Categories > Original > Romance > For Fear of Silence
I smile at her before walking into Waffle House and seeing her continue down the street through one of the windows.
0Unrated
My combat boots squelch as I make my way through the sea of hot, pulsating bodies. The bass of the music practically causes me to jump off the ground with every beat. I shove people out of my way, running my hand over a girl’s ass absent mindedly as she passes. Her head turns towards me and I can sense the lust in her green eyes. The left side of my mouth curls up in a smirk as I continue walking. I finally reach the bar and see my best friend Dakota. He’s wearing a white v-neck t-shirt, black short-overalls which I’m sure came from the junior’s department at Kohl’s, and saddle shoe style Vans. He waves at me and pours me a shot of JD before sliding it into my hands.
“What’s up, pretty boy,” he says as he fixes someone else’s drink. The girl beside me takes her margarita from him and slides her money across the bar. Her eyes rake over my body and she winks at me before heading off in another direction. Dakota laughs and takes a sip of his own drink.
“Just got done with a show,” I mutter before I knock back the shot. The burn of the alcohol running down my throat makes me shiver and Dakota sends another one my way. “What’s up with you?”
Dakota flips his blond hair back and wipes at the counter with a towel. “Nothing much. The ‘rents still giving you shit about college?”
I swallow the second shot before nodding. “Yeah, man. I don’t see the big fucking deal. I just turned 19 for Christ sake. They need to get the fuck offa my back.” I run a hand through my long black hair and light a cigarette. “I mean, I don’t even need to go to college, y’know Dake? I wanna be a musician. What could the system teach me about that?” I graduated high school last year and decided that I didn’t want to go to college. I make money playing at small gigs and stuff around town.
“I gotcha, Grennan.” He pulls his bangs back into a ponytail before washing his hands. “I’m glad Pops and Lisa let me do what I want. They know that I can handle myself.” Dakota’s taking art and sign language classes at the community college. His dad and stepmother are extremely laid back, and frankly, sometimes I wish they were my parents.
“Yeah.” I take a drag of my cigarette and sigh. “How’s um, McKey?” I’m not sure if I got her name right, but assume I have when Dakota smiles.
Dakota’s dark eyes light up and he continues to beam at me. “She’s good. Uh, she’s been helping me with my sign language. Actually, she’s coming over after I’m done with my shift tonight.” McKey is mute. One of her ex-boyfriends had attempted to strangle her, which severely damaged her vocal chords. She and Dakota met at an art show downtown about a year ago and they’ve been dating ever since.
“Fuck, Dake,” I snort, choking on my laughter. “You’re a lovesick little wuss, aren’t ya man?”
“Oh shut up. She’s just…McKey’s great, man. I really do think I love her, though.” He just shrugs his shoulders with his dorky little suspenders as he jacks my cigarette and takes a drag. “You’ve gotta stop smokin’, Gren. Can’t have you dyin’ on me, now can I?” At least, that’s what I think he says; I can’t really tell due to my cigarette hanging out of his mouth.
“Fuck you, Dakota. And give me my fag back, bitch.” I snatch it back from him and take a long drag. “I don’t think it’ll be the fags that kill me, y’know? I hope to go out with a bang or some shit like that. Like…I dunno, JFK.”
Dakota chokes on his Screwdriver and looks at me with wide eyes. “You, my friend,” he gasps between guffaws, “are drunk. So you wanna get assassinated, bro?”
“Well, no. I just…want it to be something special. Not boring or mundane in the slightest. You know I can’t do that shit.”
“I get it.”
Dakota and I talk until his shift is over. It’s about 3 am once we actually get out of the club and Dake leaves after promising that we’ll meet up tomorrow, and I’m a little hungry so I decide to walk to Waffle House down the street. The burnt orange of the street lights is flickering in and out sporadically, creating imaginary shadows visible from the corners of my eyes. It’s quiet outside and it’s kind of unnerving. I’ve never liked silence; it gives you too much room to think. I can hear peals of drunken laughter in the distance along with cars splashing through puddles in the road.
“Yeah, I’ve got it, Daddy. Okay, I’ll be home soon. Tell Mom I love her.” The voice is young and I turn my head to see a small girl walking behind me. She looks to be about my age, but she’s short. Her ginger hair is straight and shoulder length, her bangs covering her eyes. She looks up at me and brushes her hair back with a small smile, causing my heart to stop. She has huge gray doe-eyes which just make her look even more childish. Her lips are full and pouty, and I mentally wonder if she’s a good kisser. She’s wearing a bright blue crop top with gray sweatpants that are rolled up to her knees, and there are blue Converse on her small feet. I smile at her before walking into Waffle House and seeing her continue down the street through one of the windows. Sighing, I stand by the door until a hostess takes me to a table.
