Chapter 4

　　What on earth was that man doing under our roof? If I never had to see him again in my life it would be too soon!!! Seriously! I didn’t want him anywhere near me. I wanted him one town over, hearing from him twice a year on my birthday and Christmas, where I didn’t need to talk to him, because he knew I didn’t talk at all. He encouraged that. He didn’t want me to speak. I don’t even think he wanted me at all to begin with. So why was he now so concerned? In the past four years I have seen his twice. Only twice! And on those occasions he had ignored me as if I didn’t even exist. Why would he want to help me now all of a sudden?

　　The knock on the door broke through the things plowing through my mind. I still wanted to walk over and open the door, but since it opened by itself I sat right back down on the top of my bed, wishing I could sink behind it and get transported into another world where I would be the only human in a world full of weird creatures who just left me alone.

　　“So you’re talking again?” dad said as he closed the door behind him and took the two steps to my bed, where he sat down and looked me in the eyes.

　　I shook my head. I wasn’t talking again dammit! I had one lousy slip or two. I didn’t want to talk to anybody, much less him.

　　“So you didn’t talk to your mother last night?” he asked.

　　How on earth was I supposed to answer that? It’s not like I had a conversation with her. I just wanted her to stop crying. To stop hurting all the time. I wanted her to smile and know that everything was okay. And look at what I did by trying to do the right thing…

　　“You know the dangers of talking. We already talked about this remember?” he whispered this time, making very sure that nobody was listening. Making sure that only I could hear.

　　Yes! I remember that night you son of a bitch! Yes, I remember why I stopped talking! Yes, I remember it all!

　　“It’s our little secret. You know you can’t tell anybody. Think of all the innocent people that would get hurt.” His eyes were mocking me. Spite rising up in them. Challenging me to say something.

　　“But now you went and ruined everything didn’t you. You talked and now you can’t stay mute anymore. You are going to have to talk. To me and to your mother. The rules are changing again, and just because you didn’t listen to me. No, you rather wanted to speak, hey, little Elijah?”

　　I wanted to smack his teeth in. I wanted my fringe straightened so that I could pull it down low over my eyes so that he could not see what I was feeling or thinking. I wanted to be anywhere but here.

　　“I want you gone.” I didn’t plan on saying it. It just slipped out. I was doing way too much of that lately.

　　“Really? You want me gone? Well, I wanted you to shut the fuck up, but obviously neither of us is getting what we wanted hey?” He crept closer to me, grabbed me by the arm and pulled me close to his face. I could smell garlic on his breath. I could see the yellow stains of nicotine on his teeth. I couldn’t take him, but I couldn’t pull away either. I was already in the corner of the bed. There was nowhere else to go.

　　“No you listen to me you little shit. You start talking to your mother and do it quickly. By tomorrow morning you will greet her and you will thank her when she does something for you, but as for the rest… You will keep your mouth shut. Not a word from your greasy little mouth, you hear. You got us into this shit and you better get us out. And as soon as I’m sure you won’t talk more than you should I will be gone. See, we can both get what we want out of this if you do what I tell you.” I could breathe the hatred that he exhaled. I wanted him to get away from me.

　　Finally, after what seemed like forever I nodded and he let me go and disappeared from the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts, which I also wanted to get as far away from me as possible. I wanted to run away from everything. I needed some Emotional Amnesia.

　　I took the blade from the little jewelry box hidden beneath my bed, and crawled over to the closet, opening it and climbing inside.

　　As the tears streamed down my face and the flesh on my arms parted to expose the life-force beneath my skin, I felt warm again. The warmth that overtook me. The physical pain that masked the emotional pain I was feeling inside. Making me forget, if only for a while, that I was hurting inside in a way that just wasn’t normal for a human being.

　　***

　　Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

　　The sound was almost irritating, waking me from my sleep. At first I thought a bird was hitting its beak against my window, but a voice that echoed my name wasn’t coming from any bird that I have ever heard of.

　　“Elijah!”

　　I got to the window and to my surprise I saw…

　　“Blake?”

　　I opened the window, and looked down at him, now looking extremely shy, as if he didn’t know what to say. I lifted my hands up, trying to motion him the question of what he wants.

　　“Come down. I have something to show you,” he said, only barely loud enough for me to hear him.

　　I shook my head. There was no way I was sneaking out of the house after some hot boy I didn’t even know.

　　“Come down or I will start singing,” Blake said, raising his head and showing me a big smile draped across his face.

　　This time I shook my head furiously, waving him away. Go home dammit!

　　“The best thing about tonight’s that we’re not fighting! Could it be that we have been this way before..!”

　　I wanted him to stop singing! I shook my head furiously. If it wasn’t just my fear that one of my parents would hear him, it was also his voice, butchering one of the most beautiful songs I have ever heard completely. He although ignored the shaking of my head as he continued to sing, now going down on one knee with his arms outstretched towards my bedroom window.

　　“I know you don’t think that I am trying! I know you’re wearing thing down to the core..!”

　　I could not take him singing another word that belonged to Secondhand Serenade.

　　“Okay! Just shut your mouth!” I cried in his direction and slammed the window shut, grabbing a pair of jeans and a hoodie, yanking it on, and darting down the stairs with my shoes still in my hands before he could start singing again.

　　What the hell was I doing? Was I really that easy to manipulate?

　　By the time I opened the door he was already standing there, a huge grin plastered to his face, his hands behind his back, apparently trying to appear as innocent as a baby.

