The sun was shining bright in the morning. The school bell that signified that class was about to begin went off. Conner stepped into his first class, which was Trigonometry. The class was rather large, holding up to probably at least 30 students, maybe a little more. The walls and ceiling were a bright white with a hint of black on the ceiling. The black board spread across the front and back of the room. The teacher's desk was located in the front right of the room, closest to the window. Conner took his seat, which was placed in the far corner of the room, opposite of the teacher's desk.
"Alright class" the teacher announced. "I would hope that you all completed your homework. I will be coming around to check and see if you have it done."
Every single student pulled out their notebook and revealed their completed homework. Meanwhile, Conner failed to finish his homework. He began shaking in fear of getting yelled at, so he buried his head in his arms. One by one, she examined every student's homework until she arrived at his desk. He lifted his head and looked her straight in the eyes.
"Where is your homework this time?" the teacher asked, holding a sheet of paper and her pen, keeping track of grades.
Conner said nothing, but pulled off a shrug.
"You haven't done your homework once this year. That and you haven't spoken to anyone. Why is that?"
Conner shrugged again.
"Is everything alright? You need to speak to people."
He swiftly turned his head back and forth. In his mind, he desperately wanted to speak, but it was though his mouth was sewn shut by string made of obsidian, unable to break free. He was able to sense the disappointment in his teacher's body language. She was crossing her arms and giving off a sinister look that he knew all too well.
"Just leave him be, Mrs.Samolia" one student yelled out. "He will never speak. He's a waste of time."
"Maybe you're right Victor" Mrs.Samolia replied. "Speak on your own time Conner, but when you do, maybe we won't even listen."
Conner began silently weeping in his seat. He felt truly embarrassed, but was unable to do anything. He refused to speak. Didn't want to write anything. He did not speak at all. He looked around and noticed nearly half the students staring him down, making taunting gestures. He placed his head back down and released tears that formed a river on to his desk.
"Ok class. Today we are learning the Pythagorean identities."
She continued to talk and carry on with her lesson, but Conner just sat there, blocking all signs of sound out. He class continued as it would. Students answered question that were given to them, then completed a worksheet. It was about time to go over the worksheet, which Conner had not yet started. They began going over it, getting each question correct until they reached number 8.
"Conner" Mrs.Samolia called out, clearly trying to exploit more reasons to send him to the office. "Would you care to answer number 8?"
He stared down at his worksheet that was unfinished and absorbed some of his tears. The question said, "What trigonometric functions are positive in quadrant 3?" He knew the answer, for the answer was tangent and cotangent. He looked up towards the teacher, and, like usual, said nothing. No gesture saying he knows the right answer. No sound coming from his mouth. Nothing.
"It is tangent and cotangent" a random, female student yelled out.
"Well done Allison. At least someone is paying attention." She wagged her finger at Conner, signaling that he is wanted.
Not knowing what she wanted, he stood up and walked to her desk. As he arrived, she was writing something on a small piece of paper. She handed it to Conner gently, with what seemed like the look of a clown, taunting him and filling him with more despair than he already had,
"Go down to the guidance counselor's office now. I will call down and make sure they are aware of your arrival."
He glanced down at the paper. It was a hall pass with Mrs.Samolia's signature and his destination written on it. He nodded his head and walked out of the door. The hallway was long and wide with grey and black lockers lining up against the walls. There was at least ten more classroom within that hallway. He kept walking until he approached a set of stairs that took him to the main floor of the school. He pushed open the bright red doors and walked down the marble staircase.
"Where are you going?" another teacher said as he exited the stairs. Conner walked over to the teacher and revealed his pass to him. "Alright. Get going. No detours or you will be having a meeting with the principal."
Conner still said nothing and carried on to the guidance office. Once he entered, he was greeted by the secretary. He revealed his pass to her and she pointed to a lonely door on the far end of the room. He slowly opened it, hesitating and gripped by the hands of fear itself. When he walked in, a young looking lady with blond hair was sitting at her desk. She was rather tall and thin.
"Come take a seat Conner" she said with a calm and soothing voice. It was a voice that could put Conner to sleep in a matter of minutes.
He pulled out a chair that was placed on the other end of the desk and sat down.