***
I bid the hostess farewell as I walk out the door and into the chilly air, hearing the bell chime above my head. I’ve sobered up quite a bit, and walk back towards the club to get my car and go home. The bag of leftovers swings softly in my hand as I bop along to an imaginary tune in my head. It’s kind of catchy so I remind myself to keep it so I can try it out on my guitar later.
“Hey dude.” I nearly leap from my skin as the voice rings out against the early morning. Turning around, I see the girl from earlier. It’s been almost an hour and a half since I last saw her, why was she still here?
“Um, hi. Can I help you?” My hands fiddle anxiously with the handles of the plastic bag when I look up to meet her eyes.
“Yeah, actually. Would you mind letting me use your phone? Mine kinda died on me,” she trails off with a look of uncertainty in her eyes. Her irises glint with some foreign emotion and I just assume that it’s anxiety from having to ask a stranger for their phone.
I dig around in the pocket of my leather jacket to make sure I have said phone. “Sure thing. Here ya’ go kiddo,” I mutter, tossing it to her before leaning against the brick wall of a shop. Looking up at the sign I find out that it’s a laundromat. “They still have those things,” I mumble curiously as I kick at rocks with my feet. I turn around and face the wall, shoulders hunched as I attempt to light a cigarette. The girl’s still talking on the phone, talking to her dad I guess, and I rest my forehead against the cool bricks, taking a drag. My head is starting to throb faintly and I groan a little. Closing my eyes, I run the hand not holding the fag though my hair, a bad habit of mine. I can never do my hair properly because I always fuck with it.
I’m halfway through my cigarette when I feel something cold press into the skin of my neck, causing me to drop it. I see a Converse putting it out before my head is jerked up. “Please, just do what I tell you, alright?” The girl’s voice is sad as she whispers into my ear and slowly turns me around, keeping the knife on my neck. She drops my phone to ground and stomps on it, effectively crushing it. “If you listen, you’ll be okay. Just listen,” she pleas. I hear the cock of a gun and look away from the girl’s face to see four burly men standing around us, all of them aiming their weapons at my head. The girl sighs before waving a hand at them. “No, you don’t need those. He’s going to listen.” The men look at each other briefly and lower their guns, one of them walking up to me with a cloth in his hand. My eyes widen and I try and wriggle out of the girl’s arms but she presses the knife harder against my skin and I feel it penetrate. “Just wait, buddy.” Her gray eyes peer into my blue ones as the man presses the cloth up to my nose.
“It’s going to be okay.”
She’s the last thing I see.
“What’s up, pretty boy,” he says as he fixes someone else’s drink. The girl beside me takes her margarita from him and slides her money across the bar. Her eyes rake over my body and she winks at me before heading off in another direction. Dakota laughs and takes a sip of his own drink.
“Just got done with a show,” I mutter before I knock back the shot. The burn of the alcohol running down my throat makes me shiver and Dakota sends another one my way. “What’s up with you?”
Dakota flips his blond hair back and wipes at the counter with a towel. “Nothing much. The ‘rents still giving you shit about college?”
I swallow the second shot before nodding. “Yeah, man. I don’t see the big fucking deal. I just turned 19 for Christ sake. They need to get the fuck offa my back.” I run a hand through my long black hair and light a cigarette. “I mean, I don’t even need to go to college, y’know Dake? I wanna be a musician. What could the system teach me about that?” I graduated high school last year and decided that I didn’t want to go to college. I make money playing at small gigs and stuff around town.
“I gotcha, Grennan.” He pulls his bangs back into a ponytail before washing his hands. “I’m glad Pops and Lisa let me do what I want. They know that I can handle myself.” Dakota’s taking art and sign language classes at the community college. His dad and stepmother are extremely laid back, and frankly, sometimes I wish they were my parents.
“Yeah.” I take a drag of my cigarette and sigh. “How’s um, McKey?” I’m not sure if I got her name right, but assume I have when Dakota smiles.
Dakota’s dark eyes light up and he continues to beam at me. “She’s good. Uh, she’s been helping me with my sign language. Actually, she’s coming over after I’m done with my shift tonight.” McKey is mute. One of her ex-boyfriends had attempted to strangle her, which severely damaged her vocal chords. She and Dakota met at an art show downtown about a year ago and they’ve been dating ever since.
“Fuck, Dake,” I snort, choking on my laughter. “You’re a lovesick little wuss, aren’t ya man?”
