Silence

I walk cautiously to the bathroom, breathing heavily.

What I’m about to do is risky.

I grip either side of the sink and follow my eyes up into the mirror. A tanned, messy boy looks back at me. Green eyes glistening. Tousled hair drooping. Don’t forget the freckles splashed across my face.

If I get caught, I’ll have to change my name. My face. Even my personality.

Sweat drips down my face; I’ve never been this nervous before.

Don’t think, I tell myself. Just do.

Looking back, that motto was probably the root of my problems.

Quickly and quietly, I crept up to the door and peeked out of the toilet block. My eyes lock on the man. I don’t even mean to, he just looks like a big target.

I casually stroll past the waiting zone and into the halls.

I also spy a closet.

A row of uniforms—how convenient. Even better, there’s a coat in my size.

I think you know where this is going.

Throwing the clothes on, I add a mask. My luck. No one will know, and no one will care.

Guess there’s just one thing left to do…

“Excuse me,” I ask the receptionist. “I got here a little late. Can you… err, tell me the names of the waiting patients?” I’m clearly not convincing, because I receive a nerving blank stare.

My heart begins to race a bit faster. “Name.”

I produce the ID card I stole (genius). “Mark Wyler.” And as soon as those words slip out of my mouth, I’m treated with a sudden newfound respect. Boy, that guy must’ve been popular.

“Oh, sir,” she starts awkwardly. “I’m afraid that’s not how we do things he—” she stops when she notices my warning look.

“It’s how I do it now.”

She’s lost while I feel guilty.

“Just give me the names, ma’am,” I say calmly, trying out the respect card, and peeking over the computer.

Found him.

“Daniel Green, could you follow me?” I call, and the man who looked like a million dollars stood up.

I lead him into a room I prayed was empty.

He was unwittingly being led into the room that would cost him everything.

The lion’s den.

Immediate shock formed on the man’s face as he discovered we were in a storage room. He turned around suddenly, looked me up and down, and understanding dawned.

It took approximately one and a half seconds for him to decide the best way to escape was to punch me square in the face.

I didn’t even have time to flinch as pain exploded in the left side of my jaw, complete with a thud and crack.

I should’ve known it would never work. I’m an idiot. For a straight-A student, I’m not too smart in my problem-solving skills.

I was thrown backwards into a broomstick, and I could hear my ears ringing.

I gripped the man’s shoes as he sprinted out and found myself being dragged violently across concrete. “Please. I need you,” I cried.

Familiar sounds could be heard in the distance—the sound of sirens. I was in deep trouble.

Even worse, I saw my mother walking back into the hospital with a merry look on her face.
She never really left.

I screwed up so, so bad.

I finally let go, the pain aching throughout my whole body; my adrenaline spiking through my veins. Blood drips from my nose, and a headache splits me into two worlds.

Snap.

And then, the pain is gone. It’s like the lines between reality and illusion blurred for a moment.
Nothing. Colors, shapes, feelings, noise— all my senses becoming numb.

For the first time, it’s like I opened my eyes.

Silence. I should listen to it more; since it has so much to tell me.