My sister always said I had a big mouth. I didn’t mind. Maybe that’s why I never had too many friends my age in school, at college, or even in the office. My entire social circle seemed to consist of older men and women whose joints creaked as they walked.
My sister, Morgan once threw a party at our house while my parents were outside for work, though if you asked her, they were just sucking up to anyone willing to pay them a dime. My parents say she’s the way she is because my mother was sick when she was born, so she was raised by way more liberal people on my dad’s side of the family.
Maybe that’s why we never got along.
“You have such a big mouth Sandra! Be careful, or one day you won’t be able to close it again.”
I never paid attention to her. For me, rules are rules. They exist for a reason. My friends didn’t get this either. Maybe that’s why I never had too many, or why they always became friends with me just to get free tutoring.
I can still hear the whispers. The hissed comments behind my back.
“Big mouth.”
“Snitch.”
“Blabbermouth.”
I got bullied more than once for it, but my mom and dad always made it up to me. I never broke rules, unlike my sister. I didn’t pester mom and dad into taking me to the playground. I never snuck out. I stayed home and studied like a good little girl.
I deserved Christmas presents. I deserved birthday parties. So I got them. My sister didn’t. That isn’t controlling. That isn’t neglect or cold. That’s fair. My parents were the kind of people who gave us what we deserved, not what we wanted.
But…now, I wonder. Maybe they were wrong? I don’t know. I honestly don’t know anymore.
I remember the day it started. It was a Monday morning, and I got up nice and early. I stretched and put on the biggest smile I could make. My father liked it better when I smiled. He said it helped him get work done, so he could come back to me and mom as quickly as possible.
When I walked to the office, people were giving me weird glances. I was confused, and asked Dave, one of my co-workers, what’d happened. He’d always been nice to me. Nicer than most, at least.
I will never forget the way he looked at me. The anger and betrayal, splattered onto his face for everyone to see. It sent shivers down my spine, reminding me of how my father looked when he was mad. I never liked it when he got mad, so I tried my best to make sure he didn’t.
“Dave?” I asked, smiling brightly. Just like my father taught me.
He stared at me, and I shivered again. Ice crept up my spine.
That’s when I noticed his eyes. They were wild, with purple bags underneath them.
“Dave?”
He screamed, lunging at me with full force. I shrieked for help, but no one rushed to my aid. He kicked and punched like a wild animal, a rabid dog. All while chanting the same word:
“WHY?”
“WHY?”
“WHY?”
Pain erupted in every part of my body. Blood spilled from my mouth as I spat out pieces of teeth. Bruises formed on my face while he ripped apart my hair. I shouted at him to stop, pleaded until I had no more voice left to do anything other than weep.
An eternity passed before security arrived. As they took him away in handcuffs, he screamed at me.
“You’ll pay for what you did to me! I WILL KILL YOU! YOU WILL PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID TO ME!”
I passed out after that.
When I woke up, I was in agony. My mouth hurt like someone had drilled a hole through all of my teeth. My scalp burned, and every time I tried to lift a finger my body flat-out rejected the idea. My hair had been torn apart, with bald patches appearing from thin air every few minutes. Only a few clumps remained.
But you know what’s worse than going through literal Hell and back? It’s not the pain. It’s the fact that no one cares.
When I got back to work, people acted like it was no big deal. No one wanted me to get better. In fact, when I came back they looked…disappointed. As if, somehow, me being healthy again was an affront to everything they were.
The only time they spoke to me was to tell me that I sucked. Someone had told the upper management that Dave had been drinking on the job. What with my reputation as a “snitch”, he thought it was me.
The come-down was hard. Dave was fired immediately. He’d lost everything…
And he blamed me.
I didn’t come to work after that. I don’t even think I can anymore. I’m not sure what’s happened to me, but it’s bad. My mouth… just refuses to close. Like someone unscrewed all the hinges and left it wide open. I’ve tried calling someone, but I have no internet.
The door to my apartment’s locked from the outside, if that makes sense. I live on the highest floor; there’s no one to call for help. Even if I did, they’d probably just ignore me. One less canary to worry about.
I want to scream, but I can’t make a sound. Even as the tears stream down my face, I can’t produce a single sob. Somewhere in my throat, the sound gets caught up, and I cannot force it out.
My sister always said I had a big mouth. And now, I can never close it again.