“Oh shut up. She’s just…McKey’s great, man. I really do think I love her, though.” He just shrugs his shoulders with his dorky little suspenders as he jacks my cigarette and takes a drag. “You’ve gotta stop smokin’, Gren. Can’t have you dyin’ on me, now can I?” At least, that’s what I think he says; I can’t really tell due to my cigarette hanging out of his mouth.
“Fuck you, Dakota. And give me my fag back, bitch.” I snatch it back from him and take a long drag. “I don’t think it’ll be the fags that kill me, y’know? I hope to go out with a bang or some shit like that. Like…I dunno, JFK.”
Dakota chokes on his Screwdriver and looks at me with wide eyes. “You, my friend,” he gasps between guffaws, “are drunk. So you wanna get assassinated, bro?”
“Well, no. I just…want it to be something special. Not boring or mundane in the slightest. You know I can’t do that shit.”
“I get it.”
Dakota and I talk until his shift is over. It’s about 3 am once we actually get out of the club and Dake leaves after promising that we’ll meet up tomorrow, and I’m a little hungry so I decide to walk to Waffle House down the street. The burnt orange of the street lights is flickering in and out sporadically, creating imaginary shadows visible from the corners of my eyes. It’s quiet outside and it’s kind of unnerving. I’ve never liked silence; it gives you too much room to think. I can hear peals of drunken laughter in the distance along with cars splashing through puddles in the road.
“Yeah, I’ve got it, Daddy. Okay, I’ll be home soon. Tell Mom I love her.” The voice is young and I turn my head to see a small girl walking behind me. She looks to be about my age, but she’s short. Her ginger hair is straight and shoulder length, her bangs covering her eyes. She looks up at me and brushes her hair back with a small smile, causing my heart to stop. She has huge gray doe-eyes which just make her look even more childish. Her lips are full and pouty, and I mentally wonder if she’s a good kisser. She’s wearing a bright blue crop top with gray sweatpants that are rolled up to her knees, and there are blue Converse on her small feet. I smile at her before walking into Waffle House and seeing her continue down the street through one of the windows. Sighing, I stand by the door until a hostess takes me to a table.
***
I bid the hostess farewell as I walk out the door and into the chilly air, hearing the bell chime above my head. I’ve sobered up quite a bit, and walk back towards the club to get my car and go home. The bag of leftovers swings softly in my hand as I bop along to an imaginary tune in my head. It’s kind of catchy so I remind myself to keep it so I can try it out on my guitar later.
“Hey dude.” I nearly leap from my skin as the voice rings out against the early morning. Turning around, I see the girl from earlier. It’s been almost an hour and a half since I last saw her, why was she still here?
“Um, hi. Can I help you?” My hands fiddle anxiously with the handles of the plastic bag when I look up to meet her eyes.
“Yeah, actually. Would you mind letting me use your phone? Mine kinda died on me,” she trails off with a look of uncertainty in her eyes. Her irises glint with some foreign emotion and I just assume that it’s anxiety from having to ask a stranger for their phone.
I dig around in the pocket of my leather jacket to make sure I have said phone. “Sure thing. Here ya’ go kiddo,” I mutter, tossing it to her before leaning against the brick wall of a shop. Looking up at the sign I find out that it’s a laundromat. “They still have those things,” I mumble curiously as I kick at rocks with my feet. I turn around and face the wall, shoulders hunched as I attempt to light a cigarette. The girl’s still talking on the phone, talking to her dad I guess, and I rest my forehead against the cool bricks, taking a drag. My head is starting to throb faintly and I groan a little. Closing my eyes, I run the hand not holding the fag though my hair, a bad habit of mine. I can never do my hair properly because I always fuck with it.
I’m halfway through my cigarette when I feel something cold press into the skin of my neck, causing me to drop it. I see a Converse putting it out before my head is jerked up. “Please, just do what I tell you, alright?” The girl’s voice is sad as she whispers into my ear and slowly turns me around, keeping the knife on my neck. She drops my phone to ground and stomps on it, effectively crushing it. “If you listen, you’ll be okay. Just listen,” she pleas. I hear the cock of a gun and look away from the girl’s face to see four burly men standing around us, all of them aiming their weapons at my head. The girl sighs before waving a hand at them. “No, you don’t need those. He’s going to listen.” The men look at each other briefly and lower their guns, one of them walking up to me with a cloth in his hand. My eyes widen and I try and wriggle out of the girl’s arms but she presses the knife harder against my skin and I feel it penetrate. “Just wait, buddy.” Her gray eyes peer into my blue ones as the man presses the cloth up to my nose.
“It’s going to be okay.”
She’s the last thing I see.
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