You wake up to the sound of a beeping machine. Your whole body hurts and your head is throbbing, your eyes are shut as you take in sharp breaths of air. You try to recall what happened and it takes you a few minutes to register why you aren’t in your plane seat with your father shielding you from harm. You abruptly sit up and let out an airy gasp or more.

Dad?

Your eyes snap open and they immediately shut because of the brightness of the white room. You scan the white room slowly, ignoring the pain you feel in neck and spine. You try to get up but you fall to the floor. I can’t feel my legs. Your eyes water as you fail to pick yourself up. You look down and your eyes widen at the intravenous dripin your arm.

A wave of pain hits you unexpectedly causing your cheek to meet the ground, your arms give out on you too. Silent tears stream down from your eyes. How will I be able to get up now? You can’t scream for help and you can’t crawl to the door. Your body is weak and you feel tired, like you’re about to shut down. Your father is nowhere in sight and you shiver as one thought crosses your mind.

Is he dead?

This is all a bad dream,you convince yourself as more tears pour out of your eyes, silent tears of hopelessness and helplessness. The beeping coming from the machine tells you that this is not a dream; you pass out on the cold floor.

¤¤¤¤¤¤

A nurse helps you sit up, she moves the wheeling tray over your stomach and you find yourself staring into a bowl of hot porridge. Your stomach embarrasses you by letting out a few sounds of hunger.

“You have been out for 2 weeks,” She says with a small kind smile, “Can you use your right hand?” She questions giving you a serious look as if trying to tell whether you’ll lie to her or not. You raise your hand but it falls back to its side, you swallow as you try again but it falls right back to your side each time you try. Your left hand is not responding at all and that is scaring you.

Where is my father? You want to ask but you can’t. 2 weeks? Was I in a coma? You look at her, waiting for her to tell you, you then realize that she can’t read your mind like your father always seems to do.

“I’ll get a nurse to come and help you with the porridge,” She says kindly, “Sit back and don’t move too much. You need to heal – you’re healing well.” She gives you one last smile before she walks out of the room. Does she know I’m mute or is she pretending I’m not? You think miserably, frustrated and sad; you push the tray roughly aside causing it to hit the ground. You use things to make the sound you feel and right now you feel frustrated, you can’t voice out your frustration.

The same nurse burst in the room again and shoots you a worried but stern look; she says nothing and tries to clean up the mess you made on the floor. You turn away from her and cry into the pillow, letting out quiet sniffles.

When you wake up a few hours later, you find a notepad in your hand and a pen in the other. The nurse from before smiles softly at you and she fluffs your pillow.

“Write down what you need,” She tells you as she hands over a remote like thing. “Press the red button if you need anything and someone will be here right away, understood?” She says slowly as though you’re stupid or as though she is talking to a child. You frown at the notepad because it’s not Hoya but you have no choice, feeling like you’re betraying your Hoya notepad, you write down a sentence.

I’m mute, not stupid. Talk to me like you talk to everyone else. It takes you some time to write it down because of your hand, it’s still hurting and using it only makes the pain worsen but you ignore the pain.

She gives you a quick pitiful nod. You bite your lower lip as you scribble a question on the notepad, hesitantly, you show it to her.

Where is my dad?

You notice as her body tenses up slightly before she puts up a blank face and stares at you. “Your father is okay.” She says, somewhat uneasily.

Where is he?

You look at her with a grim skeptical look on your face. She hesitates at the question, “He’s in another room – you need to get some more rest.” She quickly changes the subject.

I want to see him. Your lips crawl into a thin line when she shakes her head.

“Your father is resting and you should be doing the same.” She states sternly, you look at her for a few seconds before you scribble down the last sentence.

Don’t lie to me.

As soon as you know she’s done reading the sentence, you throw both the notepad and a pen across the room out of hurt and frustration. Don’t treat me like I’m a little child. Your hand hurts from all the writing and it falls to your side, to rest.

“I’ll leave you alone; call me if you need anything at all.” She walks out of the room and closes the door with a click.

You sit up after a few difficulties and swing your legs, they feel weak and useless but you know it’s just from the shock of the plane crash. You wince at how awkward your legs feel on the ground; you hold the edge on the bed trying to keep yourself up. Your legs are shaking but you don’t want to give up. You want to stand and you want to feel the ground, staying in bed with nothing to do is driving you crazy and you need to get your mind off the thought of your father’s death.

Staying in here is better than going out in the open with no one to hold your hand, with no one to take your difficulties and stress off your shoulders.

What’s your problem?

Can’t you talk?

Are you dumb?

Would you speak if I paid you?

Hurtful questions, you don’t want to face those questions alone. Not alone, you’re nothing but a person of complete silence when alone. Your father is – was – your voice but you know he’s gone now and you want to stay locked up in here forever.

The regular nurse’s face pops up in your head and how she was talking to you like you’re stupid crosses your mind for a second, just a split second.

It’s not like I chose to be mute. People never seem to understand you. You feel misunderstood and you feel so alone in the world.

I can't do this without a hand to hold onto. You shut your eyes and cry when your legs give out on you again.  

Everything about you is voiced, without the voice.

¤¤¤¤¤

 I’m not sure how she’ll meet HoWon yet but be patient¡

She can; yawn, snort, gasp for air, and cry silently [sometimes sniffle], she can hear of course, she can let out soundless laughter but if you’ve got her laughing hard enough, she snorts. She can laugh on inhale. She can sneeze, cough and hiccup. All those I’ve mentioned do not need vocal cords and I’m letting you in on stuff she can do when it comes to her muteness to clear any future confusion. Correct me if I’m wrong though. And being mute is often associated with deafness but in this case, she can hear. Any questions? Feel free to ask, I don’t bite.

Most of you guys are my old readers/subbers, so you guys pretty much know how I write. For the new subbers/readers, note that I don’t focus on another character and by that I mean changing a whole chapter into another character’s POV or entering the other character’s thoughts, I don’t do that. This is marked as “You” for a reason. I only focus on the main character [You] and what revolves on around her and how she sees things, what her thoughts are. Alright, nuff said, longest note I’ve ever written under a chapter or so I think LOL. I apologize for any errors; I rarely look through my work twice, keep that in mind LOL. Until Next Time :]!