Art by Mori_art_ti

Challenge: Automobile

Ye old truck

Idea by @minipage

"These are things I no longer wish to understand"

minipage

I was half-asleep, half-drugged and completely exhausted.

But that was when I woke up, faced with a bright light and a thousand hands moving around me. I couldn't feel their touch but I knew they were touching me.

My first thought was that I was in the hospital. I was correct, but I didn't learn that for awhile after.

Instead, I just went back to sleep.

When I woke up for a second time, I felt dull pain, like a constant ache throughout my body. 

I could hear people talking but they didn't seem to realize that I was awake; that my eyes were searching for them.

It was like I was in my body but I lacked control of it.

Finally there was a hand on top of mine and a whispered "good morning."

I smiled slightly. It was my mom.

My mom was here.

I sighed in relief.

I wasn't alone. 

"How are you feeling?"

I thought I responded with "fine." 

"Doctor, why isn't she speaking?"

I was speaking. 

I was speaking!

But then I realized that I was. The words formed in my head but there was no way I could speak them. It was impossible.

I tried screaming instead. 

Nothing. 

My mouth wasn't even opening.

"Could you try wiggling your fingers for me?" an unfamilar voice asked of me. 

I focused on that. I watched as my fingers moved up and down.

"And your toes?"

They moved as well.

I felt a sharp poke in my thigh. I recoiled. I would have shouted. I should have shouted.

"It's not paralysis-"

No duh!

"-it could just be psychological-"

Obviously not.

I wanted to speak!

I had to speak!

........

6 months later...

"And how are you doing today?" the therapist asked as he shut the door.

My only form of communicating now was through what was essentially a double sided phone. I could type my thoughs on the front side and the back side displayed it. But it looked more like a triangle to make it easier to read and see. 

It was supposed to be more "teenage-friendly" than learning how to sign, which I was in the painful process of doing.

Good scrolled across the screen.

"Anything exciting happening?"

Absolutely not

"Still haven't found your voice?"

Was that a pun?

The good doctor laughed.

"No," he said. 

I hate puns. 

"Most people do."

Sarcasm is my preferred form of humor.

"That says a lot about you."

Does it? Do tell me more

"It's hard to be sarcastic on a screen, isn't it?"

Pretty much. Maybe if it'd stop being so stubborn and speak . . . 

"The test results came back along with the final analysis---"

I tuned the psychologist out.

I knew what he'd say.

Irrepairable damage.

Never speak again.

Developing new technology.

However, nothing can restore my voice.

There was a lot more techincal and medical language mixed in.

But these were things I no longer wished to understand.

I just wanted my voice back.