"So your teacher just called down to me saying that you are having a hard time working in class. You haven't done a single thing within that class and you never talked once. You have written very few words on pieces of paper, but that suddenly came to a stop and you haven't written since. Can you please explain to me as to why all of this is happening?"
Conner sat there in silence and shook his head in the same manner he did with Mrs.Samolia. He began shaking once again, feeling the firm hands of fear on his shoulders even more than he had when he walked in.
"Are you going to say anything at all?"
He still shook his head.
"You are being very uncooperative right now Conner. Is it maybe because you don't know me? Well, I am Ms.Pentarilia. Currently single because I am busy with other things. This is my only job and I have worked here for about five years now. Does knowing me more make it easier for you to talk to me?"
He still shook his head. The next bell rang. He hadn't even realized that time had gone so fast.
"Get back to class" Ms.Pentarilia said with a now devilish tone compared to the calming voice she once possessed. "You are wasting my precious time. I can't help you if you refuse to help yourself. Now get out of here."
He leapt out of his seat and sprayed more tears. These tear spoke more words than Conner ever had, showing his frustration and despair built within. He exited the office, went back upstairs to grab his book back from the first class, and went to his next class. His second class was English, which he was also failing. He entered the room, which looked almost exactly the same as the first classroom, except there were less desks.
"I am going to take attendance" the teacher yelled. He had a large mustache and was bald. He seemed more muscular than any of the other teachers he had ever had. He was rather short, however, which didn't really seem to match his appearance. He began calling everyone's names. First was Victor, who was the kid in his first class. Then he went back down the list and called Conner, so he raised his hand to let him know he is present.
"What're we doing today?" Victor asked. "I assume we have to talk during today's class."
"You would be correct. Hopefully you all decide to cooperate with me this time." He glared at Conner, which caused the rest of the class to turn towards him as well. This caused, once again, a warm hand of fear to cover his mouth this time. He was never actually able to see this hand, but he definitely felt it. It terrified him to no end.
"I have a feeling Conner wants to say something, Mr.Yarmen" a student within the class pointed out, taunting him and pressuring him to speak.
The thing is, Conner did want to speak. It is all he has ever wanted to do, but he can't. He won't. He's scared, for in his mind, speaking brings death to all those around him, including himself. He refuses to let that happen, so he never spoke back. He was forbidden by his own morals to speak, except maybe they weren't his own morals.
"What did you say, Conner?" Mr.Yarmen asked, even though Conner hadn't spoken a single word. This was his form of trying to get him to speak. Pressuring him and making his feel obligated to reply. However, he never did. He sat there in silence, waiting for time to pass. "Fine. I guess you won't repeat what you said. I will carry on with the class with or without you."
The class gave off an aggravated sigh and directed their attention towards the teacher, who was now writing vocabulary terms on the board. The first term he wrote was rising action, meaning the point in a story that builds more tension and thickens the plot based around the main character or other characters.
Conner wanted to get out of the class as quickly as possible, but he was not one to just simply bolt out of the class. He was an obedient kid and stuck around though the class. It was difficult to listen. The teacher would keep calling on Conner, even though he would never give an answer. This kept occurring for the rest of class until the next bell went off. This bell was the lunch bell, so he got up, took his books back to his locker, and went to lunch.
The second Conner enters the lunch room, he faces a difficult choice. Well, difficult to him. Not so difficult to others. He questions on if he wants to get in line for food, or go without eating and sit down, by himself, like usual. He chose what would be the more difficult outcome and decides not to eat and just sit down. He placed his hands on his temples and stared down at the brown, wooden table. People began crowding around him and it began getting uncomfortable due to what inappropriate language the other students were using. Despite that, he still refused to talk. Refused to tell them to leave him alone, but even if he did, there is nowhere else to go. Every spot in the cafeteria was filled. Some students even had to stand up and eat because there were no spots.
"What is that guy's deal?" said one of the students sitting around Conner, attempting to whisper quietly so he didn't hear, but he still heard.
"I have no idea."
"Maybe he has an extremely awkward speech impediment."
"I think he is just a loner and a coward."
The words said were just a little too much for Conner to handle. He got out of his seat and bolted out of the cafeteria, going unnoticed by the lunch ladies. He rushed as fast as he could to his next class, which was psychology. He knocked on the door and a tall, black haired and skinny lady responded to the knocks. His teacher, Mrs.Mayone, was standing right in front of him with the concerned look she always gives him.
