Chapter 2 The Silent Treatment

A few weeks had passed since the dance, and Lincoln was slowly becoming more involved in family activities. The layers of trauma were beginning to peel away, and his family could see that they were slowly gaining back his trust.

One afternoon, Lincoln sat in Lucy's room, which she no longer shared with Lynn Jr. Lucy had invited him to listen to a new poem she had written. The room was dimly lit, with candles casting soft shadows on the walls. Lucy sat on her bed, holding her notebook.

"I wrote this for you, Lincoln," she said softly. "It's called 'Unmasked'."

She began to read:

Unmasked

In shadows deep, where silence reigns,
A mask concealed the hidden pains.
But now the veil is lifted high,
And I can see your face, oh my.

The days I counted, one by one,
For you to shine, like morning sun.
Your eyes, your smile, now free to show,
The strength within, the heart aglow.

No longer bound by fear or shame,
Your spirit soars, no one to blame.
In time, your voice will find its way,
And we will hear what you will say.

Lucy finished reading and looked up at Lincoln. "What do you think?" she asked, her eyes searching his face.

Lincoln picked up his whiteboard and wrote, "It's beautiful, Lucy. Thank you. I admire your feelings."

Lucy smiled, a rare sight. "I'm going to write another poem about you when you finally speak," she said, and Lincoln nodded in agreement.

Suddenly, Lola burst into the room, her face lit up with excitement. "Lincoln! You promised you'd take me to the mall today!" she exclaimed, grabbing him by the back of his shirt and dragging him out of Lucy's bedroom. Lincoln waved goodbye to Lucy as he was pulled away.

At the mall, Lincoln and Lola went through a montage of changing clothes. Lola would switch outfits and show them to Lincoln, asking, "Which one looks better on me?" Lincoln would nod or shake his head, giving his approval or disapproval.

Their next stop was a store filled with supplies for Lola's beauty pageant career. Tiaras, ribbon wands, and ballet tights filled their shopping cart. Lola, always the frivolous spender, carried more than she could handle. Lincoln, acting as the baggage boy, struggled under the weight of the bags but didn't mind. It felt great to spend time with Lola again.

Noticing Lincoln's struggle, Lola's face filled with guilt. She went over to him and grabbed as many bags as she could to ease his load. "I don't like it when you suffer in silence," she said, her voice soft but firm.

Those words struck a chord with Lincoln, making him stand still for a moment. As Lola walked off, she turned around and called, "Hurry up, or we're going to miss the bus!"

Lincoln smiled and followed her instructions.

Back at home, Lana was in Lincoln's room, rearranging and converting his bed frame to elevate higher so she could place a desk underneath it. She was also organizing his clothes and small dresser, removing old furniture to adjust to his needs. As Lincoln walked in to check, she greeted him.

"Just making a few finishing touches," she said, tightening a screw.

Lincoln, now a teenager, had grown, making Lana ponder why he still lived in the walkway closet. "Ya know, Lincoln, ever since Luan moved out, the other sisters and I are willing to make adjustments to give you a bigger room. Lucy is willing to bunk back with Lynn, or Lola and I are willing to become roommates just to give you a real room of your own."

Lincoln appreciated Lana's kind offer but wrote on his whiteboard, "I'd rather stay where I am."

For him, his closet room was his sanctuary, shielding him not just from the world but from his family too. He remembered the early days before Christina confessed the truth, when he was treated like a total outcast in his own home. At the time, he still had a voice. He remembered seeing his sisters waiting in line for the bathroom as he got out of his room.

"Oh, look who finally shows up," Lynn said sarcastically.

Luan added, "Lincoln's so freaky, even the mirror can't handle his reflection!

Luna chimed in, "Yeah, dude, watch out."

Frustrated, Lincoln tried to convince them of his innocence. "You have to believe me," he pleaded.

"Save it, twerp," Lori said, her voice cold. "You've done enough damage as it is."

