Saving My Broken Mute

Chapter 7: Fresh Start

Nasha's P.O.V.

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~ One year, and six months later ~

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I looked up at the intimidating school. It's huge. Much bigger than the ones I went to in New York. I clenched my bag closer to me.

Aunt Pam put her hand on mine.

"It's going to be alright Nasha," she said softly. "Things are going to be different this time. You're okay now."

I could have scoffed.

Okay now? I'm not okay now. I don't think I'll ever be okay again.

Over 18 months ago, I received the most brutal beating of my life. My father whipped me with his belt until I was a bloody mess. Aunt Pam had to listen, helplessly, as I screamed and cried.

Then Dad had Aunt Pam dragged away and thrown on a plane to go home. He had Alfred tell her that if she didn't do as he said, my life would be worse. If I even got to live at all. The threat on my life scared Aunt Pam into submission.

Of course, my aunt tried her best to help me still. She called the police, and even called private investigators. No one would do anything. They all just kept making excuses. Without help from law enforcement, or a doctor to say that I was clearly being abused...

What could she really do other than wait?

And Aunt Pam waited much longer than she thought she would.

My father didn't stop beating me after his last threat. He was right in telling me that I would never break his rules again. Not after a beating like that.

Dad had punched me until I was unconscious. I was literally beaten to a bloody pulp. After that, Dad didn't call for help right away. Instead, he wrecked the apartment. Then he pulled my pants and underwear down to my ankles.

When the police and ambulance did arrive, it looked like a robberya.pe.

I woke up in the hospital four days later. I was confused and terrified. I couldn't talk or see out of my left eye. I was hooked up to so many tubes and machines that panic easily set in.

I was informed of what they thought had happened to me after I woke up. Investigators came to talk to me later that day. My jaw was wired shut, so I couldn't even speak, not that I would have. I refused to tell them anything. I was too scared to.

I was in the hospital for three months. I had a fractured jaw, and had to be wired shut for over six months. My left eye, thankfully, wasn't too damaged, so I didn't lose my sight. However, it created a small section of my iris to turn a lighter shade of blue than the rest of my eyes. It also left a very faint scar down my eye.

Aunt Pam wasn't allowed to see me, or talk to me. Dad had come by every other day. He promised that I was still going to Arizona though. Dad made sure to make it a point to remind me what would happen if I ever spoke again.

I know that he meant if I ever told anyone about the abuse, but... I took his words too literally. I didn't utter a word for over a year.

I was too afraid. Afraid that Dad would find out, that I would get beaten again, that Aunt Pam might get hurt in the process. I will never forgive myself for dragging her into this.

Dad kept his word though. After I was released from the hospital, I was sent to Aunt Pam. I had to have the wires removed from my jaw at a hospital there. I've been with Aunt Pam for over a year now, and I haven't heard from my father since. Unless you count the checks that he sends to Aunt Pam every month.

However, it's too late. The damage is already done. I'm too traumatized. Too broken.

I have these awful nightmares that cause me to wake up in the middle of the night gasping and crying. I'm not allowed to go to therapy because of Dad's hold on me. I didn't speak. I barely ate. I couldn't control my anxiety and panic attacks enough to go to school.

I was an empty, broken shell.

After about six months of this, Aunt Pam couldn't take it anymore. She had a sit down with me. Aunt Pam said that if I wouldn't go to a therapist, maybe she could be my therapist. I think that she thought that if I could just let it all out... That, at least, that would be a start.

And it worked. Kind of.

At first, I couldn't figure out how to communicate. I've always pretty much been a mute, but no one ever cared enough to try to communicate with me. So, Aunt Pam gave me a notebook.

That was the start. I would write out everything that I felt. How scared I was that Dad would pop up at any moment. How I just wanted to die. How afraid I was to live at all. How guilty I felt.

Aunt Pam started to break down my fears and worries. We worked on them, but... It's... still a process.

About three months ago, I was able to talk again. I mostly just stutter, and can only get out a few words, but it's progress. Aunt Pam told me to try turning my fear into anger. She made a huge point about not letting Dad win, but...

I don't want to make a big deal about things. I just want to have a simple life. I want a friend, I want to laugh, I want to go to school dances, maybe even join a club. I don't want to be angry or afraid. I just want... to live quietly.

Last month, Aunt Pam said that she thinks I should start school. I was too scared to, and honestly didn't want to. Aunt Pam is really good at giving pep talks though.

"You're going to march into that school with your head held high," Aunt Pam said. "You're going to smile at people who smile at you, and say hello. You're going to have a great first day, and even make a friend. Alright?" She asked.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, and nodded.

Aunt Pam is right. I can do this. This is a fresh start. A brand new start for me. No one knows who I am here, or what I've been through. I'm too far away from Dad for him to hurt me. I'll be fine. Everything is fine.

Although, the last time I thought that....

I shook my head. No, Aunt Pam is right. It's different this time.

See what I mean, good at pep talks.

"Do you want me to walk with you to the office?" Aunt Pam asked.

I nodded.

"Alright, let's go." She said.

Aunt Pam and I walked down the hall. I looked around the empty hallways, and peeked into the classrooms. The secretary in the office is chatting Aunt Pam's ear off about how good of a school this is. Apparently all the local rich kids go here too.

I looked down to notice my shoe was untied. I bent down to tie it, and by the time I stood back up, Aunt Pam and the secretary were gone. I looked around, and was starting to panic.

Oh no... I'm lost... On my first day. A-am I going to have to ask someone for help? W-what if... what if they tell my dad that I spoke without his permission? Oh no.. This is bad...

"They went that way."

I jumped at the sound of a male's voice. I turned my head slowly to peek at the source of the voice. My eyes widened when I realized how close this boy was to me.

I jumped back, as I looked the boy up and down. He has a head full of thick black hair. His eyes are the deepest brown I've ever seen in my life. He's tall, and looks like he's hispanic if I had to guess.

"You stopped to tie your shoe. They went that way, to the right." He told me, pointing down the hall.

I looked down the hall, then back to him. He just blinked at me. No smile, no emotion at all. It somehow... makes me feel at ease. Most people either give me fake smiles, or looks of pity. Having someone act so... neutral is kind of refreshing,

This is my chance to reply.

"Th-th-thank y-you..." I whispered.

Then I turned around, and ran down the hall. I easily caught up with Aunt Pam. I don't think either of them even saw that I had been left behind. My heart is racing as I thought about what just happened.

Holy crap... I really talked...!