| |
Drag Creek, Kentucky
Mute
Lying in the hospital is for the motherfucking birds. My mother just stares at me and cries. I can’t take it. I’d love to scream and yell for her to just let me be, but I can’t do that. Not having a full tongue puts a damper on the whole communication thing. I have a dry erase board and markers. I feel like a damn kid.
My tongue isn’t as far gone as some would think. It’s only the tip that’s missing. Still makes talking and eating difficult, but not as bad as it could be. I could talk if I wanted to, but I hate the way I sound. I sound like I have a Goddamned lisp.
At least my burns aren’t as severe as the doctors initially thought. I’ve been doing physical therapy for my hands. That’s where I suffered the most damage. My face is scarred; I hate looking in the mirror. My reflection is disgusting to look at. My face looks like a melted pizza on one side while the other is fine. Might as well call me Two-face like the villain in the Batman movie, or motherfuckin’ Freddy Krueger. However, the only scars that hurt are the ones no one sees.
I was lucky I didn’t lose my eyesight on the left side of my face. I wish I would have died the night the Black Rebel Riders’ MC rolled up on the farm and torched the barn. Hell would have to be better than living this way—like a Godforsaken freak. I see how people turn their heads when they see me or hide their eyes when I go to the cafeteria or for a walk.
I see the pity the nurses have for me.
The guilt Sunshine carries.
It’s all too much.
I wish I would’ve died in the fire instead of fleeing from the flames. If I could go back...I’d allow the smoke to choke me and the inferno to claim me.
The pain was too much, I had to break free.
I can still feel the flames licking across my face and claiming my hands as I ripped the boards from the wall. I still feel like I can’t breathe.
I can still hear the cries of pain and smell the burning of my flesh.
It’s all around me—the fire, the pain—the memories.
My only comfort is the books my mom brings to me. I still feel weird thinking of Sunshine as my mother. Mom is still too intimate, so I call her Sunshine. The books belong to my stepsister, Dawn, whom I’ve not met yet. I haven’t been introduced to Jamie, my stepbrother either.
Sunshine says she wants to take me home to live with her and her family, Romeo, Dawn, and Jamie. I’m not sure how I feel about her plans, but I don’t have anywhere else to go. I don’t want to go back home, where everyone lied to me, where my father tortured me.
My aunt, the woman who raised me from birth, can’t bear the sight of me which suits me fine. I don’t want to see her either. I was blindsided by Paul; I never knew he was my father until he started punching me and yelling at me for letting Sunshine walk out the door with Romeo.
I didn’t know what was going on at the time, I just knew she looked like hell, and I couldn’t believe Paul could be so damn cruel. There were a lot of things I didn’t know about him, and other things I choose to forget.
I should’ve stood up to him long ago.
I should have done a lot of things.
I can’t change the hand I was dealt by life, but I can have a fresh start one day.
Someday I’ll escape the scars that mark me.
The scars that haunt me.
One good thing that comes from being a mute, I don’t have to answer anything I don’t want to. My therapist wants me to learn sign language and do speech therapy, but I don’t have the patience, and it hurts my fingers.
I’m attempting to grow a beard but it’s patchy as fuck on the left side. The hair won’t grow in certain spots. I look like a crazy methhead and feel like one too. My thoughts are jumbled.
The door to my room creaks open. I recognize the sound of my mother’s shoes; black heels click on the floor as she approaches me.
“Patrick, sweetie, today’s the day, you’re coming home with me.” She smiles, genuinely happy to take me with her. Her blonde hair whispers against her cheeks. She cut it a few days ago or so she told me. I don’t really pay attention to shit like that.
I can only nod, afraid to smile, afraid to be happy. Misery is my constant companion.
She lays a tote bag on the foot of my bed. “I brought you a change of clothes to wear home. I figured you were tired of sweats.”
Thank You. I write on my board for her to read. It feels good to dress myself without help, even though my hands ache. At least Sunshine seems to have good taste in clothes.
She gave me a red Harley Davidson t-shirt, dark denim jeans paired with a pair of kick ass riding boots, not that I can ride right now. Not like I have a motorcycle anymore. It was torched.
