A Price For My Soul
002.
“Hey! No. Back off my sister buddy. Who do you think you are?” I snapped, as I turned to see Sammy talking to none other than Jack Barakat. My jaw dropped. His artistically messy hair was perfect, just like in the five hundred posters I had of All Time Low. He laughed and looked up at me.
“Jack, nice to meet you; what’s your name?” He looked back at Sammy, large grin pasted on his face, opposite of her small scowl. Her mouth tight, lips going white, that’s when I knew I had to step in.
“Jack, as nice and honest as you seem, yeah, my sister can’t talk. So bugger off.” I said in a sweet voice. He raised his eyebrows and his smile became wider.
“She can’t talk? She was just singing.” Jack gave us a skeptical look, but didn’t give it a word. “Well, I can see when I am not wanted. You could have just said go away. I never thought I would get rejected by a normal person…” he rambled as he walked away.
“Thank you so much. You have no clue how weird that was. I love you.” she fumbled, her hands messing up her signing. I smiled back at her and began to sign.
“It’s fine. I am just shocked I just told off Jack Barakat.”
Her jaw dropped. And she rushed her hands even more this time. “Oh my goodness Gemini, I am so sorry I didn’t even know.” I shrugged and grabbed her hand, skipping off to the gates. We were at Warped, and I couldn’t be happier. But somehow, I knew Sammy wasn’t quite as happy as I. She hadn’t really had fun since three years ago.
I was sitting in my room, when I heard Sammy’s guitar go quiet. I stood and walked across the hall and went into her room. She was crying.
“What’ wrong Sam?” her eyes were heartbreaking. She pointed to her throat. She had a cold and had been losing her voice on and off for the last two weeks. But she could always talk a little bit, if only a squeak. Sam screamed and tried hard to talk. No sound came out. I grabbed her hand and we rushed to my parent’s room. One week later, it was announced, she would most likely not talk for a couple years if ever. I held her hand but she pulled away. She packed up her room, packed up her beloved guitar and moved into the basement four months later. She took online sign language courses, as did I, my mother and father and our little brother Michel. Then, two years after, one year ago, she was trying to play her guitar, and she sang. Words formed and they came out. But she still couldn’t talk.
Still heartbroken, she took down the blankets that covered her windows. She built a contraption that knocked on her door to let you know you could enter; she painted her new room and started to play her guitar just so she could sing. She sang every song, learned every song she wanted and became happier again. She tried everything to make her talking voice come back, but she couldn’t. But she never stopped trying.
Sammy gave me a weak smile, and I saw them. My all time favorite band, well, my second all time favorite band, and their adorable guitarist with a scowl on his angelic face.
“Jack, nice to meet you; what’s your name?” He looked back at Sammy, large grin pasted on his face, opposite of her small scowl. Her mouth tight, lips going white, that’s when I knew I had to step in.
“Jack, as nice and honest as you seem, yeah, my sister can’t talk. So bugger off.” I said in a sweet voice. He raised his eyebrows and his smile became wider.
“She can’t talk? She was just singing.” Jack gave us a skeptical look, but didn’t give it a word. “Well, I can see when I am not wanted. You could have just said go away. I never thought I would get rejected by a normal person…” he rambled as he walked away.
“Thank you so much. You have no clue how weird that was. I love you.” she fumbled, her hands messing up her signing. I smiled back at her and began to sign.
“It’s fine. I am just shocked I just told off Jack Barakat.”
Her jaw dropped. And she rushed her hands even more this time. “Oh my goodness Gemini, I am so sorry I didn’t even know.” I shrugged and grabbed her hand, skipping off to the gates. We were at Warped, and I couldn’t be happier. But somehow, I knew Sammy wasn’t quite as happy as I. She hadn’t really had fun since three years ago.
I was sitting in my room, when I heard Sammy’s guitar go quiet. I stood and walked across the hall and went into her room. She was crying.
“What’ wrong Sam?” her eyes were heartbreaking. She pointed to her throat. She had a cold and had been losing her voice on and off for the last two weeks. But she could always talk a little bit, if only a squeak. Sam screamed and tried hard to talk. No sound came out. I grabbed her hand and we rushed to my parent’s room. One week later, it was announced, she would most likely not talk for a couple years if ever. I held her hand but she pulled away. She packed up her room, packed up her beloved guitar and moved into the basement four months later. She took online sign language courses, as did I, my mother and father and our little brother Michel. Then, two years after, one year ago, she was trying to play her guitar, and she sang. Words formed and they came out. But she still couldn’t talk.
Still heartbroken, she took down the blankets that covered her windows. She built a contraption that knocked on her door to let you know you could enter; she painted her new room and started to play her guitar just so she could sing. She sang every song, learned every song she wanted and became happier again. She tried everything to make her talking voice come back, but she couldn’t. But she never stopped trying.
Sammy gave me a weak smile, and I saw them. My all time favorite band, well, my second all time favorite band, and their adorable guitarist with a scowl on his angelic face.
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