Lori, the most disappointed out of the sisters, really wanted to believe Lincoln but found it hard to imagine her own brother doing such a thing. She felt it was her duty as the oldest to guide Lincoln, especially when it came to girls.

Day by day, Lincoln tried to do kind favors to regain his sisters' trust and make them listen to reason, but they saw it as a ruse. Not wanting their brother around, they excluded him from their activities, finding it to work.

They would go to the park without him, have movie nights in Lori's room, and even bake cookies together, leaving Lincoln out. In time, Lincoln tried less and less to convince his sisters, seeing no point in doing so.

One day, he walked around the house, seeing no sister in sight—a common occurrence now. With nothing better to do, he went back to his room. As he walked up the stairs, he heard some chatter coming from Lori and Leni's room. They were having a sister meeting. Lincoln listened closely behind the door.

"I told you excluding him would stop him from following us," Lana said, as all the sisters chatted in agreement.

"It was bad enough he was trying to butter us up," Lola added.

Leni, feeling self-doubt about her actions, asked, "Is this a good idea? What if Lincoln is actually telling the truth?"

The girls fell silent for a moment, wishing it to be true. Lori began to express her feelings to Leni. "Leni, trust me, I don't want to be doing this to Lincoln either. I want to believe he didn't do any of that. We all do. But the rumors about Lincoln attacking Christina had too many witnesses, and how he came out of the locker room a bit messy… it's hard to ignore."

Hearing it from Ronnie Ann herself made it even harder for Lori to dismiss the rumors. With a crestfallen look in her eye, Luna asked, "So, how should we move forward about Lincoln?"

Lori answered, "The next step is to give him the 'Silent Treatment'. We ignore him completely, to the point he doesn't exist. All in favor, say 'I'."

"I," the rest of the sisters said in unison.

Lincoln, behind the closed door, couldn't believe what he heard. They were going to ignore him completely. "The Silent Treatment" echoed in his mind. He was so hurt by how far his sisters were willing to go for not believing him that he felt defeated. His sisters were a lost cause. After hearing this, he knew his sisters didn't hate him, but they couldn't love him either. He thought about what they said—if it was best to give him the silent treatment, he would do the same.

As days went by, the sisters began to enact the silent treatment. They didn't know it at first, but giving him complete silence by not talking to him made them think their plan was working. When he walked into a room, instant chatter stopped, not even looking in his direction. Other times, chatter continued, but no one seemed to acknowledge his presence. Little did they know, Lincoln was doing the same.

A pivotal point was during dinner. Lincoln wanted some parmesan cheese for his spaghetti. He stood up, walked across to the other side of the table, grabbed the parmesan shaker, and poured it on top of his food. Confused, both Rita and Lynn Sr. looked at each other.

"Lincoln, why didn't you ask your sisters to pass the shaker?" Lynn Sr. asked.

Lincoln just sat in silence, eating his food.

Rita, filled with worry, asked, "Are you okay?"

Again, silence. The sisters began to look at each other until Luan spoke. "Lincoln, I was willing to pass the shaker."

But yet again, silence.

Rita asked, "Lincoln, do you need to talk about something?"

Lincoln, knowing he couldn't ignore all questions, looked at his mother and simply shook his head no. He finished his food and walked away.

"Lincoln, it's rude not to ask to be excused from the table," Lynn Sr. said.

Lincoln turned around, nodded at him, and walked away. Left more confused than angry, Lynn Sr. looked at his daughters. "Care to explain?"

All the sisters responded at random, not knowing what was going on, but they knew they were lying and began to second-guess their silent treatment protocol.

Lincoln's silence was affecting his schoolwork too. His teachers called his parents, discussing his silent demeanor, saying it was affecting his participation points.

"Mr. and Mrs. Loud, Lincoln's lack of participation is becoming a concern," Mrs. Johnson, his English teacher, explained during a parent-teacher conference. "He hasn't spoken in class for weeks, and it's impacting his grades."

