I was sent to live with my grandmother after the accident. I went to a different school where nobody except the adults knew what I had done. Everyone else just knew me as the silent girl with the curly red hair. Grandma and I taught ourselves sign language as well as my teacher. He only knew enough to understand when I was asking to go to the bathroom, but that was enough. Anything else, I could just write. I fell into such a depression that I barely did anything anymore. I was like a ghost. I would wake up, go to school, come home, and sleep, with the occasional meal thrown in there. I even quit dance which I had grown to love so much.

One night in fourth grade, I woke up from yet another nightmare about my parents to see a dark silhouette sitting on the edge of my bed. I scrambled up and turned on the light to see my grandma sitting there. I sighed with relief, but my heart was still racing.

"Sorry if I woke you," she said softly. "I just heard my daughter's voice."

I was confused. Mom was here?!? She was alive! I looked around but couldn't see her.

"What do you mean?" I signed. "She's not here."

"No, I suppose not. You were using your quirk in your sleep. You had her talking to you. Is that what she said after you broke that girl's arm? That you were bound to be a villain if you used your quirk like that?"

I shook my head. That was something my mind has come up with just to torture me.

"Ah, a nightmare. I see. You know I miss my daughter's voice every day? I'm sure you feel the same way, but I see her when I look at you. Your eyes, your hair. Though I have to say you take after me more in the hair department," she said, scooting up to lay next to me. "My hair was as red as yours back in my day. And look, still as curly." She ruffled a hand through her hair. The tight curls returned to their spot as she removed her hand.

"Did I ever tell you that I was the one who helped your mother learn Japanese?" She asked in said language. I was impressed to say the least.

"I have to say you picked up on sign language faster than she did with Japanese. I know you've been learning Japanese sign language too. You should know how proud I am of you. It took many long nights of your mother being frustrated but refusing to give up. It might've felt rough at that time, but those were always good memories." There was a moment of silence as I processed her words.

"I know you don't really use your quirk anymore, at least not intentionally, but I would really like to hear my daughter's voice again." I didn't even realize I was crying until she wiped a finger across my cheek.

This isn't for me, I told myself. This is for Grandma. I'm not trying to use the vibrations. I can just use it to talk.

So I took a deep breath and concentrated. Her voice filled my mind and I let the sound sit at the very center of the room. "Long ago, there was a kingdom called Arendelle. The king and queen had two lovely daughters. The oldest was born with ice powers. The younger..."

And so I continued until the "happily ever after." Grandma wiped the tears from her eyes as I did the same. It was so long that I had heard her voice and it wasn't yelling at me that I was some monster or villain.
I couldn't help but feel like Elsa in that moment. I knew what it was like to hurt someone. But I just didn't understand how she could so easily just free herself from that guilt and embrace her power. Anna came back to life, but my parents are still dead. That might be the difference. Though maybe I could just use my power to do this. Remember my mother and all the good memories I had with her. It didn't seem impossible. But I convinced myself to keep it a secret. I only used my quirk to speak when I was alone in my room again. I was curious about what other sounds I could have it make, so I started playing music. It seemed to be the only thing that could calm me down when I was having panic attacks and flashbacks. I had listened to those Disney songs so many times that I knew every one by heart and could flawlessly replicate them. It made me feel a little better, knowing not everything I did would hurt someone.

In sixth grade, the students from the two elementary schools in my town were sent to the singular middle school. It was intimidating. Everybody seemed to have such good control over their quirks and the new faces intimidated me.

The first day, a boy I didn't recognize came over to my empty table at the back of the class and sat next to me. "Hey! I'm Grant! What's your name?" He asked, very politely might I add.

"She doesn't talk, dude," one of the other guys said. I recognized his face, but couldn't place his name. He was arrogant and thought his power of toxic farts was something to be proud of. "She doesn't even have a quirk. It's like she's not even there. Don't waste your time with that freak."

He regarded me and his eyes softened. "I don't think she's a freak." I was never more grateful for someone.

Grant became my best friend. He sat with me at lunch while I tried to teach him sign language. He gave up pretty easily, though. It was much easier for me to write stuff down in his opinion. I wanted to use my quirk to talk to him, but I was scared of him asking why I didn't use it anywhere else like when those guys were talking about me. Even though we were good friends, I didn't think I was ready to let him into my life that far.

Just before Christmas break, he got me a giant bag of chocolate with a note stuck on it. "Will you go out with me?" It read. I nodded yes and just like that, I had a boyfriend.

Of course, in sixth grade, that doesn't really mean anything. We sat a little closer at lunch. We held hands, walking from class to class and under the table when we had that one class that blessed us with a table all to ourselves. At night, we sent each other little heart emojis and I fell asleep with a smile on my face. Just like that, my first boyfriend had let me sleep peacefully for the first time since my parents passed away. There were still nightmares, but he would talk to me and make me feel better. I just never told him what they were about.

Valentine's day came around, which I was really nervous about. Before school, we went to the local park and sat down on a bench. It was still chilly, but my insides were so fluttery and warm when I was with him that it didn't matter. I was exhausted, but he didn't seem to mind. He just said he wanted to give me something before school to make me feel special.

It was then that he kissed me and murmured three fateful words, "I love you." Of course those words were tossed around a lot at that age and kids didn't really understand, but at that moment, I felt as though I was in love. I was just too scared to say it. The only people who I said I loved were my parents and Grandma. They were the only ones that knew about my dark streak with my quirk.

He backed away shakily and said, "I know you can't physically say it back and I don't expect you to. I know it was out of nowhere, but I just wanted you to know. You just make me happy."

I was smiling like an idiot and I leaned over to kiss him again before reaching into my backpack and taking out my whiteboard.

"I want to," I wrote. "I really do. I'm just scared." I erased the board. "Look I don't know if I can say," I erased the last word and fixed it, "write it back if you don't know everything."

"What do you mean?" He asked.

I sighed and began writing again. "I actually DO have a quirk. It lets me talk, but I really don't like to use it in public."

"Why not?"

"Because people always seem to get hurt."

"I still don't understand."

"I'm scared that if I tell you, you will see me different."

"I love you. I told you I love you. Nothing's going to change that."

And in that moment, I felt so safe with him that I told him everything. Oh, what a mistake that was.

"What they said about you was true! You ARE a freak! Not only are you a freak, but you're a murderer!" He shouted at me, confirming my suspicions. I felt as though every spare ounce of hope I had was gone. He had confirmed my worst nightmares. He said he would love me no matter what and now all he could see me as was a murderer.

He stood up and walked to school as I sat there and cried. After a few minutes, I stood up and followed. No matter how sad I was, I had to still go to school to keep up the facade to Grandma that I was alright.

When I made it there, people were already talking about me. The teachers knew about the incident, so they were trying to get the students to stop, but it was too late. They had their opinions of me. I put on a brave face until lunch when some teachers came over, thinking they could help me and fix my problems. They had no clue what I was going through. How dare they think they can help?

The rest of the day, I spent hiding my face as the violent words kept pounding at my ears. It wasn't until I heard his voice as I was leaving that I let myself break down.

"She should just do everyone a favor and get rid of herself. She's cursed. That's why I got out of that relationship while I still could. I don't wanna be around her if she could kill me. I never really liked her anyway, I just felt sorry for her. It's not like she has anyone to miss her anyway."

Grant, you were supposed to love me, I thought before running out of school and all the way home.