Road To Happiness ✔

TWO

Hugo awoke in a cold sweat the next morning, the memories of his nightmare slowly fading away. The blood and the noise were still clear in his mind and every time he closed his eyes, flashes of moss green eyes haunted him. He knew from the second he'd woken that it wasn't going to be a good day.

He knew the second later that was going to have to go to class anyway. His father muttered curse words when something clattered to the floor in the kitchen. If Hugo wasn't changed and in the loungeroom in fifteen minutes, his father would be in his room to force him to get up. Hugo wasn't in the mood for his father's words and his expectation of a reply and got out of bed with a groggy sigh.

His father raised an eyebrow at him when he eventually stumbled into the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. They had the same blue eyes and blonde hair that stuck up at odd angles, but Hugo had his mother's soft face and pale skin. Freckles dotted his cheeks in a messy pattern and ran the length of his button nose. Both his parents used to remark that it was like looking in a mirror.

"Good morning," his father said. Hugo signed his response, his hands sloppy with sleep.

His father said nothing else, only watched as Hugo poured himself a cup of coffee and sipped at it like it was something sent from the gods. His books and laptop were already packed in his bag, ready for his class. He had two to go to, one a lecture, the other a short tutorial class.

"What time will you be home tonight?" his father asked.

Hugo met his sharp gaze. "The same time as usual," he replied, putting his mug on the bench so he could sign properly. His father had a bad habit of talking to him when he had his hands full as if that would make him start talking again.

His father sighed and Hugo dreaded whatever words were to spill from his mouth. "One day I hope you will speak again," his father said. His eyes dropped to the dirty tiles. Hugo would have to clean those too. "You don't need to be so silent. You won't get very far in life without talking, you know that."

He'd gotten pretty far already without speaking. He wasn't going to start now. He didn't tell his father that though, it would only start a fight. It wasn't as bad as it usually was, but it still annoyed him to no end. The anger was like fire in his gut. His father hadn't been there, he hadn't seen what Hugo had seen. If he had, then he would understand why he didn't talk, perhaps he would be mute too.

His father sighed again and ran a hand down his wrinkling face. There had been a time, when Hugo was young, that his father had looked youthful and handsome. Now, he looked tired and worn. Hugo could imagine that he looked the same. He knew of the purple bags under his eyes that had become a permanent feature of his face. How much older did he look?

He waved goodbye to his father, who barely spared a glance at him in return. He probably didn't hear him. It wasn't just Hugo's voice that had grown quiet, everything he did had as well. His steps were almost silent. There were mornings where his father jumped when he walked into the room.

Headphones in ears once again, Hugo took the busy train and got off at the station not far from the university campus. People crushed against him as they filed down the busy paths and drifted into lecture halls and classrooms. The tiny space he had and the constant pushes and shoves from people around made his heart flutter and his stomach ache with uneasiness. He should have stayed home, but he wasn't in the mood for the fight that would come with it.

He breathed in loudly when he was finally able to get more than a meter of personal space. He stood outside the lecture hall and ignore the strange looks a few of the people sitting around gave him. If they'd been out there, they would have understood. With a shake of his head, he walked into the hall and blanched.