Hear Me Now

Hear Me Now

Hear Me Now

By

Melyssa Winchester

Copyright | 2014 Melyssa Winchester

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written consent of the Author.

This is a work of fiction. Names; characters; places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Cover Image Copyright Sivilla @ Shutterstock.

Cover Image Design by Melyssa Winchester

This story in these pages is dedicated to my second family. Linda, my mother, Mallory, my sister and Zach; the little man, the best little brother on the block. I love you all more than words can say and these stories would not be written without you
.

Prologue

Dillon

I am going to kill that son of a bitch. Everything was fine until he got involved.

Kayden Walker. The guy that thinks just because he fell in love with a retard, it somehow makes him better than the rest of us. He’s so full of shit his eyes should be brown.

He looks down on me, going out of his way to make my life a living hell when he’s the one that started all of this four years ago.

When I moved here about halfway through freshman year, he’d been the first person to give me the time of day. He saw my size and the scowl I always seem to wear and that’s all it took. We hit it off and never looked back. Within six months, we started picking people we saw as weaker than us and tortured them until soon, everyone knew not to mess with us.

Calling the rat squad on me was a dickhead move, but one I should’ve seen coming. It’s not like he didn’t warn me he was gonna do it.  A few
months ago, he made sure I knew that the way things have always been wasn’t gonna fly anymore, which is why being here now shouldn’t come as a shock.

I don’t know what the big deal is honestly. So I grabbed one of the stupid kids, pulled him into the locker room and wailed on him. I’ve been doing that shit for years and even though I’ve been warned a couple times, nothing’s ever been done before. All o
f a sudden it’s this big fucking deal and I’m having to sit here, my mom by my side and listen as the principal lays down his pathetic version of the law.

Daniels has
been gunning for me since Homecoming. I knew it was only a matter of time before I ended up here. Kayden didn’t have to tell him what he caught me doing, I would’ve landed here for some other reason. The guy’s got a hard on for me and quite frankly, it’s pissing me off. Maybe the next person I go after should be him instead of the special needs moron he’s defending.

“You don’t seem to get it. The way Dillon is behaving is because of his father leaving. He’s a good boy, Principal Daniels. I think you’re making a mountain out of a molehill.”

There she is.

My mother, Rebecca Murphy; clueless as ever.

It doesn’t matter how many times she sits in this chair, she still spouts off the same garbage. My problems are never my own, they’re always because of my father leaving or her addiction to pain medication. Maybe that’s half the reason I’m such an asshole. She never taught me to own my own shit. Whatever the reason for her excuses now, I’m tired of it.

“That may be, Mrs. Murphy, but it does not excuse his behavi
or. After what happened at Homecoming, we have implemented a zero tolerance policy for bullying and inappropriate contact of any kind.  Despite knowing this, he still refuses to comply and as such needs to be punished.”

Here’s where she begs him not to suspend me. If he does, I’m going to have to be home alone since because of her job she can’t watch over me. It’s always the same damn thing with her. I’m eighteen, yet she’s about to make me sound like I’m twelve.

“It’s not that I don’t think he should be punished for what he did, but have you even spoken to the other student? Dillon is not like this when he’s home with me. He’s a good boy. Maybe this other boy said something to get him riled up.”

“Eric Carmen did nothing but attempt to go home for the day. What your son did, he made the conscious decision to do. I am not sure how he appears to
you at home, but the way he behaves in the academic setting leaves something to be desired.”

I’ve heard enough of this shit. They’re only gonna go back and forth for the next hour debating this. Mom won’t believe I’m a bad seed or wha
tever and he’s gonna act like he gives a shit about what goes on here and not back down. I’m ending it.

“Can you just suspend me
so we can get this over with?” I interject, making both of them turn to me, finally acknowledging that they aren’t the only two people in the room. They might want to talk about me like I’m not even here, but I’m not having any part of it.