I go to the bathroom to change. Afterwards a nurse enters the room with my discharge instructions. I sign off on my release and pack up what little bit of personal effects I have, a few books and my board.
In the car, Sunshine tells me the rules of living at the MC’s compound. Basically keep my head down and don’t fuck with anything or anyone. I plan on keeping to myself, so I’m not worried. I just don’t know what to expect when we get to the trailer.
We stop by the pharmacy to pick up my prescriptions and a few toiletries I will need. A little girl cries when she gets a good look at me, and I stick my poor excuse of a tongue out at her. Now she has something to cry about.
She goes running to her mom screaming about the scary man.
Her fat ass mom starts to give me a piece of her mind until she sees what a monster I am herself. She can’t seem to see past my burns, but no one can.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize,” the woman says with her hand to her mouth.
I toss my shit in Sunshine’s buggy and point to the door. She reaches me her keys knowing I need to get out of here. I’m not ready to face the world just yet.
I start the car and lay my head back as the radio plays, getting lost in the music, enjoying a moment to just breathe.
It won’t always be this way, at least it’s the lie I tell myself. If I repeat it enough, maybe it will prove true. I watch the people going on about their daily lives, slaves to society. They have perfect hair, perfect teeth, shiny cars, and expensive jeans.
I used to be like them.
Fuck them.
Fuck society.
Fuck fitting in.
Fuck normal.
It’s all overrated and doesn’t say a Goddamn thing about who any of us really are.
Minutes later, Sunshine gets in the car. She turns down the music and says to me, “It’s a bad day not a bad life. Hang in there, it will get easier.”
I swallow and nod as tears threaten to fall. I turn to the right and stare out the window as we drive down a lonely stretch of highway.
I crack the window, gasping for air and try not to imagine what might life could have been.
I can’t change anything.
I’m a prisoner in my own body and mind.
I just want to forget who I was.
I want to forget I was fathered by a beast.
I just want to be me.
Whoever in the fuck that is.
I used to have hopes and dreams.
I used to be so full of life.
My father broke me.
The memories burn in my chest stealing my breaths away.
The Roadhouse appears in front of us. Harley’s line the lot.
A few brother’s standing around outside smoking give me a dirty look as we pass them by.
Yeah, I know I’m not wanted.
Story of my life.
My own mother gave me up at birth.
Unwanted.
The forgotten son.
She could have told me who she was when she first laid eyes on me.
She chose not to.
She could have saved me from so much pain had she just opened her mouth and said the words.
“We’re here,” she says with a weak smile.
I look up to a shitty trailer among a row of others.
This is home now.
This is where someday begins.
I get out of the car and walk up the creaky steps behind my mother. A teenage boy sits on the couch in the living room playing a video game, wearing a headset.
“Sup, dude,” he says not even looking at me. Maybe he’s talking to one of his friends.
“Jamie, get off the game and show Patrick his room.”
So she does have a motherly bone in her body, just not one for me.
The kid rolls his eyes, but throws his controller to the side, and shoves up from the couch. Potato chip crumbs fall from his shirt and onto the floor.
Sunshine sucks in a breath and lets out a tsk.
I move past her with my board and small bag of items from the pharmacy.
I don’t have anything here.
I feel like such a fucking loser.
I had things at my old house. Sunshine offered to get them for me, but I don’t want any part of my former life.
I just feel so damned lost.
I’ve lost my center.
Everything just seems so out of reach.
I take a deep breath and follow the boy down the hall. He points to a closed door and says it’s the bathroom. The next room he says is ours. Fuck, I gotta share with this little shit.
He appears as happy about it as I am. I think his dark blue eyes are going to get stuck if he rolls them back one more time. His hair is shaved short in a buzz cut. I can’t even tell if he has blond or brown hair, not that it matters I guess.
“Your bed is on the left.” He flops down on the other bed on the right that has Batman sheets on it.
Mine has Ninja Turtles, and I start to laugh, but catch myself. I don’t want him to make fun of the way I sound.
“I guess you not talking is a plus. You won’t argue with me or rat me out to Sunshine. She’s like a damn drill sergeant. You’re lucky you didn’t have her breathing down your throat as a kid, man.”
Yeah, that’s me the lucky one.