Status: Finished, yo

Not a Sound


When I was young, in grade school, I believe, my dad would take me to school and back in the car. The road was always busy where we used to live, but I didn't mind because my father would always have funny stories to tell me of work. I could always tell him funny stories of school, too, because he was a good listener. We'd also listen to the radio and sing along with the songs.

Melissa Ryder lived along the same road and we almost were friends in grade school. She recently moved here and transferred to my elementary school. We played together a few times since she lived close, and that was fun. Her parents picked her up from school just like me.

One day her mom was late to pick her up. I didn't know this at the time; this was all told to me later. My dad was talking to me and I was laughing about something on the way back from school. He and I didn't see Melissa's mom come swerving down the street into the wrong lane. To this day I don't know if she was intoxicated or just stressed out. Either way, her car smashed into ours head-on.

My father and her mother were killed instantly. I was in the backseat thankfully with my seatbelt on and I was only injured. Injured severely, but not killed. I suffered a head injury that caused my permanent deafness and some broken bones. I only have scars now. I still wish my father was here.

As if my world hadn't crumbled enough, from then on, Melissa made my life a living hell. I can understand from her point of view, it's terrible losing a parent, and the only way she must've coped was to blame it all on me. But she still is cruel and it's unbearable. I wish I could do something, but the last time I've said something to stand up for myself, she told her father. Her father is the principal of our school. She lied to him the day I told her to stop freshman year and I almost got suspended for doing something I never did.

I'm scared to do something. And I don't know what to do. I'm afraid she'll tell her dad something because of what I did today.

I'm sorry for telling you all of this.

Ozzy watches as my hands finally fall to my lap and tears stream down my cheeks. I don't bother to wipe them away now; it's pointless. I look at him. He registers all what I signed and nods his head. I wait, my heart pounding, for him to say, I don't believe you.

But I see his mouth form, I know what we can do to solve this, and he presses his lips against my forehead.