“He will do nothing of the sort!” She shouts, which makes me wanna scream back at her. She’s nothing but a doped out moron and if she managed to stay clean for five damn minutes, she might be able to see that the guy’
s telling her the truth.

I’m a first class douchebag. I’ve always been one and if she would pull her head out of her ass, she’d see it and maybe do some actual parenting for once, instead of always sweeping my shit under the rug.

“I did it, Mom! I took that stupid retard, slammed him against the lockers and beat the living piss out of him!”

“Dillon, Mommy is handling the situation. There’s no need for you to do this.”

Holy shit. She just doesn’t get it. It doesn’t even matter who’s telling her, she refuses to believe any of it.

“Look man,” I say, turning toward Daniels, hoping I’ll have better luck with him so we can get this whole stupid charade over with and I can get out of here. “You know I did it, I know I did it, so let’s just end it. Tell me how long I’m suspended for, so I can get the fuck out of here.”

His body tenses at my language and I laugh. He’s gonna sit here all calm knowing I beat on some retarded kid, but is gonna act shocked that I swear. Adults make no damn sense.

“Suspending you may have been the way we dealt with situations like this in the past, but that is not the approach we’re going to take this time around. In order for you to truly learn from what you’ve done, I do believe you need to experience it firsthand.”

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

“What did you have in min
d?” My mom asks, putting her two cents back into the conversation and leaving me wishing again that she’d just butt out. Being eighteen has to mean I deal with the stuff I do on my own; right? Isn’t that what being an adult is all about?

“Your son has spent the last six months picking out students and bullying them excessively. Sending him home is not going to teach him how wrong his actions are. Only when he has experienced time with the very people he’s been bullying will he truly grasp the gravity of the situation.”

This isn’t good. I know what he’s getting at, even though he’s using way too many words to get his point across. He’s not going to give me the easy way out this time; the way he did with Ames and the others months ago. This time he’s going to hit me right where it hurts.

“Effective immediately, I am pulling Dillon from his regular classes. From this moment on, he will report to Ms. Taylor’s class every day and it is there he will remain until such time as I have seen a change in him.”

Son of a bitch!

What the hell am I going to do now?

Chapter One

Cadence

I can’t believe I’ve got to do this for the next two weeks.

Being stuck at Wexfield High School is not my idea of a good time and I’m pretty sure my mom knows it. It’s the whole reason she moved me out of the regular elementary sch
ool years ago. She knew what being in the regular school atmosphere would bring down on me and I agreed. I should be spending my sophomore year at my school, not dealing with this.

The reason she wanted me in a different school, it’s because I’m deaf.

I’ve been deaf since birth, though no matter how many times I ask my mom to explain just what that means or even ask my doctor, I never get a straight answer for. I’ve taken to Google in order to get answers to how I ended up this way, but I’m starting to think there’s no answer to be found. It’s just a freak of nature kind of thing. I wasn’t born prematurely, my mom wasn’t diagnosed with anything when she was pregnant that would have caused it and there’s no family members on either side that are remotely hard of hearing.

So basically, I’m a freak of nature.

A deaf freak that up until this morning, attended Wexfield School for the Deaf and was more than happy about it.

Stupid pipes. If they hadn’t burst in the middle of the night, causing the entire second floor of the school to flood, I wouldn’t be here right now.

It figures my mom has to be one mother in the entire town that doesn’t want to leave me home alone for the two weeks it’s going to take them to sort the mess out. Things would be too simple if she did that.

When she got the call in the early hours of the morning, she started planning and by the time I woke up, she informed me of exactly what would be happening.

So here I am; standing in the hall just outside her classroom giving myself the mother of all pep talks in order to gather up the nerve to walk through the door.

It’s not that I’m afraid to be here, but when I’ve been in a place surrounded by people that are like me for so long, being thrust into a situation that’s
the complete opposite, it throws me off. I might be in my mom’s class and it might be with a bunch of kids that have their own struggles and difficulties, but it doesn’t mean they’ll be accepting of mine.

It’s something I would have expected the special education teacher to know or at least sympathize with. Guess I was wrong.

