Silent Beast | ✓

chapter one .histoires.

-+- stories -+-

I am a lone oak tree.

That can't say a single word.

But every second of silence

spoke for me.

My parents were overly worried about my future and I. A year of no words, a year of depression had clawed its way through my relationship with my family. Every question asked, every remark said seemed to hit a wall. Only they didn't know that I listened. I pondered every thought, I wanted to tell them I loved them but I had no strength to face the fear within me. I couldn't love again.

It was a day in June when my dad decided that something had to be done. He drove me to a brown, brick building which stood tall like me without saying a single word. Leafy, green vines crawled around it, squeezing the dear life out of it. Stepping out of the car and walking into the building which read, 'Psychiatry Building,' made my heart pound louder. I tugged at my dad's sleeve, hoping that he'd turn back around and take me to the library. He shook his head and stared right ahead, walking beside me. The clean white walls were covered with paintings which seemed to have been made by little kids. The smell of hospitals hung in the air with laughter I could hear from far away. Crossing a glass bridge which connected to another building led us to where my dad had wanted to take me. Pots of flowers stood mighty and tall, a leafy green contrasting with the peachy colored walls. The light seemed to be getting brighter at the other end, the entrance to a new building.

A kid in a wheelchair with no hair rolled up to me, giggling. He held out a balloon for me which said, 'Smile please.' The obnoxious yellow smiley face seemed to be everywhere in the building. I took the balloon and kneeled down, so I could see the kid eye-to-eye. I held the kid's face in my hands and swiped the pad of my thumb to wipe a tear that fell. At that moment, I felt grateful for everything in my life; my dad, my mom, everyone and everything. It must be so hard to picture the many ways they could possibly end up in a hospital. My heart tugged and I wanted to say something, but I resisted it as much as possible. I felt a small tug at my sleeve.

"We have to go honey." My dad said, shuffling around.

I looked back the kid for the last time, hoping that the wheelchair wasn't going to be something he was going to be bound to forever. We walked further down the hallway and came across the visitor's center. The brown letters that were etched into a sign that hung above the lady named Shelby seemed to parallel with the brown ink of the smiley face that were painted at different angles, all over the long, winding hallways.

"Hello Shelby, here's my daughter that I was talking about."

I looked to the fiery red-haired lady who gave me a heartfelt smile. Her unseemingly cooperating red hair was all held together with a chopstick. Her eyeliner was a thick wing, with much of her face caked with concealer which seemed to fold in with her wrinkles. "Hello Belle, welcome to the pediatric unit. Let me lead you to someone who you could interact with." As we followed Shelby, I looked at my dad, confused at what his idea was.

He cleared his throat and took my hands into his. "Honey, I thought maybe that if you could sit down with some kids here, you could learn something new."

It was then when I realized how much of a burden I was to my family. A tear escaped my eyes which I quick wiped away with the back of my hand. I could only think, I'm sorry dad.

Shelby stood uncomfortably in her pointy, red stilettos, but finally broke the silence. "Belle, dear, I'd like you to meet Adam. Adam, this is Belle."

At that moment, Adam was any ordinary boy, but we shared so much in common even though this boy was quite different. His long, dark brown hair was long overdue for a haircut, covering half his forehead and was slightly past his ears. His striking blue eyes held my gaze for a long while. I could tell by the coldness of his eyes, he didn't speak much. He held out a slip of paper which I took, but allowing my hand to linger for the longest second hoping that this was all a dream. Within a year, I lost my closest friends who gave me many opportunities to talk to them. They knocked on my door, walked with me to my classes, and spoke to me even as I didn't answer them. It wasn't long before they became the people that stared at me and whispered when I walked into school.

After Shelby and dad walked back to the visitor center, I unfolded the slip of paper, under the intense gaze of Adam's stare.

And there were three words. The three words that changed my entire life.

I can't speak.

I looked back up at Adam, with my jaw unhinged. He sent a smile my way, setting my heart on fire, a feeling I haven't felt in a year. I gaped at the thought of me finally being able to tell someone my feelings. I took out my notepad and a pen. Taking a minute, I folded my message and handed it to him.

Glad to know I'm not alone.

He took a step towards me with my open note and took a hold of my hand. With a smile still etched across his face, he swept me away like a prince. We ran down the hallways and into a small room where the hospital beeping was faint. His smile faltered, but I followed his sight to a small vulnerable girl who slept peacefully with different wires hooked up to her. The heart monitor held a steady 'beep-beep' and a consistent wave of life. A small painting of a beach hung on the wall with a large balcony open to the surrounding sight of the Atlantic Ocean. With a small closet in the corner and a vulnerable soul lying in the hospital bed, the hospital room seemed to be missing love. This was the moment when I realized that facing my fear didn't mean I had to fall in love; I had to feel it and when I saw the broken girl on the bed, I felt it. A tear slipped out and plopped onto the hospital bed. I hadn't even realized that I walked over to her side. He handed me a note which read:

She's my sister. She's only 6.

I looked at Adam and it felt like I was finally stretching the sorest of muscles when I smiled for the first time in the longest time. He led me to other rooms where I listened to different cancer stories. The pediatric cancer unit was one that was filled with magic and hope. Wishes were made and miracles happened at the most unimaginable moments. Anything and everything seemed possible; almost every kid was smiling and laughter seemed to be inevitable. Every story I heard that day, were within the scope of every fairytale story I've heard. They didn't need a prince to save them, they just needed love.

"You don't lose hope, love. If you do, you lose everything." ~Mrs. Potts

And this boy was the reason I was able to face my fears. But, I didn't have to do it alone. A spark seemed to ignite within me, a flare of hope that I could possibly face my fear. See, I didn't need a Gaston stalking me or a village full of people in my life to convince me to get out of reading books everyday. Adam's written silence enraptured the special moments of my life with him.