Rita and Lynn Sr. exchanged worried glances. "We understand, Mrs. Johnson. We'll talk to him," Rita said, her voice filled with concern.

As Lincoln walked through the school halls, students and classmates heckled behind his back.

"Hey, mute boy, got nothing to say?" one student sneered.

"Look at him, thinks he's too good to talk to us," another added.

"Maybe he's just scared we'll find out more about what he did," a third chimed in.

Lincoln, unfazed by the snickering and disgust, walked by with a cold, blank expression. One day, he saw his locker spray-painted with the words "You Pig." Lincoln just stood there, sinking in the gravity of the situation.

Christina and her friend group, including Molly, Cookie, Girl Jordan, and Rachel, were nearby. Molly, with her hands on her hips, sneered, "Serves you right."

Lincoln turned around to face them.

"It's bad enough we share the same class with you, let alone seeing your disgusting face," Molly continued.

"I don't even know what we saw in him," Cookie added.

Rachel stepped forward. "I can't believe you invited him to your party, Jordan. Imagine if one of us was alone with him. What do you think he'd do to us?"

Girl Jordan, with little confidence in her voice, said, "Uh, yeah, you think after all these years we've known him, it's hard to see him in a different light." She couldn't look Lincoln in the eyes, as if she didn't want to join the "I hate Lincoln" bandwagon.

Lincoln stoically stood there, taking the insults at full force. On the outside, it looked like he didn't care, but deep down, those words cut deep.

"Got nothing to say? You traumatized Christina! At least show something to let her know you're sorry!" Molly yelled, the most vocal of the group.

"No, he ain't gonna say a single word," a voice interrupted. All heads turned to see Chandler approaching. "Haven't you girls heard? Lincoln's gone silent. For the past week or so, he hasn't made a single peep. But don't feel bad for the guy; he's probably doing it for sympathy points."

Christina, with confusion on her face, asked, "What do you mean he's gone silent?"

"C'mon, we share the same classes with him. Haven't y'all noticed Lincoln's gone mute?" Chandler responded. "I overheard Principal Huggins talking to his parents, suggesting Lincoln's muteness is becoming more prevalent. They were talking about seeking professional help or something like that."

Christina and Girl Jordan, surprised by the news, said, "What?" in unison.

"Don't worry about it," Chandler said, waving it off. "He's doing it for sympathy. I'll take it from here; he gets the message."

Christina, holding her binder tight to her chest, crestfallen, told the group, "Let's just go and leave him alone."

As Lincoln saw them walk away, he noticed Christina looking back at him, making him wonder what was that about. It was as if she felt wrong about what she did.

Now alone with Chandler, Chandler wrapped his arm around Lincoln's shoulder. "You were a fool to let a girl like Christina get away like that. There's no need to ruin your own reputation with how good-looking you are," Chandler said with a smug look. "Don't worry, I'll take care of Christina from now on." He patted Lincoln on the shoulder and walked away.

Lincoln smelled the aroma of fresh spray paint and noticed the smell was coming from where Chandler had patted him. He saw stains of black on his shoulder. It didn't take much to put two and two together about who vandalized his locker. For now, Lincoln processed what happened and focused on what Molly and Chandler said about his looks, telling himself maybe it's best to hide his face; all it did was get him into trouble.

Back to the current day, as Lincoln finished reminiscing, Lana noticed a tinge of redness in his eyes as a waterfall of tears began to pour. Worried, Lana asked, "Lincoln, is something the matter? Should I get help?"

Snapping out of his trance, Lincoln quickly smiled, cupped his sister's face with both hands, and nuzzled her forehead. Then he wrote on his whiteboard to reassure her he was fine and would like to be alone now.

