was placed above all other matters, from her beloved family to her own life.

For the thousandth time she wondered why it was the only thing she couldn't have.

Sighing, Weiss stood from the dark corner of her room, her pace steady as she exited through the doorway, her mind now calmed from the recent struggle with her mother, who had insisted that she attend public school again. As if she could ever go to a place where everyone else could express themselves freely, and she couldn't. Once, she had tried, and she had attended as a thirteen-year-old girl, but she had been taunted by her classmates for being mute. To have not been able to respond to so many different people, so many different situations, had created such a pain inside her heart that it never faded, even when she became home schooled.

Ever since she had slowly become obsessed. She was obsessed with speaking, with expressing herself. She would spend hours in a corner trying to speak, to make any noise besides a grunt or whine. When her mother would change something, she would grunt and kick and do all she could to express how she did not like change, how she could not handle another change in her fragile routine that kept her sane.

Weiss entered her kitchen, where her mother sat on the counter, speaking to Whitley, her younger brother. He had always been a very frustrating character, for Weiss, as he rarely expressed himself, despite his own ability to speak. He took for granted his own voice, only ever using it when he was required to, and this was something that had caused Weiss to lash out against him many times, physically harming him, or making grunting noises that were meant to tell him to go and do something incredibly dishonorable to himself.

He smiled at her when she entered, like he always did when he saw her, and Weiss cringed inwardly, knowing that her own brother's forgiveness stretched far beyond normal human limits. "Do you want something to drink, Big Sister?" he asked politely. Weiss shook her head, but sat down beside him at he counter, smiling to herself when he gently touched her hand. It was instinct, she knew, from the days when their father would try and hurt them, and Weiss would have to protect him. He would always grab her hand back then, knowing that she was all the protection he had. Still he would always reach out like that, as if he was making sure she was real.

"Weiss, I really think you should consider going to sch-"

Weiss cut her mother off with a nasty grunting noise, shaking her head no. Never, never would she go to a public school, no matter what.

"Weiss, you might regret it later on if you don't take up the opportunity to meet new people."

She fixed her mother with a hard stare, her eyes narrowed, trying to get the message through the she would not be attending any schools, either public or private. Her mother frowned, tossing a lock of white hair from her face in an elegant sort of beauty that was envied by even the richest and most famous of people. She attempted at fixing her daughter back with an equal stare of determination, but failed, her brown eyes softening the moment she met Weiss' gaze, giving up immediately. She sighed, petted her daughters hair lightly, and left the room.

Weiss watched her go, Whitley beside her, as silent as ever. He grabbed her hand, and squeezed it gently, offering up another smile. "Love you, Sis," he said, before getting up and following their mother out of the room.

Alone again, Weiss reached into her pocket and pulled out a scroll, frowning when she saw that she had no new messages. She loved to message people through her scroll, as it was the one and only way she could express herself to the world. She closed her eyes and held the scroll against her chest, relishing in the fact that she had this. She could, in a way, speak. It was almost enough to keep her going.

Almost.