The Alpha's Mute [BXB]

04 | chapter four

Niklaus Wade

      He's not leaving. I thought he'd leave after a bit of time passed or even immediately after Elliot left but he didn't. We migrated onto my bed from off of the floor, I don't remember how it happened but it did and now I'm in this quiet room of mine with no sound drifting about except the sound of Gnashtons breathing.

He's breathing heavily, probably through his mouth but I can't really tell. I'm not looking at him, I forced myself to look at my hands that lay on my lap. I notice the cuts and peeled skin on my thumb and middle finger, I kept picking at it out of nervousness which leads to the bruises on my fingers.

My nails are also awfully short because I bite my nails before they can grow and my habit of gnawing on my nails until my fingers bled was coming back. I believed that it was due to Weston but even now that he's out of the picture I still can't help but do it especially as it grows closer to my birthday.

I don't think I'll find my mate the day of my birthday, I don't think I'll be lucky enough to find my mate ever. Hazel is lucky, people like her live without any trauma, without having to stay up late at night because they're afraid they'll have that same dream that leaves them trembling. They live without feeling caged, without that suffocating feeling like they can never escape because despite how many years have passed, despite how far I move, I will always be stuck in a cage that I call my mind.

Even as physical scars fade I harbor the most painful scar of not being able to speak, not being able to let others touch me and touch others. I have never been able to open up, not even to Hazel whom I considered my best friend.

'Think more positively,' psychiatrists told me, 'stop being so pessimistic,' adults have told me, 'don't pity yourself so much,' strangers say. It's easy to say this when you're not me. It's easy to act like you care but then turn your back when caring goes beyond simple words. I'm stuck in an endless abyss of self-hate, self-loathing.

Smile and say I'm fine so they'll turn away and take your word for it without questioning it but never will they see the tears behind every single 'I'm fine,' I write down for those to see.

Why am I like this?

I blink in surprise when I see Gnashtons hand hovering over my own. I realize my fingers were twitching this whole time. I look at Gnashton's hand, it was on top of mine but he wasn't touching me though I still felt the warmth of his skin.

What's wrong with me?

I should be freaking out, spasming and backing away until I awkwardly fall off the bed and hurt myself as I usually do but here I sit, my muscles calm and my heartbeat accelerating but not in the way it does when a panic attack is to ensue.