Lana intervened, "But I'm not finished yet—"

Lincoln gently but firmly shut her out of his room. Lana, outside his door, took a minute to process what had just happened. Seeing the stoic look Lincoln had, she saw his tears fall easily without him blinking. The facial expression he had before was bright and warm, a radiant glow in his smile. But this one was different—stoic and expressionless, yet somehow speaking volumes of sadness. Lana, now empathetic, said to herself, "This is what he must have felt all these years," as a couple of teardrops slid on her cheeks.

Exhausted, Lincoln slid down, coming to rest on the floor with his back against the solid wood behind him. The room was cloaked in darkness, except for a thin strip of light seeping through the gaps around the frame. He felt the weight of his memories pressing down on him, the echoes of past hurts reverberating in the silence.

After a few quiet moments, a subtle knock echoed through the room. "Lincoln, it's Dad," Lynn Sr. called out gently. "Lana told me what happened and how you wanted to be left alone. I know you don't have to speak, and you don't have to write, but can you at least listen?"

Lincoln remained silent, his eyes fixed on the faint light.

Lynn Sr. sighed deeply. "Son, there's no amount of apologies or admissions of how wrong I was that could make up for the fact that I failed you as a father, plain and simple."

He sank to the ground, leaning his back against the door, mirroring Lincoln's posture. "When I found out I was going to have a son, I was excited. I wanted to take you to sports games, teach you to cook, maybe even have you take over the family restaurant, Lynn's Table. I wanted to show you the ins and outs of being a man. But I failed in that department too."

Lynn Sr. paused, his voice heavy with emotion. "On the other hand, I was afraid. Raising girls felt different. It was about showing them love, support, and hoping they find the right man who treats them well. But with you, I thought boys should be resilient, strong, tough, and take responsibility for their actions. Characteristics I'm ashamed to admit, I don't have."

He took a deep breath, continuing, "My father, your grandfather, was a hard-working man, a fisherman. He was hardly around because of his long fishing trips. When he was around, I tried to get any chance to hang out with him, but he mostly spent time with my older brother, Lance. It drove me nuts. I thought he must have a favorite. Lance was muscular and athletic, everything I wasn't. I was more sensitive, easily scared of almost everything—a loser."

Lynn Sr. chuckled bitterly. "I didn't want you to grow up to be like me. I wanted you to be tougher and stronger, like your uncle and grandfather. But I should have raised you to be the man you wanted to be, not what I wanted you to be."

He hesitated before continuing, "When I first heard what Christina accused you of, I didn't want to believe it was true. But the rumors about you making advances towards her… I thought it was possible."

Lincoln's ears perked up, listening more closely.

"I was nothing like you during my younger days. You stood out in a good way. Girls naturally surrounded you because of your attentive, humble nature. Your carefree attitude also ignores the people who wished to see you fail. But I was the kid who had a party on the same day as another kid. My friends, my crush, and classmates lied, saying they couldn't make it, only for me to find out they went to the other kid's party instead. When I heard the rumor, I thought maybe your ego got the better of you. I thought your kind nature was just a ruse to get any girl you wanted and leave them when you got tired of them. I mean, you got your looks from your mother," he chuckled half-heartedly. "I thought you could pull off any girl you wanted to. Unlike me, who couldn't get my crush to know I existed. I feared you had the potential to grow up to be a womanizer. So, to me, the rumor felt more plausible at the time."

Lynn Sr. sighed deeply. "But when you decided to stop talking, I began to doubt the rumor. You closed yourself off from us, your family, and your academic life fell behind. It was when Principal Huggins suggested seeing a professional therapist that I realized how serious it was."

Lynn Sr. began to recount the first day they went to Dr. Lopez's office. Dr. Lopez, a Hispanic woman with a warm yet professional demeanor, had just finished evaluating Lincoln. She wanted to talk to Rita and Lynn Sr. as Lincoln switched rooms with his parents.

