These Bright Lights Have Always Blinded Me

When we arrived at school I looked at him and he said,
“Thanks for showing me the way.”
I nodded and then turned away and walked into the crowd of over-eager students. I walked to my locker and I had just opened it when I heard a small scuffling sound behind me. I knew instantly what was going to happen and I tried to move out of the way but I was too slow and I was kicked in the back and shoved into my locker. I banged my head against the top shelf and I bit my lip only to cause myself more pain because of my already split lip.
“That, sweetheart, is for spitting blood all over my new jeans,” Damien said with vindication in his voice. I scowled and punched the locker. He and his friends laughed at me and then the school bell rang.
“Go have a fucking cry emo kid and slit your fucking wrists! I hope you fucking die in there!” Damien snarled before taping over the small vents at the top and grabbing his friends and walking out of there. I grit my teeth in annoyance and slammed my fist into the locker door until I felt the skin on my knuckles split. I sighed and sat back against the locker wall. I didn’t mind being in here as much so much as the fact that I was locked in. Dark places didn’t bother me; I preferred the dark to the light, simply because it’s easier for me to hide in the dark than in broad daylight.

I’d been in my locker for approximately an hour and I was pressing my mouth to the crack of the door, trying to bring in enough air to breathe, when I heard voices nearby. Maybe I could finally get out of this thing! My muscles were starting to cramp from the inability to stretch them. I went to punch the locker when I remembered my hand so I threw my shoulder against the locker and I groaned as pain radiated through my shoulder. I threw my shoulder back against the locker and this time I heard a yelp.
“Shit! Frank! That scared the shit out of me!” I heard a vaguely familiar male voice say.
“Where the hell is it coming from?” I heard another vaguely familiar male voice say.
I sighed and hit my shoulder against the locker door again.
“It’s coming from that locker! Do you think it’s a serial killer trying to lure us into its trap to kill us?” The second voice asked.
I rolled my eyes. I quickly pulled out a pen and paper and scribbled a note and pushed it through the small slots at the top of the locker allowing a small amount of light and oxygen to filter through.
“Look Ray! A note just came out of the locker!” The second voice said.
I heard feet come closer and stop outside my locker. I banged frantically on the door, ignoring the pain in my hands and I heard one of guys scream and the other say,
“Chill Frankie. They’re not a serial killer trying to kill us.”
“How can you be so sure?” the other voice asked in a babyish voice.
I was getting annoyed now so I slammed my hand as hard as I could into the door. I grunted as shock waves of pain bolted through my arm.
“Did you hear that?” a voice whispered.
“Dude, they’re not a serial killer! They just got shoved into a locker by Damien!” the first voice said exasperatedly.
“How do you know?” the second voice asked.
“Because the note said so, dumb shit,” the first voice said.
“Oh…but what if they’re just saying that?” the second voice asked.
I ripped another piece of paper and scribbled another note.
“Frank, get a fucking grip!” the first voice said annoyed.
“Hey, there’s another note!” the second voice said enthusiastically.
“It’s says, ‘I am not a fucking serial killer! I’m just a 17 year old girl shoved into a locker by Damien who is going to die of asphyxiation!’ Shit! Frank, we gotta get her outta there!” the first voice said.
“Yeah, okay, you open it, I don’t wanna die by some serial killer,” the second voice said.
“Pussy,” the first voice said. I heard scraping and then the door flung open. I gasped and fell out of the locker.
“Shit, are you okay?” the first voice asked. I coughed and lay there gasping for precious air.
“Told you she wasn’t a serial killer,” the first voice said.
“Yeah, yeah…hey girl, are you okay? Want some skittles?” the second voice asked. I stood up and made sure my hood was firmly over my head and pulled my pen out.
Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
“You’re welcome…hey, aren’t you the mute?” I saw that the first voice I’d heard belonged to a skater like guy with a huge brown afro.
Yeah, and?
“Why did Damien shove you in a locker?” The second voice belonged to a short, black haired quirky guy who had a bunch of tattoos and piercings.
I don’t know, he hates me…not to be rude, but who are you?
“Oh sorry, I’m Ray, and this is Frank,” Fro-man said.
K. Well…thank you for rescuing me from that locker. I think I’ll be heading off to class now though.
I gathered my shit together and walked away.

I arrived in English 30 minutes late and I knocked at the door.
“Come in!” Mr. Kale yelled and I obediently opened the door and walked in. I looked out and I saw Damien look at me incredulously but then it quickly changed to one of loathing and disgust.
“Oh…it’s only you…take a seat,” Mr. Kale said disappointed.
I rolled my eyes,
Sorry to disappoint you with my presence.
“Damn right you should be, this world was made for people who talk, not freaks of nature who don’t,” Mr. Kale snarled.
I clenched my fists and I felt a warm liquid slide down my fingers. I hated Mr. Kale and he hated me. I grabbed a tissue and held it against my bleeding fist and walked to my seat, which was surprisingly beside Mikey. I looked shocked at him and he looked at me sheepishly. I raised an eyebrow in question and he shrugged. I decided to leave it at that and turned my attention to the board, to find that it was being wiped clear of all the notes that were on it. I heard half the class groan and Mr. Kale glared down at me. I knew he was doing that just so I would fail.
“Here,” I heard Mikey whisper and when Mr. Kale turned his back Mikey gave me his book to copy the notes off. I smiled at him gratefully and quickly copied the notes while tuning Mr. Kale out.

I tuned back in when I heard Mr. Kale say,
“…Michael Way and Miss. Freak, that is it! No swapping partners! Get working!”
“Great job Mr. Kale! You put the two faggatrons together!” Damien yelled.
The whole class laughed and I felt my cheeks flush red in anger; I started to stand up when a hand pulled me back down. I turned to see Mikey, red with embarrassment holding me down. He shook his head and I sighed. I turned to him and scribbled,
What are we even meant to be doing?
“Our assignment,” he said quietly.
Which is?
“Compare Romeo and Juliet to a modern day movie or something like that,” he said.
I blinked, he had to be kidding me.
“No, I’m not kidding. It is as gay as it sounds,” he said.
Of course Mr. Kale would choose something to do with Romeo and Juliet. I hate it.
“Why does he hate you so much?” Mikey asked curiously.
It was something I had asked myself many times.
I’m not really sure, I think it’s cause I’m different. He doesn’t like anything that’s different, or not meant to be. Like me and my decision to be mute.
“But…technically you’re not because you have the physical ability to speak,” Mikey said.
That’s…not so true…if I tried to speak now, I would find it difficult to do because I haven’t spoken in years. If you lay in a bed for years and do nothing to exercise the muscles in your legs, the muscle would wither away and if you suddenly got out of bed you would fall. It would take months of physiotherapy etc to bring your muscles back to their former ability.
“But…You…I…What?” Mikey jabbered.
I smiled emotionlessly.
“Just how long have you gone without speaking?” he asked.
I paused for a moment thinking.
Roughly 8 or 9 years. I stopped talking when I was around 8 or 9 because no one cared enough to listen.
“I’ll listen! Gee will listen! Mr. Kale will listen! Everyone will!” Mikey said desperately.
I felt my mind closing up slightly and I looked at my book before I wrote,
So, what movie are we watching?