|
|
Post by Violet Westwood on Sept 1, 2010 8:51:39 GMT
Violet entered the room - '105' - slowly, opening the door and peaking around fearfully in case something was going to jump out at her. She was relieved to find her roommate wasn't there, currently, if she had one. Yes, she did - there were several personal items on the first bed, presumably belonging to the original occupant of this room. She picked the bed on the far left, and emptied her small shoulder bag onto the soft covers, deciding to unpack before anyone else arrived. She'd have to have her hands free for passing notes then. Sighing, she touched her throat gently, feeling the numerous surgical scars, and decided to put a scarf or something on. She didn't want to scare the other girl - for she was sure that her roommate would be a girl - away; when she realized that Vi couldn't speak she'd find her weird enough. When she saw her scarring, she'd be completely freaked out, and that wouldn't give her much help with making friends.
What would be her roommates problem? Had she seen the girl as she was shown to her bedroom? None of the other students here looked physically impaired. You wouldn't be able to tell what was wrong with them at just a glance, which annoyed her. There had been a very skinny blonde girl, that she thought had anorexia, but that was it for obvious disabilities. To be fair, she reminded herself, her impairment wasn't technically visible instantly. People saw scarring, and when she passed them a note introducing herself and saying she couldn't talk, they'd assume she couldn't talk because of the scarring. Which wasn't true. She sometimes just said it was; but then had to explain why exactly her throat was covered with scars, and telling people you drank bleach doesn't make them like you very much.
God, social politics. She quickly began taking the few clothes from her bag and folding them in the chest of drawers, before taking out the heaviest items; a small box. Violet opened the lid to check everything was in order and counted the journals - ten, two for every year she'd been keeping one - then removed her current journal, pushing it under her pillow with a pen. She liked to write when it was dark; her words sometimes crossed over one another but she was less inhibited then. Plus, it gave her something to do when she couldn't sleep, which was often. Vi carried the box to her chest of drawers and placed it in the bottom one, pulling some t-shirts over the top so it wouldn't be immediately obvious.
As the door opened behind her, she slammed the drawer shut and jumped up, spinning to face the pair of kids that entered. One, the girl, she presumed was her roommate, but she wasn't sure who the boy was. She inched away from him slightly, realizing too late that she hadn't put on a scarf. Did she have a notepad? Yes, there was always one in her pocket. You got organized with stuff like that when you needed it to communicate. It was like having to carry her voice about with her. Violet didn't start writing a note, however, just watched the boy suspiciously. What was he doing in the girls dorms? She wondered why the two were clinging to each other, and hoped that they weren't about to have sex. She'd have to leave, and she had no idea where to go...
|
|
|
|
Post by Kitty Allen on Sept 1, 2010 11:10:36 GMT
Kitty had forgotten to pick up her book, the one they were studying in English. The Crucible. They were only on the second scene and she loved it already. Looking around the room, she squeezed Chris’ hand and nodded at the new girl, who was evidently moving in.
She was younger than they were, but Kitty had realised the dorms weren’t really arranged by age, just what you did. Kitty smiled warmly and prayed the girl was either very good at keeping secrets or an incredibly heavy sleeper. They hadn’t managed to sneak Chris into her room yet, but now that looked completely out of the question. Besides, she didn’t want to scare her new room mate. Looked like they’d be sleeping in the bathroom for some time. Kitty found her eyes drawn to the girl’s throat and shoved them up to look at her face instead. Who cared? What were a few scars in a place like this?
Chris grinned at the small girl and held out his other hand for her to shake. “I’m Chris and that’s Kitty. So…” He cast around for a suitable conversation topic as Kitty held out her hand as well. Kitty gave him a meaningful look and Chris remembered that when living with people it was usually good to tell them why you’d just introduced your sister instead of letting her speak for herself. “Oh, right. Kitty doesn’t talk,” He shrugged. “Anyway, apparently that’s a problem or something. For the shrinks, anyway.” Kitty rolled her eyes and elbowed him. They tended to communicate like this when there were other people around, but sometimes they’d have an actual conversation when they were alone. It sounded one sided, even if it wasn’t really.
Sitting down heavily on Kitty’s bed, Chris watched the other girl, interested about who his sister would be mostly avoiding sharing a room with. He hoped she’d understand it was nothing personal, they just had to be together. Other people didn’t normally get it, but who knew? Maybe they’d got lucky.
