Lost in an Unknown World

Chapter 4: Viola March 11th, 2017

Weekends are the only time that I see my "Dad." He's the only person that seems to bring some sort of comfort to me in this strange and uncertain world. Maybe it is his soft voice, calm and gentle as he annunciates each syllable- wait no, why does that sound so poetic. It's not that deep, I promise. I think he's just more genuine than Morana.

So, here's the thing. I don't like any of Morana's food, as I've already established, and I certainly do not care for her breakfast burritos. I exaggerate choking on one small bite, which causes "Dad" to look up from his phone, clearly concerned. Morana interjects before he can say anything.

"Your doctor has cleared you to go back to school next week," she smiles tensely, doing that fake grimace that she fronts.

My eyes widen as I drop the burrito to my plate, the jarring yellow of the egg alongside the mixed bell peppers that look like vomit, spilling out all over it. My emotions are all over the place; I'm not sure how to feel. I get to interact with real life teenagers, kids my own age that I might possibly be able to relate to.

The one issue. I can't speak.

I can easily conjure up sentences in my mind, but as soon as I put them into my mouth they won't come out. That literally makes no sense. Anyway, I have been allowed to go on twenty-minute walks every day, so basically the only high in a twenty-four-hour period. 2pm is the time. I can barely contain my excitement. And no, Morana was not too enthralled by this arrangement, but reluctantly agreed.

Spring is now beginning to show within nature, the light pink of the blossom trees popping amongst the bleak sidewalk, situated on the outskirts of the busy road. About a block away, I notice a cozy little coffee shop, the aroma of homemade sweetness enticing me in. I fumble around in my jacket pocket, hoping that I find several dollars. Gripping a piece of sturdy metal, I pull out a two-dollar coin. When studying it closer, I find an oddly detailed puzzle piece drawn out on one side, my eyes locking onto the intricacy and care that that this must have taken, not to mention the complexity of it.

The place is close to empty, only a young couple is situated at the back booth, with a girl about my age that appears to be serving them their drinks. She has this messy-but-cute look going on, dirty blond hair that is pulled into a messy bun, with a natural face featuring nothing other than a coat of mascara. She casually waves upon noticing my entrance while offering to help me over at her till.

I begin to panic, unsure how the hell I'm supposed to communicate without spoken words. Glancing over to my right, I see a mini stool with a collection of pens and sticky notes. I hastily grab one of each before making my way over to the girl, where I catch a closer look at the menu. I hastily write down that I want just a twelve-ounce black coffee; yes, I'm weird like that and dislike milk or cream.

She reads over my order, then clocks my name in the left-hand corner. "Viola? You're Morana's stepdaughter, right?" I roll my eyes will a small smile and nod, before she responds, "Ahh, the paper makes sense now. She told me that you don't speak. Sorry, that sounds so wrong, I didn't mean it like that."

Her face starts to flush, and she proceeds to tell me that Morana is apparently a regular here. She also lets me know that her name is Bella, and that in two days, we will be going to the same school. That's a relief to know that I might not be totally alone in a crowd of a thousand kids all packed into a relatively tiny building.

But, besides the wishy-washy conversation, I detect a strange feeling about Bella. Not in a bad way, I just feel like I know her from somewhere, if that even makes sense. I guess you could match it to Deja-vu or something along that wavelength. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense, she only moved here last September, and I was still in a coma during that time. It honestly could be that she reminds me of one of the many "friends" that I had before the accident, because according to Morana, I was popular. It sounds so cringy, but yet so powerful at the same time. You know, I suppose that being somewhat notorious is the closest that one could get to being famous.

The only way that I can keep in contact with Bella is through my stupid flip phone, although I question why I can't just own a regular cell like everyone else. I motion that I have to get back, as I realise that I have been out for sixteen minutes. She waves goodbye, yelling over top of the playing indie music that we'll talk soon.

As I'm briskly walking down the street, I notice a borough of clouds, similar to the recent ones at the hospital. The thunder sends an echoing jolt to the spine, erupting upwards through the ground, which initiates my heart to beat a little bit faster. I calm myself by internally joking that the universe is mad at me. What for, I could not say.

The rest of my day is pretty boring, until I get to the evening. At around eight at night, I receive a text from Bella. This brings me an almost unrecognisable hit of dopamine, something that I don't think I've experienced since I've been in this world. My body immediately goes tingly and numb, when I read the short sentence: Be careful, I'll explain more on Monday.