Theresa isn't mine. She belongs to Marvel. I'm using her without permission. Continuity wise this happens just after Feral rips her throat out when she's on the way to visit her aunt. I know it's rude to ask for feedback but PLEASE?
Silent
by Bounce
It's late autumn, almost winter. I'm sitting here in this bloody train, resting my head against the window. I was surprised by how cold the glass was. I guess I guess I'm running away again. You wouldn't think to look at me but I've been running for years. I ran away, joined X-Force when things got bad at Muir. Then I ran away from Jimmy's love. And now I'm running again. Running away from X- Force this time.
It's surprising how left out of things you are when you can't talk. Everyone tried so hard to include me in conversations and just to talk to me. But it's a little hard to keep up a conversation with someone who can only nod in reply. Of course I could have written notes, did sometimes, but I was feeling shitty. Shocked, depressed and angry. So I didn't care that it was hurting the others that I wouldn't even write notes.
The train pulls to a stop, jerking me out of my thoughts. It's almost full but the seats next to me are empty. Some little kid ends up sitting next to me, his mother next him. He's hyper, all bouncing and excited. I wish he'd go to hell. After about five minutes he gets bored with looking out the window. Decides to talk to me instead.
"Hi! I'm Tommy. What's your name?" I pull the notebook and pen out of my pocket and write my name. Theresa Rourke. Once known as Siryn, but I don't tell Tommy that.
"Hey how come you wrote down your name instead of just saying it?" Because I can't talk anymore or scream or sing or laugh or shout. Because an ex-teammate of mine ripped out my throat during a fight. I touch my throat and shake my head.
"Huh? What does that mean?" He repeats the gesture.
'It means I can't talk anymore.' My handwriting's messy. I hope Tommy can read it. He looks kind of sad now.
"That must be horrible. How did you end up not able to talk?" The question hurts. I wonder if it'll ever stop hurting.
'I had an accident. A friend of mine hurt my throat.'
"Oh" He answered in a very small voice. "Why'd your friend hurt you?"
'We were having a fight. I don't think she meant to though.' Yeah right. I'm lying my bloody head off, here. She would have killed me if Jimmy hadn't stopped her.
"Your voice'll get better though won't it?" I shrug.
"Maybe?" I nod.
"Maybe I'll get better, too." A single tear rolled down his cheek. He wiped it away. "But I'm not going to get sad today 'cos I'm going to visit my Grandma and Grandpa and Grandma gets real sad when I get sad." I look at Tommy. Really look at him. He's too thin, even for a little kid. His eyes are too big and his skin is so pale it's almost transparent. He's wearing a red "New York" cap and I noticed that he's only got a few thin wisps of hair. I feel like I've been hit in the guts. My stop comes and I smile at Tommy and wave goodbye to him, and to Siryn. She's dead, has been for a few weeks now. It's time to start being Theresa Rourke again. Time to stop running away.
It's going to be hard. I'm not fool enough to think otherwise.