Sitting next to Chris, Kitty hoped the girl wouldn’t mind the silence at her end. Anything beyond a sigh or possibly a giggle was impossible for her and even they were rare. If she tried to make her talk… it was going to be a very very long arrangement. For the both of them. Picking up her book, Kitty made no move to leave again. It was break time, and she was sure her teacher wouldn’t mind… much. Besides, it wasn’t as if angry teachers were something the twins were unused to dealing with.
Chris floundered for something else to say. “What do you think so far? Weird place, right?” He wondered if he should warn her about Doctor Hudson, but decided he’d have to get to know her first. Chris never minded speaking for the both of them, but occasionally he wished Kitty could come up with a conversation starter, instead of just being one. And elbowing him one to tell everyone else. Somehow people had a knack of acting as if it was only him there and not Kitty as well. Hopefully this girl would be different. Well, she’d have to be. She might actually see Kitty on her own.
|
|
|
|
Post by Violet Westwood on Sept 2, 2010 7:37:11 GMT
Violet smiled at Kitty, although it took some effort to make her lips form a happy face when she was worried that she was expected to leave, because the couple in front of her wanted sex. And it was her room... She blinked when Chris extended his hand, not sure what she was supposed to do for a second, before catching and nervously taking his hand, tensing at the contact. She pulled away as quickly as she could, and took Kitty's hand, which was less scary, because Kitty seemed less likely to snap all the bones in her hand or something. Not that she thought the boy would; it was just a precaution. Just in case.
There was a seconds silence after the boy introduced the two, and Vi took her small notepad out of her back pocket, and a pen that was fastened just inside her sleeve. It might be weird to carry a pen around all the time, she knew, but they were useful if she got an idea when she wasn't near her journal, where she recorded most things. She began to write; her handwriting was well-formed and easy to read. It had to be, when it was your only form of communication. " Hi, I'm Violet. " She paused as Chris spoke, then added another sentence. " Why don't you talk? Do you write stuff? I can't talk either. " Well, that'd give them something to talk about. Violet giggled, a noiseless, breathy laugh. Give them something to talk about? They were both mute.
As Kitty sat down and began to read, Vi ripped out and passed half of the A6 sheet to the boy, hoping he'd get that the second message wasn't really for him. It was a waste of paper, writing to people, and she wondered when she'd think of a better method. Someone at the psychiatric hospital - the last one - had suggested a whiteboard, with those cool whiteboard pens. She hadn't even responded to that idea. Carrying a whiteboard around all the time? She recycled all the paper, anyway, so it wasn't that much of a waste. And she knew sign language, but nobody else seemed too. Well, these people might... She took two fingers, pressing them against her lips and then against her right collarbone. ("My name is"). Forming a 'V' with her right hand and pressing it against the palm of her left, ("V") she wondered if they understood. Not likely.. With her index right finger, she tapped her left middle ("I") and ring finger ("O"), before hitting the centre of her palm ("L"), and then her left index finger ("E"). Finally, she lifted her left hand, so her fingers were facing to the right, and touched her right fingers to the centre of the palm, beneath the downturned hand ("T"). My name is Violet. She doubted they'd understand, but it was good to practise.
Violet smiled at Chris, and wrote a reply on the remaining, half-sheet of paper. " Yes, quite weird. I've only just got here, but there are some scary kids. Why are you here, if you don't mind me asking? " She handed it to him, hoping he wouldn't think she was weird because she couldn't talk. After all, his girlfriend couldn't - if that was who she was - and he seemed to like her.
|
|
|
|
Post by Chris Allen on Sept 2, 2010 13:44:02 GMT
Kitty read Violet’s note over her shoulder and a grin began to spread across her face. She’d never met another mute, she knew there was one here somewhere… but if she’d seen her, Kitty had no idea who she was. Chris’ eyebrows went up as he read and he grinned. “She doesn’t write notes. Jeez, if she did no one could read them.” Kitty rolled her eyes at Violet and elbowed her brother hard. “Ow! What? It’s true.” She shrugged. It might be true, but he didn’t have to go telling the world. Her handwriting was appalling; she’d never really had to write for anyone to actually read until they went to school. And she’d been taught to write right handed despite being naturally left handed, which led to some interesting shenanigans. In the end she learned to write left handed only when her parents weren’t around…
Chris raised his eyebrows at Kitty. He wasn’t really cross with her, just mildly amused. “Done beating me up?” She rolled her eyes again and nodded. “Kitty doesn’t talk because of some weird personal shi- cra- stuff?” The last word came out more as a question. Chris wasn’t sure if he was allowed to swear in front of this girl. As uninhibited as he usually was with language, he didn’t want to corrupt anyone’s innocence. He caught Kitty’s eye and she gave him a look that said ‘She’s heard swearing before, you goon.’ “But yeah,” he carried on, giving Kitty a ‘You’re the goon’ look. “Selective mutism or whatever. I kind of translate for her. You get to know each other like that when you’ve only ever been apart for twelve minutes… we’re twins by the way. I’m twelve minutes older.” In case she didn’t know. Of course she didn’t know, what did he think this girl here for? Mindreading?