"Aren't you supposed to be in lunch?" Mrs.Mayone asked.
Conner didn't respond with words, but he knew that she was good at reading people. She can easily explain the thoughts of anyone she makes eye contact with.
"A bunch of students around you kept whispering rude things about you?"
Conner nodded and teared up a little from sadness. He felt so alone, except for this teacher, who was the only person he knows that can honestly make an effort to help him. But he often wondered if that was enough. If just her help will actually make him feel better, if she succeeds in helping at all.
"Just ignore them. I am sure that there is a valid reason as to why you are always mute. People just have to learn and accept that. They need to stop taking advantage of you and actually try to help. Now come in. We can get started on the lesson early."
Conner revealed the faintest of smiles when she said that. A smile so faint you'd have to pay extremely close attention to it in order to find it. He entered the room and sat in his assigned seat, staring at the board and waiting for the lesson to begin. Psychology was currently the only class he was doing well in. That is because of two specific reasons. That Mrs.Mayone actually cared for Conner, and that he wishes to later help people with their internal struggles.
Mrs.Mayone began with today's lesson. It was about reading body language and what each sign can represent. She first started with the twitching of the eye. That when someone twitches their eye when something is said, it often shows that the person is lying. Then she moved to the direction the nose is pointing, which often shows the truth. Conner often wondered during these lessons if they would come in use for him soon, but he doubted it. The lunch bell rang once again, and within a very short amount of time, students began rushing into the class. Victor was the first one in. Thankfully for Conner, he sits on the opposite end of class from him. That sadly never stopped the torment that brewed within the class period. Another upsetting thing for Conner was that Victor was in every one of his classes. He just wanted this class and the next class to be done and over with, then he can go home.
"Alright class" she began. "Today we are learning about body movement and what they can represent."
Conner already heard this lesson, so he placed his head down and took a nap. During his nap, he had a terrifying dream. He was in a dark room with nothing but his mom and what seemed to be a destroyed truck in the distance. The truck was on fire and blood poured out of the driver's seat. Coming out of the door was a limp and pale hand that was holding a diamond ring. Around the ring it said, "Best mom ever." The sight of this made Conner want to scream, but he refused to speak, even in his dreams. Suddenly, his mother appeared right in front of him with a missing right hand. She stared at his with the most psychotic smile she could ever give. Then he lost the ability to breathe. A crippled and wrinkled hand was shown covering his mouth, preventing any air from entering his body.
"Don't speak" his mother said as she look off towards the wrecked truck. "Don't speak. Don't speak. Don't speak." Then he woke up.
When Conner woke up, not even a gasp left his mouth, but he rushed his head from off his desk. Once again, he felt the hand of fear. This time touching his throat. It wasn't holding it enough to choke him out, but it still scared him.
"Is everything alright, Conner?" Mrs.Mayone asked with genuine concern. "It's the end of class, so there is nothing to worry about anymore."
Conner began crying once again. He always was an extremely sensitive guy. He definitely did not plan on going to his final class. He couldn't take being in the school any longer. On that note, once the bell rang, instead of going to his class, he placed his books in his locker and began to quietly walk out of the school. He managed to make it out without anyone spotting him, so that made him somewhat proud. He began walking home, which was quite the distance away. About a two hour walk, but he still look his chances.
As he walked down the streets, away from the school, a light drizzle began to form. It was quiet. Really quiet. The drizzle didn't make a sound. The only sound heard were cars driving on the streets. Horns roared as he continued walking through the town. The only people he saw were the ones driving the cars, until two approached him. They seemed rather ferocious with their redneck appearance. The first guy was buff and tall. He looked as if he worked out every second of every day. He had the stereotypical spiked collar around his neck, and so did the other one. His hair was in shape of a small Mohawk.
"You're in our way punk" said the first redneck. "Say you're sorry and beat it."
Conner still remained silent and nervous. He was prepared for what was about to occur, but wasn't at the same time.
"You heard the man" said the second redneck, whose looks were almost identical to the others. "Say sorry right now or we will beat the crap out of you."
He really wanted to say sorry. He desperately wanted to, but couldn't. He was trying not to scream as loud as he can for help. He was still so scared of what would happen if he said just one word.
