Solange’s POV
She stared at the walls of her bedroom, but not seeing anything. Her senses were dull and her feelings were numb. Desensitized. Every once in a while, emotions would sneak through the fogginess and the girl’s stomach would twist painfully, her heart skipping a beat. The emotions were inspired by the thoughts that fluttered around in her head.

It was a strange kind of pain. One that feels like it suffocates you and doesn't let you move. The feeling makes you become it, swallowing you whole and dragging you down... making you lethargic and apathetic. The knock on the door pulled the girl out of her thoughts briefly. She didn't respond, but just continued lying there.

"Dinner is made if you want some food. Are you going to come eat, Solange?"Her mother asked, the voice registering in the girl’s mind.

"No," Solange whispered inaudibly, her voice cracking. She was met by silence and her gaze flickered over to the door in a moment of curiosity. Solange saw her standing there, her hip cocked to the side. She looked at her mom as if to say 'what?' but she just shook her head and sighed, closing the door behind her. Disappointment radiated off of her. It is the only feeling that she could register from her parents. They loved her but she couldn't ever feel it. It could never break through the fogginess.

‘I am tired of this. I felt trapped inside of my head. Slowly deteriorating... I wanted to stay happy but it felt impossible. Too out of reach. I have to escape this. It's all in my mind. But it feels so real. But I feel so numb...’
My vision refocused from the memory as I watched the rest of the people in my class talk and bustle around me, the loudness hurting my ears, and the teacher not bothering to control them. They’re just a bunch of animals that never pay attention in school. I listened silently to a conversation behind me.
“And, like, I almost burned off my hair again. Plus I’m totally sick of these split ends but I have to, like, keep straightening my hair,” the girls annoying voice finished with a dramatic sigh, while I fidgeted in my seat.
“Omg, that sucks,” came the others girl’s intelligent reply. I rubbed my palms over my eyes, not really trying to do anything. I pulled my hoodie sleeves further over my hands and glared at the teacher to do something. But I couldn’t ask him. I couldn’t ask anybody… or talk. I had to stay silent, or else I would just end up being hurt over and over again. I think my teachers have gotten used to me not speaking. That, or they just don’t notice me anymore. Probably the latter. My classmates never cared. I let my thoughts overwhelm me as the noise around me continued…
My parents we standing at the foot of my bed, me just sitting crisscrossed, trying to listen to my music and ignore them. They pleaded with me again. It had been a week since I stopped talking, and people finally started to worry. At first they thought I was mad and trying to give everybody the “silent treatment”, but I still don’t think they understand even now.
“Honey, what’s wrong? Just tell us,” my mom said, as my dad added a small, “We can help you,” at the end. I just shook my head and grabbed a pillow to hold to my stomach. It was obvious that they weren’t planning on leaving any time soon. They went through the same questions that everybody else had asked. What happened? Was it something at school? Was someone mean to you? And the last one stood out the most…
“Do you think you’re ugly or something?” The question rang out in the silence as my mom sort of glared at my dad. What kind of a question was that? Why would that have anything to do with me not talking? I grabbed my bag and stuffed my phone and earbuds inside with everything else and stormed out of the room.
“What? She’s a teenage girl. Don’t they worry about those sorts of things?” I heard my dad say faintly as I walked out the front door. I had to be by myself, where no one would pressure me to talk. I started the short walk to a small baseball park by my house. I had been walking for a while until I made it to the small stand behind the fence. I liked to sit up here because people would walk by and not see me- so it was the perfect place to be alone. After I had chosen a song, I tilted my head back and stared out at the darken sky. It was nice to be here in the quiet. My eyes slipped shut as my fingers played with the threads on the holes in my jeans. Stupid pants. I would have to throw them away soon… After about the seventh song, the chain covering the doorway rattled and someone hopped inside. I flinched in shock and my bag dropped off the think bench onto the floor as the person’s head snapped over to me.
“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t know anyone would be here,” the boy said apologetically. I just stared at him wide-eyed. “Hey… Don’t you go to Tucker High?” He asked. I nodded my head slowly. “Yeah, I thought I knew you.” He stood there a little awkwardly. “My name is Frank.” I still stared back at him in silence. “Do you talk?” He added slowly, sort of laughing. I guess he thought I was shy or something. I paused for a few seconds before I finally shook my head slightly. The grin dropped from his face.
“I’m sorry,” he said. Why was he apologizing? It’s not like it was his fault. I sat back down. Frank looked like he couldn’t decide whether he should stay or go, but he ended up taking a seat across from me on the bench. I scooted my feet back closer to me, wrapping my arms around my legs at the same time. Apprehensively, I pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen from my bag and wrote my name in my spiky handwriting.
Solange
I handed the paper to Frank. I haven’t written anything for anybody for a week now. The communication scaring me. But Frank seemed different and I felt like I had to tell him at least my name. He smiled again, once he read the paper.
“Your name?” He asked. I nodded again. “It’s nice to meet you,” he finished, holding out his hand, which I grabbed, “even if it is in unusual circumstances.” I smiled. Maybe I could trust him, unlike all the other people. Maybe he could actually be my friend.
I snapped back to reality as the bell rang, signaling the for the last class of the day. At least Frank would be in art with me. He has been my friend for almost a year now, still tolerating my stubborn, but necessary silence and he was now the best friend I have ever had…

Notes

So I got home at 4 after having the most stressful school day ever, and I have been working on homework since then and I'm still not done... It's past 9. Hey, teachers? Go to hell. Thanks.
...I feel like no one wants to read this. :( This is a completely new chapter, so I hope that people read it. It's part of my more recent writing since I went back and re-wrote this, so I think it's better.