Kitty watched Violet sign and grinned. They’d tried to teach her this at the hospital, but she’d been far too busy crying and freaking out to learn it. Well, she did remember one thing. Putting two fingers on her lips she transferred them to her right collarbone, like the other girl had done and hesitated. Dammit, she couldn’t remember what came next. And they’d tried to make her spell out Katherine. Two things. One, wasn’t her name, and two it took the instructor about three hundred years to spell out.
Instead, Kitty put her hands on her head, resembling cat ears, and began to nudge Chris with her head. Catching on, he stroked her head. “I’m here for IED,” She head him say as she sat up properly, with one of his arms around her, “But don’t worry, I seriously don’t bite unless you separate us. Or try to feed me celery,” he added as an after thought, grinning to show he was joking, “Because that stuff is nasty.”
Giving him a meaningful look, Kitty wondered if Chris would mind explaining to her English teacher why she was late. Somehow Kitty didn’t think so. Chris didn’t appear to mind being the head of their two bodies, but it sometimes bothered her. What if he left? The thought made her stomach clench and she pressed a little closer to him.
He wrapped his arm a little closer around Kitty and carried on. “How about you? What are they telling you is all wrong? I swear occasionally they just open a book at random for diagnosis…” He kept his tone and his face bright and happy. He didn’t want to scare her what with his IED and everything. Besides, she was hardly likely to set him off. She seemed nervous as it was, new places were difficult.
|
|
|
|
Post by Violet Westwood on Sept 3, 2010 3:51:04 GMT
Violet laughed again, the same, almost silent sound. It was hard to laugh when the only noise you could make was exhaling hard. She tended to breathe quietly as well; her breath usually came out as quite raspy. Something to do with the tube down her throat. She rolled her eyes back at Kitty. Boys could be idiots. In fact, they were always idiots, she thought. She giggled at Chris though, with his attempts not to swear in front of her. He was funny. " They thought I had mutism for a while when I started at primary school. They can be idiots about it. " It was cool that the two were twins. That probably meant that they weren't about to have sex, although it didn't guarantee it. Incest was probably a reason to get sent to a psychiatric hospital, right? Ew. " Cool that you're twins. I'm an only child. " She hesitated as she wrote the last bit. Any references to family usually made her feel slightly sick, but it was something to keep the conversation going.
She couldn't help but laugh again at Kitty signing 'cat'. Or at least, signing...well, she didn't think it was a word, but it was funny anyway. And she seemed to know basic sign language - she'd know what 'my name is', at least. If Kitty was demonstrating a cat to represent her name, what could she use for hers? A flower, obviously... She'd work something out later. It could be pretty. Now, what could she sign back? She wasn't that good at Makaton, since she'd never really had a chance to use it, but she could say basic stuff, and finger-spell the words if she didn't know them. Tapping her chest with her right index finger ("I") , she mimed writing with the same hand in midair ("write"). She hesitated before spelling out the next word; was there even a word for it? Sticking up her left index finger, she made a small circle with her left and touching the end ("P"). She tapped her ring finger of the left hand ("O"), then her left index finger ("E"). She then took the middle three fingers of her right hand, lying them across the palm of her left ("M") and finally entwined her two little fingers ("S"). Finger-spelling took a long time. The last word was simple enough; pointing at Kitty. I write poems, you?
