Chapter 3: He shall not speak
It was around our second year that I noticed subtle changes on Ms. Evergreen's conduct towards Nate, granted it had only been a sudden double blink, a hesitation on her lips, and her mannerism of scratching her elbow when she was nervous. Anyone else would have looked and saw nothing, if pressed heavily perhaps they might guess some hidden contempt but I for one can see through her act.
The irony was that Nate only really had a chance because of their teacher-student relationship; there's something called the Ironic Process Hypothesis which states that the most blocked thoughts in a persons mind ends up being the most persistent and obtrusive ones and for every cringy poem of Nate, every half budding flower he brought to her office too soon, and those snacks that he would leave on her desk when he thought no one was looking – those have been the very same things that brought Ms. Evergreen closer to her. The more she had denied any thoughts of him, the stronger her feelings for him became and try she may be to hate him, a good teacher can never truly hate their student.
Even something as rare as a once in a lifetime opportunity would reveal itself to everyone eventually after all and Nate's fortunes came from a mix of blind infatuation, a stubborn constitution, and most importantly, Ms. Evergreen's misfortune. I can't say all of this to Nate however, tempted I might be to meddle with other people's affairs.
I was gifted a talent for reading people after all and it's not because I'm any genius whatsoever, I'm average in my intelligence, I am certain. I have this skill because of my disconnectedness with the world which allows me to see the bigger picture, should I play apart in this story then I shall no longer be a spectator and the people on the stage can no longer read the script.
Therefore, I stick with little context clues and ambiguous inspirations, which Nate, genius he might be in the field of love was still much to thick to truly understand.
We kept on paying the whole afternoon until my eyes began to strain and I had to take my leave, seeing Naomi as I left but both of us too shy to say a word so I only left, Nate being too caught up in his game to see me out.
The trip home was just a few minutes walk and to my terror, Lara had been waiting outside my house. Sitting by the gate as no one was home. I didn't know how to approach her…I didn't know what to say….
I simply stood until she began to notice me as well and she ran to me but upon reaching close proximity also hesitated on her heels.
"Say something will you." She couldn't look me in the eye and she fidgeted uncomfortably from where she stood. I only stood erect and unmoving, it was much more than cat's go my tongue. More accurately, my tongue felt like it was surgically removed, bulldozed, chopped to many pieces, and mixed inside my gut.
"Why can't you just say it and get it over with…" Her voice began getting more excited and higher and her eyes fogged up with swelling tears.
"I…don't know what to say…"
"Say you hate me! Say that you only toyed with my feelings! – if not then …" She walked closer with the intention of slapping me clear in her expression.
"...then?"
She made a few steps closer and pulled my hands imploringly. "…then tell me you love me too…" She looked at me with those pained hazel eyes and I felt my heart sink. It began to harden as well however and I swallowed all my pity.
"…I can't…"
Her eyes widened and the tears rushed from her face, she looked hurt, sad, and disappointed – any moment I expected a slap from her but she only forced a smile, that practiced flawless smile of hers and said. "I see, thank you for your honesty." She then ran away ashamed and terrified and my legs felt shaky and could not support my weight so I fell down.
As I sat, all sorts of thoughts rushed towards my mind and it was almost as if right in front of me was a mirror of myself; of all my insecurities, greed, and selfishness mashed together to form a dark silhouette of myself.
"You are an idiot!"
"No, you've done well! We don't deserve her."
"Chase after her!"
"No, we can do better!"
"I love Lara"
"No, we hate her."
"I want her back!"
"She doesn't belong with us!"
"I miss her."
"Don't be weak!"
"….I hurt her…."
"She deserved it!"
I felt like I was going insane with the rushing thoughts and I ran inside my house but even inside the silence was deafening. My ears rang and when they didn't, I could feel the dark silhouette choking me from behind. I quickly ran to my room and ransacked everything, I had to find it! When it wasn't there I went to the next room and threw everything aside. I could feel the pressure suffocating me and it was like the silhouette was growing bigger and bigger until it felt like it was going to devour me.
I opened one cabinet after another, throwing aside clothes, jewelry, everything. I called desperately for help but I was alone and felt everything darkening, I reached for my pocket only to find the pill bottle that I had been looking for and swallowed one pill too many…I lost consciousness.
When I came to, I was met by an angry man: my father. He was shouting, and rambling on about something or other, my head felt hazy. I looked around and everything was a mess. I was on my parent's room and nothing was left untouched, the cushions of the bed flipped, the pillows all over the place, clothes were everywhere and every dresser in their room was open and from their room's bathroom I could hear water overflowing from the showers, faucets, and the bathtub…Did I do this?
Soon I began to recover my hearing again and my father's voice became loud and clear. "Goddamn it Claus! What the hell are you doing?! Look at this mess! I bust my ass out for this family and this is what you do?! Tell me what the hell is wrong with you, you stupid child? Why do you keep doing this?! Do you think that you can get attention this way huh? Is that it?!"
I only stared at him blankly…he is so mad…
"What the hell is with that smirk huh?" He then pulled me up and pushed me to the wall. Had I been smirking? Weird…my face feels numb. Apparently I was, and in an insulting manner too because my father couldn't take it anymore and he slapped me with a force so strong that I almost fell again, feeling as groggy as I was but I managed to stand my ground but the pill bottle fell from my hands and he saw it and his eyes flashed with fury.
