Non-stop •Mute Alex•

Alexander

A/N: I apologize for the chapters seeming rushed, I'm just trying to type as fast as I can and get some content out there so people won't see the story and be like 'oh only one chapter it's not fully developed or even good’ so like.. iDk

Co-written by OwlWithAHat

There aren't chapter names as you can clearly see. Just the name of the character the pov is in..

*The sentence that his dad says: You can be my daughter no more than she can be my wife. Goodbye.*

*What he says: calm down, chin up, and be happy.*

I'm trying to incorporate more French into this because he was apparently fluent in French, so I apologize if Google translate isn't on point.

All of this is obvious you can just skip most of my author's notes :.C

*°• I apologize that the chapters are getting shorter and shorter I have no excuse•°*

*More backstory*
After the hurricane, nothing was the same. We had to move to another house on a different island in the Caribbean. The only way to cope with it was writing. I wrote and I wrote until I couldn't feel my hand. When I read it over, it looked like perfect literature for a nice poem. Once I was done, I went to bed.

****

When I woke up, it was gone. I panicked. All of my feelings from the last 5 years were in there: how I felt when Usnavi was checked into the hospital from self harm, how my parents had been fighting for a number of years once I turned 5, how I didn't feel comfortable in my own body and how I wanted to be different so badly.

I had intended on throwing it away, but it was gone, and I know who took it. I crept down the stairs to listen to my parents argue, but this time it was about me. My father was planning on leaving, and intended to take me with him so he could ‘fix’ my way of thinking. My mother wouldn't have it. There was screaming and table banging on both ends until I made myself known.

“How long have you known about this feeling?” He asked.

“A couple years or so…” I said quietly, “I'm just not comfortable being a girl anymore. I should be happy like James, we had the same treatment, but I was always sad. I thought it was because of my body. It's been since then."

“So it's your brother's fault!” He screamed.

“No! Don't hurt him!” I screamed as he walked up the stairs.

He threw his door open and throttled the poor boy. "Do you know what you've done to my daughter?!!"

"W-what's he talking about Alexa?" He put my brother down and went to punch him, but stopped mid air. There was silence for a few minutes, and then my father walked down the hall to his room to pac his bags.

“Dad, please don't go!”

He looked back and said quietly, “Vous pouvez être ma fille pas plus qu'elle ne peut être ma femme. Au Revoir.” And with that, he closed the door.

Alexander's P.O.V
Jefferson's words kept floating around in my head. What does he know? I just got here and he can't hate me, I've never spoken a word to the guy. Well, to be fair I've never spoken a word to anyone at the school.

Ugh, if only he knew how much pain that really caused me. This morning, the hospital called Usnavi and told him that my mother had passed. I told Mr. Washington that I had lost her through a note. Jefferson must have found out from someone… but no one else knows anything.

If only I had punched him. Sure I would have probably gotten pulled out of school, but I've already missed so much. In that case, I guess it's better I didn't do anything.

All these thoughts flooded my head as I walked home. I looked at my new house that I've lived in for four years, and James was sitting on the front step, head in his hands. I walk up to him and awkwardly pat his back.

“Was… was sh-she happy when she..?” I nodded my head and hugged him around the shoulders. A small tear slipped from one of his eyes.

The rest of the night was sort of awkward. Since James was home, I didn't know what to do. “I’m sorry I'm never around.. “ he apologized. “I-i just feel like I have a responsibility over the family, you know? And even though all we have left is Usnavi, we can still be happy, right?” I listened intently to what he was saying. “I'm at a loss of words, but I'm sure you'd have a lot to say if.. “

“If I spoke?” My voice sounded hoarse as it protruded from my throat.

“Yeah.” It came out as a whisper, “If only you spoke.”

‘I do speak’ I thought, 'just through actions.’ He looked so vulnerable, I can honestly say I haven't seen him like this since the disaster on Nevis. And I never want to see him like this again.

I walk away to the kitchen to start dinner. Macaroni and cheese was one of the only things I know how to make, but I made it damn good. By the time it was done, James was walking into the house. He must still be thinking, he looked distant as he sat at the dining room table.

“Calmez-vous, le menton vers le haut, et soyez heureux” I said. That's what mom always said to soothe our emotions and nerves. It always worked for me, but it usually takes a little more for James. I set the plate in front of him and went to my room, where I intended to sleep until the emotions went away.