She scribbled it down on the paper and passed it to Chris, wondering what IED was. Something something disorder, she was sure. Almost sure, anyway. " What's IED? But I'll hide the celery, don't worry. " The two twins were very...together, she noticed. Maybe touchy-feely was the right word? They were hugging on the bed, but casually, as though it was normal for them. Vi didn't know; maybe it was. She didn't have much experience with sibling relationships, after all. " They say I have loads of things - Major Depressive Disorder is the main one, though. I think you're right about the book-opening. Oh, and something that sounds like ADHP, but I can't remember what. I'm hyperactive when I have sugar, basically. "
|
|
|
|
Post by Kitty Allen on Sept 8, 2010 16:06:38 GMT
Chris rolled his eyes. “Tell us about it.” He said in an aggrieved voice. “They kept sending us down to SEN or LSA or SSA or… whatever, because all the teachers thought Kitty was being all rude and didn’t understand. Except for the English teacher, who I swear worshipped the ground Kitty walked on. But all the rest were all… they didn’t like us, kept trying to split us up. So they sent us away when we made a fuss. Besides, they were convinced Kitty needed more help than me because she doesn’t talk or some cra- er… something like that.” Kitty rolled her eyes again, smiling. Chris grinned back. “I mean, we’re not geniuses or anything… our parents taught us exactly squat over the years, except for how to cook and all that. But we don’t have loads of trouble learning or anything.” Chris hoped he’d explained that without offending anyone and all their family. He wasn’t trying to be offensive, he just wanted to get the damn point across.
Kitty concentrated hard on the signs. Like she’d remembered before, they were hazily in the back of her mind. People trying to teach you the same things over and over again for a whole week, when it could have taken a few minutes made it stick in your mind even if you had been completely distraught at the time. She could work out what Violet had said, most of it was fairly obvious and even the letters she vaguely remembered.
Tapping her right index finger on her chest in the same way Violet had, she mimed writing (It felt odd, she was usually left handed) and smiled awkwardly at Chris. She’d taught him the letters she could remember when they’d been reunited, if only to show him what she’d been doing for the past week while he was racking up a criminal record the likes of which has never been seen by this world.
“I write…” He said out loud, trying to remember and looking pained. Kitty giggled. She was going to try and do this one properly. Remembering, she elbows Chris, almost unbalancing him and pinched her right hand together, touching her right little finger with the same finger on her left. Ok, that was an S. So a t would be… Chris nodded, and showed her. She put her right finger on the bottom edge of her left hand and began to wonder if she shouldn’t remember this better. O… O…. finally she tapped the second to last finger of her left hand. Next they needed an R. Kitty began to giggle. It seemed so insane that Violet could do this seemingly without thinking, but it took her about a hundred years to work it out. Eventually she curved her right hand over her left and tapped her middle finger for an I. Chris and Kitty looked at each other. E… Chris finally came up with it, tapping his index finger. Kitty made the sign for S again and pretended to faint from exhaustion.
Chris laughed, watching Kitty fall back on the bed. “I warn you,” he said to Violet, “That is really the limit. We’re not even sure of the whole alphabet!” Taking her note, he hoped she wouldn’t sign anything else. Or at least not anything else too complicated. “Oh right,” He leaned over to tickle Kitty’s feet, earning a Look. “IED is Intermittent explosive disorder. Means if anyone tries to separate us I get really, really angry. Which is a pain, you know. Major depressive disorder sounds like a bigger pain, though. To be honest.” He winced. “Ouch. That can’t be much fun. ADHD though, that can be interesting. There were some other kids with that at our old school. They seemed cool. We didn’t really chat to them, though. We were too busy getting told we couldn’t help each other.”
|
|
|
|
Post by Violet Westwood on Sept 8, 2010 20:17:10 GMT
SEN, Violet recognised. She had heard of the other ones - LSA was Learning Support...Association? - but she wasn't sure of what they un-abbreviated out to be. " I had to go there as well, to have speech therapy. " She rolled her eyes. " That went well, as you can imagine... How come you can't talk? " She'd realized that both of the twins would read the notes, so had just started hoping that they'd realize which 'you' she was talking too. It was fairly obvious that she was addressing Kitty in that note, if only for the reason that Chris did talk. " I have...um, something I can't spell wrong with my vocal cords. " Hopefully, they'd assume that that was where she'd got her scars from.
Trying not to giggle at Chris' swearing, she smiled, wondering about their parents. " Parents can be idiots. How old are you two? " She was curious about the cooking part. Her dad - abuser that he may be - hadn't let her near the stove, worried that she'd set fire to herself or something. Probably only because he found scars a turn-off or something, not actually to do with her well-being. As she watched Kitty fingerspell, she tried to conceal her laughter at the look of confusion on their faces. They were funny. " That's cool. What sort are they? " She smiled at Chris, sucking her lower lip in so she wouldn't burst out laughing or something. Especially after the last thing he said. IED sounded...scary.