"Alright kid. That's it." They two rednecks simultaneously punched Conner. One fist to the face and the other to the cut. This brought Conner down to the ground and the continued to kick him. However, he still refused to speak. Even though he is ruthlessly being beaten, he refuses to speak a single word. He just embraced the pain like he has for the past year and a half. Suddenly, a car's headlights were shining on the three. A tall man, who looked like he just came back from an office job, stepped out of the car and walked over to the boys.
"I would suggest you two leave the child alone right now" said the man.
"What'll you do about it?" said the first redneck, showing no signs of fear at all.
Without hesitation, the unknown man pulled out a gun and pointed it straight at the two. Within sight of the gun, the two rednecks turned from fierce lions to cowardice cats. The instantly bolted down the street to avoid being shot. The man walked up to a beaten Conner.
Conner was filled with gratitude, but he still refused to say anything to the man.
"Come on up child" the man said, grabbing Conner's hand and lifting him up. "I will take you home."
As Conner stepped into the passenger seat of the car, the man began driving. Conner directed with his finger which way to go. After maybe 20 minutes, they arrived at Conner's house. It was rather large, but looked like it had been abandoned since it was built. It was a two story house with an attic window peering out the front. Mold grew on the sides and the lawn looked like it hadn't been cut since the Earth had formed. The house was supposed to be white, but due to the mold, it turned an extremely light green.
"We're here" the man said as he pulled up across from the house. He put the car in park and unlocked the doors.
Conner still hadn't said anything to him. Not even his name. He opened the car door and stepped out. He showed an expression of gratitude and thankfulness in form of a small bow.
"Have a good day kid. Go in there and give your mother a hug."
Conner felt the hand of fear again as the man drove off and he faced the house. By now school has ended and students were getting out, so he shouldn't get in trouble for being home early. He trembled as he walked up to the house's door, terrified to enter. His hand became it's own earthquake as he reached for the doorknob. Twisting it, he felt cold. Like the breath of a frost giant was being forcefully blown on to his face, freezing him on the spot. He turned the handle all the way and opened the door. The first thing he saw as he walked into his house was his mother playing with a toy truck.
"Time to go and get the ring" his mother said, clearly putting the voice into the truck as though it was actually speaking. His mom has short, brown hair and glasses. She was rather large and tall. Taller than Conner. She was wearing a shirt that said, "Watch all accidents." on the shirt was painted on a truck. She was clearly delusional. "I need to get my boy the nice, shiny ring for him to give to who he says he will give it to."
Conner just watched in fear. This isn't the first he had seen this, and he knows it won't be the last unless something changes. He walked further and further into the house, sitting on the couch in silence. His mother turned her head around to stare at him. This made him jump a little bit as though a major jumpscare occured in a popular horror movie.
"How was school Conner?" his mother asked eerily. "Why are you so injured?"
Conner forced himself to stay quiet. He did not want to talk, but he knew it was a useless effort, for his mother believed he was a talker.
"I said no talking" his mom yelled as the hand of fear itself slapped him across the face. Conner hadn't even said a word, but she was so far gone that she wasn't able to tell. She was angry and out of control. "Because of your talking you got my husband killed. You just had to tell him to go and get that ring for you to give to someone. If you hadn't said anything, he wouldn't have been in that accident. It is your fault. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault."
Conner began crying, for he knew it was true in his mind. He wanted to believe it wasn't his fault, but he couldn't bring himself to do that. His mind was tainted with these false accusations. Sure, he did ask his dad to get the ring for him, and he did get it, but at the cost of his life. He still had the ring, too. It was in his room in a secret compartment under his bed. Conner's stomach began roaring. He had just remembered he didn't eat anything yet today.
"You want food?" his mom said. "Well you'll get food. Once you shut up for once. Now get upstairs. I am making burgers."
Conner, still releasing a waterfall from his eyes, dashed upstairs before anything else had happened. Upon entering his room, he looked at his phone that was on the nightstand. He wasn't allowed to bring it to school because he feel's texting is a form of talking. He had no use for it. At least not until today where he wanted things to change. He looked out of his room at the attic across the hall. He smiled and grabbed his phone, the ring, and another object that he didn't bother indentifying. He just grabbed it and went upstairs.
