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The door locking behind Name was the only sound of comfort he could remember. That meant he was alone, that meant she couldn't follow him, that meant he could stop hearing her voice in his ears.
But he couldn't.
His mother's accusations rang and echoed, filling his head until there wasn't room for anything else. Choosing to be mute. You want to be mute! And it was a cacophony of agony, building until he had to scream...
But nothing came out.
A breath, hard and forceful, his head exploding as he tried to find his voice, tried to find the sounds that has escaped and found... nothing. Silence. The room was filled with silence and the sound his his knees hitting the floor. The sound of his ragged breath. The sound of his fist on his thigh. The sound of nothing, again and again, as he tried to find the strength to scream.
But the silence reigned.
Name could feel himself crying. He could hear the little huffs of air, the way he kept sniffling, the staccato trembles in each exhale. But there was still no sound. Did he truly want to be silent? Was this all just something he was choosing? Did he really want to be trapped like this? He shivered at the thought, wiping away tears that fell as fast as he could try to clean them.
But he still turned to the mirror.
His lips moved, again and again, shaping Em's name through tears and hiccups and trying to find the sounds he'd made that one time, trying to find the voice he'd lost so long ago. Was this his fault? Was he going to lose everything because he just couldn't make himself talk?
But he couldn't.
Em's name turned to curses, turned to anything, anything at all, a thousand words he could write or sign all right there on his lips but never with a single sound, never with anything more than a shaky inhale or a sniffle.
But he kept trying.
Another scream, another force, trying to find anything that would break his silence again, that would make his mother happy, that would give him freedom. But all that happened was that his face ached, his chest ached, his eyes burnt. Name was still crying, still shaking, exhausted more than he had ever been and still silent, still trapped, still right where he had started. He sank from his knees to sitting flat on the floor, his hands trembling.
But he didn't stop.
He heard his mother test his doorknob. He heard her voice. Did she say his name? Did she ask him anything? His lips worked, his mouth worked, he tried to find those sounds and found nothing but more tears, more pain, the strain turning his face red. He pressed his nails into his arm, trying to bring a scream to his lips. Pinched his skin until it was red, tender to even the lightest touch, silence still holding his tongue hostage. The doorknob had stopped moving. She'd given up. She'd left him again. Everyone left him, again and again, alone in a room in silence.
But he couldn't go.
Name lifted his hand, staring at himself in the mirror. What hadn't he done? What else was there? Was this really just his fault? Did he want this? His eyes were swollen and red, his cheeks irritated by tears, his lips aching as he tried to find anything to bring words to his lips. His eyes traveled to his hand and he swallowed hard, throat aching from the air he'd been forcing through it.
But he couldn't do a thing.
Finally, slowly, he sank into himself. He was out of tears, out of air, out of anything but pain. Em was gone, building a new life with normal people. His mother would look at the next day and she would still blame him and who else would she blame? He had no one else, no one who could help him, no one because he was the one who was wrong. Who else could be wrong? Not all of them. Not all the people who kept leaving, not the ones
They couldn't all be wrong.
So Name curled in on himself on the floor of his bedroom, burying his face in his knees, looking away from the mirror. He couldn't bear the sight of himself. And if his arm ached, if his face burnt, if his eyes could barely close... he had no one to blame but himself, didn't he?