" MDD isn't that bad. I just get upset, sometimes, about small stuff. " And about big stuff, and medium-sized stuff, and suicidal occasionally... No big deal. She decided not to mention that. It tended to scare people. ADHD... Not ADHP. She smiled slightly. " ADHD is okay. I'm just...a little impulsive at times. How do you help each other? Or...not be allowed to help each other? " Technically, that made no sense, but she was sure they'd get the message.
|
|
|
|
Post by Chris Allen on Sept 23, 2010 20:45:09 GMT
Kitty read the note and she and Chris shared an uh-oh look. Kitty didn’t want to explain the whole not talking thing to anyone. If she ever did it would be to Chris, never mind what her shrink thought. And kitty wasn’t about to do anything of the kind. She shrugged at Violet, trying to seem as unbothered by the question as possible. So you could not be able to talk for medical reasons too? That figured. She’d never considered it though, all the other mutes she’d met (or not met, due to the whole curled in a corner crying thing) had not been able to because of what the doctors called psychiatric reasons.
“Kitty doesn’t talk because of… personal reasons, you know.” Chris shrugged as well, as if to say it was no big deal. In actual fact it was a huge deal, he wanted to know what made Kitty stop talking so he could kick the living daylights out of whoever made it happen. But Kitty wasn’t going to tell him, and he wasn’t pushing it. When you had to live with someone that closely you learned what they could and couldn’t take. “We’re fifteen. I’m twelve minutes older.” He could almost feel Kitty rolling her eyes to the side of him. Twelve minutes is nothing she used to tell him. He missed that.
Shrugging it off to answer Violet’s next question he realised how weird it was being the only talking one in the room, and wondered if this was what Kitty felt like most of the time. It seemed pretty likely. “Kitty writes short stories mostly. Bit of poetry thrown in for good measure, you know. Lots of fantasy, all that jazz. I do music instead.”
Kitty had strong suspicions Violet was fibbing, perhaps a tiny bit, about the MMD. After all, if it wasn’t that bad, she wouldn’t be here, would she? “Er… different stuff really…” Chris was giving her his help-me-out look. Kitty rolled her eyes and nodded, almost imperceptibly towards her notebook. “I translate Kitty’s handwriting. Kitty gives me help with history and that. I’m cra—er. Rubbish. At dates. Just the history ones, you know, real life ones should be fine.” He grinned at her and Kitty rolled her eyes again. Like either of them had ever been on a date. “Two brains are better than one and all that. We remind each other of stuff…” Chris shrugged again.
|
|
|
|
Post by Violet Westwood on Sept 23, 2010 22:30:46 GMT
Personal reasons? As in, she didn't talk by choice? Violet stared at her, half-stunned. Why somebody would do that was beyond her. Kitty had a voice, had the ability to speak, and chose not to use it? Why would somebody do that? 'Stop being a bitch, idiot. It's nothing to do with you. Anyway, who are you to pass judgement?' Faking a smile, she bent over her notepad, a good way to avoid making eye-contact. "That's cool." Her writing was smaller than before, and she crossed in out with a few quick strokes, trying to make the handwriting look just as bubbly and large as it was a minute before Kitty's revelation.
"I'm 13. Almost fourteen." She wondered if they would notice that she'd used a number for thirteen and a word for fourteen. If they did, they might think it was because she was an idiot... She wasn't. Just a little behind on spelling. Quickly, she crossed out the 'fourteen', replacing it with a number. Just in case they thought she was stupid... Violet ignored Chris' comment about being twelve minutes older, something she usually would have laughed at.
She smiled weakly in the other girls direction, writing half-heartedly. "Maybe we should try writing something together, sometime." All she wanted to do was curl up on her bed, preferably without the twins being in the room, and write in her journal. When she put her thoughts on paper, they always looked so...just so much nicer. When they were in her head, she hated herself for having them. But on paper, everything negative just seemed less likely to hurt people. "Music sounds fun." Usually, she'd have asked what instrument he played, when he'd started; questions to show she cared. For the minute, she couldn't bring herself to make the effort.
"That sounds fun," she wrote, tucking her feet up besides her on the bed. Was there a polite way to get her journal out and start writing? Not really, so Violet stuck her hand under her pillow, pulling out the A4 black notebook. Opening it to a clean page, she began to write, not concentrating on the words themselves, but on the act of writing. It always seemed like it was...clearing her head out, somehow. The pen scratched across the paper furiously, her years of writing instead of speaking letting her record her thoughts at lightening speed. Made homework a lot faster, as well.
|
|
