Chapter 1: The Mute

Nasha's P.O.V. ******************************************* ~ Three Years Later ~ ******************************************* "How stupid can you be?! I ask one thing of you!" Dad shouted, then smacked me across the face. I could taste the familiar metallic taste as blood spilled into my mouth. I didn't move though. I didn't dare look up at my father, or cup my throbbing cheek. I stood very still, and waited for the rest to come. "You are to do well in school. Do you understand me?!" He shouted. I flinched. After I still didn't say anything, Dad sighed angrily. He knows I won't speak unless he gives me specific permission to. Dad has told me before not to speak without his permission. Just to make sure I knew exactly what that meant, he would start to trick me. He would ask me questions, to which my instinct was to answer before he got mad. It never mattered what I did though. Dad is always angry with me. "You may speak." He said with great irritation. "I-I understand sir." I said meekly. "Now, why did you get a B on this paper? I told you straight A's. No falling behind that. You are not going to embarrass me more than you already do!" He shouted. I only averted my eyes. "Speak!!" He boomed. I jumped. "I-I don't know. I followed all the r-rules. Th-the teacher even s-said that I had a great idea. H-he told me th-that there were a few grammar errors, a-and that I-I should have done more data research." I told him. God, I'm so scared to talk to him, my voice shook the whole time. He's going to be angry about that. Not to mention my excuse. None of that was reason enough for him. Hell, nothing I would have said would have been a good reas- Smack! Dad hit me across the face again, much harder this time. The same cheek too. I felt my lip split open even more. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the tears to just stay back for now. He hates seeing me cry, it only makes him angrier. Everything I do makes Dad angry. "That's not a fu.cking excuse!" He shouted. Then he smacked me again on the other side of my face. "This happens again, and I'll break bones. You're lucky you only got a B this time. You remember what happened last time you got a C." He said lowly. My body started to tremble. The last time I brought something home other than an A, was last year in science class. It was for a group project. My partners were a bad boy that rarely ever came to class, and a popular girl who told me I could do it by myself. So, I did do it by myself. My grade came down because the teacher said that if any of the group members didn't participate, all of our grades would go down. So, while I did all the work, and got a C... They did nothing, and still got the same grade. They got passing scores, and I got my left wrist broken. It didn't even just end there. Dad went on and one while he beat me about how I'm already an embarrassment to him, I can't be stupid too. He didn't take me to the hospital for two whole days after. Then he forced me to tell the nurses that I had been mugged and beaten up. Dad is a very well-known lawyer. Everyone assumed he was taking care of things with the police. After we had gotten home, I wasn't allowed to eat for three days. Taking the pain meds for my wrist with no food caused me to become really weak and fatigued. I fell asleep in class, and it started a whole new uproar. It was one of the worst times in my life, and considering what I got through on a daily basis... That's saying something. "I know you understand, so no need for you to speak." Dad said as he straightened his tie. "I'm going out tonight. I won't be home at all. I expect the place to be shining when I get back tomorrow evening. I want dinner ready for me too," he said. I nodded. "Oh, and also," Dad said. "No food for three days. That's your punishment for your grades. Do not let it happen again." He said dangerously. I nodded frantically, and squeezed my eyes shut. Is this really my life? How much longer do I have to endure this? It's painful. I hate it. And I'm scared.. ***************************************** "Miss Davis, can you answer that for us?" The teacher asked me. "Oh my god, has no one told her?" A girl behind me whispered. "Well, she's a substitute. She probably doesn't know." Another girl whispered back. "Excuse me, Mrs. Jones, but uhm, Nasha doesn't speak." The first girl said out loud. Multiple kids in the class snickered. I blushed, and squirmed back in my seat. I hate this. "Uhm... oh?" Mrs. Jones replied, confused. "She's a mute." The nerdy boy in the front said flatly. "She's a freak." Another popular boy added. Everyone in the class laughed. I tried to just keep my head down. This is why Dad is always calling me an embarrassment. Looks like my father's rule of not speaking until he tells me to backfired on him. With how often he tricked me, I became too traumatized. Dad tried to order me to just speak when adults asked me questions. He had a party that very weekend, and invited many of his co-workers. Many of them asked me questions when I had brought my father his bottle of brandy. When I answered them, he beat me right in front of them. My father was so drunk that he ripped off his belt and whipped me until my shirt ripped open. I was covered in my own blood, and barely able to stand. Then I had to serve them all drinks for the rest of the night like that. Because Dad was drunk, he thought it was all in good fun. To him, it was hilarious to humiliate me. None of his friends cared either. I never spoke to anyone else after that. No one ever asked me why either. They simply accepted it, and moved on. No one ever asked if I was okay. Or what was going on. Or how I was doing. They simply just never cared. "Alright everyone, quiet down. We'll skip Miss Davis." Mrs. Jones shouted over the laughter. **************************************** "Hey Nasha," A boy said as he slid onto the bench next to me. We're in the cafeteria for lunch. I usually sit alone. No one ever bothers me. I'm not even sure what his name is. I know he's popular, and I think he plays a sport, but I couldn't say which one. I looked at him, and then back to my food. What do you want? "I'm Nick, we have second hour together," He said. Okay? "Uhm... I just always see you sitting alone, and I was wondering if I could sit with you." He said. For what? I peeked at him. He's just smiling warmly at me. I just don't understand why. Most people just avoid me. Wait, isn't he the boy that called me a freak earlier? "I'll take your silence as a yes." He said after a moment. I picked up my tray, and scooted down the bench. Only for Nick to follow me. This doesn't make any sense. "Look, I know I called you a freak earlier. I wanted to apologize for that. It wasn't right of me to say," Nick said. What? Apologize? Why would he do it in the first place? "Do you accept my apology? I know you can usually nod for yes or no, right?" He asked. I hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Right, so do you accept my apology?" He pressed. I gulped. Do I? I mean, he is being nice. I know talking to me is probably bad for his image. Plus, he did apologize. Hesitantly, I nodded my head. "Really?" Nick asked happily. I nodded again. Sure, why not? It's just an apology. He'll probably just want to have lunch today, and then he'll leave me alone. "Can I be honest with you?" He asked. I nodded, and took a bite of my sandwich. God, I've been looking forward to this all day. Today's the first day I've been able to eat since my punishment started four days ago. "As immature as it sounds... I'm always mean to you like that... Because I really like you," Nick said. I paused when I was just about to take another bite. I turned my head to look at him in shock. Me? "Uhm, I was actually wondering if you wanted to go out on a date this Friday?" He asked. I felt an intense blush creep up my neck. He wants to go on a date with me? Why? "I think you're so pretty. Your hair is such a deep red, and your eyes are such a pretty blue. I think you're gorgeous," Nick said. "Come on, say yes." I swallowed. I mean, Dad will be gone for the weekend. Maybe this could work. It's not like he's told me to stay home all day. He just wants the house clean when he gets back. Should I take this risk? Maybe I could finally find some kind of happiness in the world. A reason to smile. Okay, I think my mind's made up. I looked up at Nick with a small smile on my face, and nodded.