"Mr. and Mrs. Loud," Dr. Lopez began, "I asked Lincoln questions like why he became mute, what his family is like, and how the accusation made him feel. His response was silence, only staring around the room bored. But one question stood out. I asked him if the rumor about him was true? He looked at me and slowly shook his head no."

Rita and Lynn Sr. exchanged glances, their hearts heavy with guilt.

Dr. Lopez continued, "Lincoln chose to be mute as a way to cope with the trauma. He exhibits symptoms of selective mutism, a condition often triggered by severe anxiety. It's like a defense mechanism, a way to protect himself from further emotional pain."

She paused, letting the information sink in. "I believe Lincoln is telling the truth. His silence is not just about the accusation; it's about the broken trust and the feeling of betrayal from his family."

Dr. Lopez looked at them intently. "The danger of Lincoln's prolonged muteness could be permanent. He might stop interacting with everyone, isolating himself completely. His mutism is still in its early stages, so there is still a chance for him to speak again, but trust is crucial."

As Lynn Sr. finished telling his story, he said, "The point of all this, Lincoln, is that I let my insecurities cloud my judgment. The fact is, I didn't know how to raise you. I wanted you to be someone I wasn't, and in doing so, I failed you. I'm sorry, son."

Lincoln sat in silence, absorbing his father's words. The room was still, the only sound being the faint hum of the house. Lynn Sr. remained on the other side of the door, hoping his words had reached his son. A moment of silence filled the upper floor of the Loud house. Each sister, occupying their respective rooms, listened behind cracked doors to their father's heartfelt plea to their brother.

As the silence continued, Lynn Sr. took it as a sign of defeat and began to walk away, hoping he had reached out to his son. Suddenly, the door creaked open. Lincoln stood there, his face a mix of questioning and sternness.

"Lincoln?" Lynn Sr. turned around, surprised.

Lincoln began to write on his whiteboard, his hand shaking slightly. "Is what you say true? Is that how you see me?"

Lynn Sr. felt a pang of guilt. "Yes, son. I'm not proud of it."

Lincoln continued to write, "I thought you just hated me. I thought I was a disappointment to you.

Hearing him write it down, Lynn Sr. was shocked. "Lincoln, how could you ever think that? I never hated you. I… I just didn't know how to show you I cared."

Lincoln's eyes softened as he wrote, "I didn't know you had a rough childhood. Wanting your father's attention, always being picked second to your brother, and no one coming to your party. I'm sorry, Dad. That must've been so hard."

Lynn Sr. felt a wave of relief and anxiety wash over him. "It was, Lincoln. But hearing you say that… It means a lot."

Lincoln began to write why he was feeling sad. "I remembered why I became mute in the first place. The memory was just a bit tense, that's all."

Lynn Sr. asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Lincoln shook his head and wrote, "No, it's fine." He paused before writing again, "What I really want to tell you is that you're not a loser. If I had met you as a kid, I would have definitely come to your party. We would've been best friends."

Lynn Sr.'s heart warmed at his son's words. "Thank you, Lincoln. That means more to me than you know."

Lincoln wrote, "You're not a terrible father. You were just trying your best to raise me right."

Lynn Sr. smiled, tears welling up in his eyes. "I was, Lincoln. I really was."

Then Lincoln's face changed to a more serious tone. He wrote, "Do you think I'm a terrible son? Do you even consider me your son?" He held the whiteboard up, covering his face as he cried behind it.

Lynn Sr. could hear his son whimpering, the first sound he had heard from him in years. It wasn't a word, but it was a sound nonetheless. Trying his best to hold back his tears, Lynn Sr. grabbed the whiteboard and tossed it to the floor. He proceeded to hug Lincoln tightly as he whimpered on his chest.

"You're not a terrible son, Lincoln. You're already a better man than I am," Lynn Sr. said, his voice breaking. "You are my son, Lincoln. You are my son."

As they embraced for the first time in years, the sisters watched from their rooms, knowing that better days were coming.