　　“Hey Elijah,” he said, still smiling and taking me by the hand, but I motioned him to stop so that I could sit down and put my shoes on. Damn, this kid was beyond annoying. You don’t just go serenade somebody when you had such an awful voice. Seriously! It’s such a turn-off.

　　I closed the door as quietly as I possibly could behind me as I stepped out of the house. I then turned towards Blake and gave him my best what-the-fuck frown, which he met with a small laugh.

　　“Just come with me, I have something to show you!” he said and he took my hand and pulled me toward the street, half walking and half running.

　　I tried my best to slow him down, but he just kept on moving faster, until we weren’t in my street anymore. When we were a good block from my house he let go of my hand and walked toward a motorcycle standing on the side of the road, grabbing a helmet and giving it to me. I looked at him with question marks and daggers simultaneously shooting towards him.

　　“Just put it on, okay? The sooner you come with me, the sooner you can get home,” Blake said and grabbed another helmet and pulled it over his head.

　　Eager to get it over with and get back to my bed, I pulled the helmet over my head, just to find him already sitting on the motorcycle. For a spilt second I had the idea of turning around and running for all I was worth, away from this stalker-dude that would not leave me alone, but then I remembered that he was now on a bike, and there was no way I could possibly outrun that.

　　Blake motioned his hand towards me, showing me how to get on the bike, and although I could not see his face any longer behind the vizier of his helmet, I assumed that he was laughing about how stupid I was to get on a bike with a perfect stranger I have literally not even spoken a full ten words with. Still, against all my better judgment, I got on top of the bike, allowing my hands to crawl around his body and feel him start the engine.

　　Within a minute I felt the wind push against me. A feeling of flying. A feeling of being free. For the first time in a long time I didn’t want to think at all. All I wanted to do was get the helmet off my head so that I could feel the wind in my hair as I flew towards the freedom I felt building up inside of me. All the fear was gone. I didn’t feel scared or stupid, or even hurt anymore. I just felt… Free.

　　The ride was over to quickly, and it was only then that I realized that there was no way we were still in town anymore. I could not see houses, or shops, or other motorists anymore. All I could see was apple orchards around me and a dirt road leading between some trees.

　　“Hold on tight now,” I heard Blake’s voice, and I obeyed immediately as I snaked my arms tighter around his waist, my fingers touching each other, but also not being able to help myself from noticing the warmth radiating from Blake.

　　The engine roared under me again, and this time we started riding off road, and onto the dirt road. It was bumpy to say the least, and it seemed to go on forever. This time I didn’t feel free. I felt like I was going to bump off the motorcycle and break my neck. How on earth would I be able to explain that to my mother?

　　We stopped at the very top of a high hill, which looked out over the town as well as the apple orchard beneath us. Blake jumped down from the bike first and then helped me down. For a moment I felt like I wouldn’t be able to stand. My knees felt like jelly and my hands were shaking, but because of some miracle I was able to pull the helmet from my head and follow Blake towards an open spot where he sat down and looked over the lights in the distance and the stars that covered the town like a blanket of hope.

　　“What do you think of the view?” Blake asked as I sat down beside him. He turned his head my way, waiting for the answer.

　　I smiled, sure that it was answer enough. It’s not like I ever smiled, so when I smiled you had to know that it had to be something amazing I was smiling at.

　　“Not talking to me yet?” Blake asked, but without a single word I just shook my head.

　　I’m not ready to talk to you Blake. I’m not ready to talk to anybody. Everything gets weird when I start talking. Everything changes. Bad things start to happen.

　　“You know, that black cross you put over your lips. It’s like a prison. A self-created one,” he said as he turned his head to look at the view. I felt invisible, as if I was standing in a place he couldn’t see me, listening to a private conversation.

　　“I had one of those as well. A self-created prison I mean. It’s not easy to break out. We get stagnated. We get trapped. That cell we put ourselves in starts to feel like the only safe place we have left in the world.”

　　I could hear the hurt in his words. For some unknown reason I didn’t want him to feel pain. I wanted to take it away; out of his voice and out of his life. I reached for his hand but he pulled away.

　　“Every second that you spend not speaking you are depraving yourself from freedom. You are condemning yourself to a prison cell. I learned that the hard way. I’m not so different from you Elijah. I’m also broken. From afar you won’t see it, because I have been glued together, but if you stand still and look closely you will see that the cracks are still there. You’re not the only special one. You’re not the only one that feels pain. You are not the only one that thinks a prison cell will keep him safe from it.”

　　It sounded like he was crying, but I couldn’t be sure. Blake’s head was still turned away from me, looking at the view, almost like he was longing for the freedom it had to offer.

　　Blake turned to me. Quickly. He caught my eyes and I could see the tears streaking his otherwise perfect face.

　　“Talk to me Elijah.” It wasn’t a request.

　　“I can’t,” I answered. “I just… can’t.”

　　“Why not?” I could feel his hand taking a hold of my upper arm firmly. He phrased it like a question, but it was a demand.

　　I shrugged, the one thing I knew how to do in awkward situations like the one I was currently in.

　　“Dammit Elijah! It’s not going to get better unless you talk about it! Do you want to one day look back at your life and regret this moment? Do you want to grow old all alone because you were too afraid to open your mouth and talk to someone?” He wasn’t aggressive, but I could feel his grip on me tightening. Demanding me to give him the answers that I couldn’t.

　　“I want to go home Blake,” I whispered as I felt the tears burning in the back of my eyes. Knowing that he was right. Knowing that one that I would die all alone, because I was the boy who never talked.