"You have been taking this again?!" He then took the bottle and threw it out the closed window, shattering it with a loud splat. "Where did you get that?! Claus fucking speak!"
The worst of his fury was dying out and I really did need to speak now. "I'm sorry father, I have went too far again because of the pill. Worry not, it's the last subscription."
Yes blame it on the pill, you know you can't accept that this had been your son who did this right?
He let go of me and fixed his grizzled up hair, while trying to collect his senses.
"I should clean this up…it won't happen again I promise."
"No." He now became calm and listless. "I'll call the housekeeper. In the meantime, clean yourself up. We'll have dinner soon."
I went back to my room and it was just as much of a mess, you'd think a literal tornado blew everything away. A vase by my nightstand was on the floor still dripping with the water, the blankets were to be found by the door, and not even my notebook was spared, being in my mood I even found it amusing that I tried to look for the pill bottle by ripping it out.
I walked over the piles of clothes on the ground and picked up whatever seemed less crumpled, of course they all were – with that rumpus I made and all. As I took a shirt I happened to find my phone directly below it, it's glass was shattered and there was a spectrum of colors showing on the screen; I vaguely remember throwing it on the ground and later on stepping on it on my rush…damn, there goes my allowance…
A few minutes later after I rinsed my face and tidied up to the best I could without delay, I went to our dining room which thankfully was saved from my "episode", lucky too because all the china and glass decorations cost Father a fortune – about a quarter of his salary as a judge in the Supreme Court.
Everything seemed tranquil on the dining room, Father was slowly chewing his food and mother patiently waited for me to get down so we can eat together. Mom, wasn't quite as good as Father with 'playing house' but she tried to the best of her extent to act normal despite her son making a whirlwind upstairs.
"How was your day Claus?" She gave me a shaky smile and put some food on my plate.
"Excellent, I've aced all my exams." I also played along and gave them a court smile.
"Wonderful son, at this rate you'll be as good a lawyer as your old man." Father then gently stroked my head and continued with his meal.
"About earlier…"
Mother muffled a whimper and only Father seemed unaffected.
"It's that drug's fault, alas you have thrown it away now so there won't be anymore problems. Don't worry Claus, we all relapse to bad habits – you have learned your lesson so let us not talk about it again."
Talk about what again? That you'd rather your son be an addict than accept that something's wrong with his head? Or that mom couldn't even look because it might trigger an attack of her own? Why don't we talk about it Father and finally break this despicable image of the 'perfect family'?
"Perhaps, you may schedule me for another session with Dr. Holsten?"
"And what so he can charge me just to tell me lies? No, his profession is a joke and he is no different than a glorified drug dealer! Never mention that fraud or any of his fraud colleagues; there is nothing wrong with you Claus, it's that drug that's degrading your brilliant mind."
"Yes Father, I'll dispose of everything and it will never happen again." How many times have I said this same promise?
For the rest of dinner, we talked about the same things we've talked about the day before, and the day before that. Father's struggles in his job, Mom in hers, my grades, my assignments…I could time travel to yesterday or the week before and I wouldn't even be able to tell the difference.
When dinner was over, I headed straight to bed…at least I was supposed to but after fifteen minutes of laying in the dark, I couldn't handle it anymore and decided to start-up my laptop. It was managed to be spared because of a combination lock I put it in a cupboard under my board which had been a precaution from some busybody hacking my laptop and finding the private information I had hidden there but also proved to be its salvation from my crazed rumbling.
Not long after I opened it however, someone knocked on my door.
"Sir. Claus, May I come clean your room?" It was the voice of Nena, an old lady that cleans for us.
"No, thank you Nena, I'll do it myself."
"But Monsieur Claus, Monsieur Reinhardt ordered me to."
"I see, well please come in, the door is open."
Slowly the old maid came inside with all sorts of cleaning materials, she looked tired and disappointed; perhaps because she just finished cleaning the house this afternoon.
"Pardon."
She simply shook her head and smiled at me kindly. "It's no ok…these things…happen."
I felt a pang of guilt on my conscience but calmed myself down before I relapse again, I had to be careful, Father just threw away my medications, and only God knows what I might do if I'm not controlled.
I decided to focus on my story that I had been writing for the past year and the 20 loyal followers and I felt compelled to write and yet the writer's block could not be removed, I had all these ideas but those of sooner chapters, these plots that I could not tie together, and that strong urge to start over.
As usual my only review was that of a harsh critic which seemed to love hating my works because at every chapter he would ridicule me, not just for my grammar but for the style itself The man who goes by the alias of Austerio is my greatest enemy and yet I had to recognize that he certainly was a good writer, although I found his writing boring and repetitive he still had a way of drawing people to his writing and he did not have a single bad review. I looked unto Austerio with a mix of annoyance and pride, annoyed that he was above my level but proud that he chose me to be my rival.
I decided to force my mind to show me even the faintest idea of what I should do and a little glimmer of life showed itself from a single word that popped up in my mind, "Breakdown". I kept on trying to find a way to relate it to my story, any clue at all and it was as if my own characters dictated what I should do and before I knew it I had published another chapter.
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