"That kid needs to shut up" his mom said as she stood up. She kicked the toy truck away as hard as possible, having it bash against the wall and smashing into many small pieces. It turns out there was a small action figure in the driver's seat that fell out of the truck on impact. Two of the wheels fell off while plastic representing the window popped out of the truck. "You have to be kidding me. This is a new truck." He let out a sigh and went to the kitchen to cook burgers. "One day that kid will learn. He better."
About 20 minutes had passed while she was making the burgers. She heard nothing from upstairs, which made her relieved. She grabbed her food and sat at the table, not even bothering calling Conner down to tell him food is ready. She intended to let him starve. She took her first bite, which tasted perfect. Granted, in her mind, she never does anything wrong. After the next three bites, she heard knocking on the front door.
"Who on Earth could that be? I know we aren't supposed to be getting any visitors." She stood up, leaving half the burger behind, and approached the door. She stuck on eye in front of the peephole and say a tall man standing at the entrance. He was wearing a police outfit and had a clearly real gun, so she knew intsantly this wasn't a joke. She opened the door confidentiality, for she believed she didn't do anything wrong. "Hello officer. What brings you here today?"
"We've recieved and urgent phone call about a major emergency going on at this house that we must investigate. May I please enter?"
"Of course. Come on in, but I will have you know that there is nothing dangerous going on here." At least that is what she believed.
The officer checked all of downstairs, but saw nothing. Then he went upstairs, and still saw nothing in the hall or anyone's bedroom. He finally approached the door to the attic, unhooked the chain from the top of the door, and opened it up.
"I'm telling you. Nothing is going on here."
"That's not what we were told. Now stay quiet and follow me."
The mother felt instulted that he would tell her to stay quiet. She didn't even believe that it was hypocritical to be mad over that given that she tells Conner to stay quiet all the time, even when he's not speaking.
They both slowly walked up the attic stairs and turned the corner to a sight most devestating. So traumatic. It is something that even made the mother's jaw drop. The cops stood there in complete shock over what he was seeing. The sight that they were both staring at was Conner's dead body. He had hung himself from the neck. No marking were shown on his neck, showing he wanted this and that there was no struggle.
"Oh my god" the cops said as he began shedding a few tears. He looked around and noticed 3 objects on the floor. The first was a cell phone. It showed that the recent call was to 911. The second was a diamond ring, shining brighter than it had ever shined before. Carefully polished and kept at it's former glory. The third and final object was a voice recorder with a tape inside. The cop picked it up and pressed the start button, and was scared to hear what he was about to hear.
"If anyone is hearing this, then you'll find I am dead" said Conner through the voice recorder. His voice was so majestic. It was a beautiful song on it's own without the intend to be a song. The voice was so soothing and calming that it can put the most sleep resistant person to sleep in a matter of minutes. "No one accepted me. My mom never accepted me once dad died. She blamed it on me and told me that if i talk anymore, then more people around me will die. I didn't want that, so i never spoke a single word for the next year and a half. That is, however, until now. She would hit me for talking, even when I never talked. I refused to speak about it. I would never. I now realize that was a mistake. So, I want anyone who is going through anything like this to speak up about it. Seek help. I don't want anyone to go through what I went to. And by the way, mother. That ring was a gift for you. I never gave it to you because i was scared, so here you go. You can have it now. Goodbye."
This recording brought tears upon tears to the cops eyes, while it made the mother happy. Not happy that the ring was for her or anything, but happy that he was done talking for good.
"Maybe next time you'll learn to stop speaking when I tell you to" the mother yelled psychotically, forgetting that the cops was standing directly beside her. "You deserved everything you got. All those slaps and solitude. You better stay gone."
"Get on the ground!" the officer yelled while crying. "Now!"
The mother did what he asked, now rememebering he was there. She placed her hands behind her head before he told her to. She was crying from fear of being arrested, but still happy that Conner was dead. The cop placed his handcuffs around her wrists and made sure she could not escape. He knelt down and looked at her in the eyes before taking her to jail.
"You have the right to remain silent."
Author Notes: This is a story not based on my life, but it is meant for any people who go through issues similar to this, or anything at all, that are scared to speak up about. Do not stay quiet and just speak to someone. You will find someone who will be there for you. I am sure of it.
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