As I prepare to take the steps needed in order to make my way completely into the class, I feel a squeeze on my shoulder. It doesn’t take me long to figure out that it’s my mom. Even though she’d driven me to school, I’ve gone out of my way to avoid her since. It was only a matter of time before she found me. 

Walking around until she’s able to give me a once over, the world’s brightest smile on her face, she lifts her hands and starts signing. I dart my eyes around the room as she’s doing it, making sure no one is watching. It’s my first day here. I don’t want
a bunch of eyes focused on me; pitying me because I’m the deaf kid.

When I’m secure
no one is paying attention, I turn back and see that she’s caught me looking away. She knows that half of what she said, I didn’t even catch. Where most parents might get annoyed with having to repeat themselves, she just smiles at me and starts again.

S
he knows she doesn’t have to sign. Dealing with this my entire life with the help of speech therapy and spending so much time with her, I’ve learned to read lips easily. Well, easily if the person talking does it at an even pace.

Signing back as quickly as possible, letting her know that from now on, it would be easier if she would just speak
to me like normal, I motion to my seat and turn away from her. There’s a few minutes before the final bell so the sooner I get seated and focused, the faster I can get the first day in my two weeks of hell over with.

Accepting my response, she heads to the front of the room and I head for the first available seat I see, as far in the back as I can possibly get. It’s only when I get myself settled, pulling my book from my bag, preparing to read that the whole dynamic of the room changes.

Not being able to hear, I’m hyper sensitive in every other way. My sense of smell is more powerful, my sight unmatched and touch, well let’s just say that if it’s something I’ve experienced before, I can recognize it instantly. It’s that hypersensitivity that causes me to look up as the shadow makes its way through the door.

The guy that my eyes lock on looks about as thrilled to be here as I am and I start to wonder if he’s another kid from my school that somehow got
forced into showing up today the same as I did. It’s only when he scowls as he scans the room that I realize he’s not someone from my school at all, but another garden variety jerk. Not just any one either, but the worst one.

Dillon Murphy.

That’s another thing my mom told me this morning before practically forcing me in the car to come here. Not only was I going to be a new student in her class, but it seems this guy is too.

The way she explained it to me, Dillon is not a special needs kid, but he’s in desperate need of an intervention as far as his attitude goes and apparently this is the way the school is choosing to go about it. Making him a part of the very class full of students that he picks on so frequently.

I don’t see that working out well, but that’s because I’ve got experience with people like him. If anything, all putting him in here is gonna do is give him a bigger list of people to pick on.

We’re close, my mom and me. She shares her days with me and it’s because of this that I know all about this guy. I’ve never laid eyes on him before today though. So taking him in while he stands there looking like he wants to be anywhere else, I try and figure out what it is about him that makes him such a jerk.

He’s about average for a football player, standing a little bit taller than my mom and since I know she’s five ten, I figure he’s gotta be about six feet. His hair is shaggier than I would expect for a ball player, but not so long that I can see it causing a problem on the field. He’s kind of built, again, not a real surprise because of his position on the team, but not so much that he looks like the bodybuilders I’ve seen on TV.

Nothing about him stands out, at least it doesn’t until his scan of the room brings his eyes to me. As we lock on each other, it’s then I see the one thing about him that stands out more than anything else. Looking at me with a look of pure disgust on his face, are a pair of eyes the same chocolate brown color as my own.

Holy crap.

Shaking off my initial assessment, I lower my head until it appears as
though I’m focused on reading; when the reality is, I’m doing all I can not to respond to the eyes that in just a few seconds have managed to pierce straight through me. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but with the way I’m reacting, you would think I’d never seen a pair of brown eyes before.

This is crazy. I’m not supposed to find a damn thing
about Dillon Murphy attractive. With all the things my mom told me about him, he’s the last guy I want to get within a few feet of. His reason for being in this class is supposed to be a punishment, but if the chills I got when he looked at me are any indication, I’m the one that’s about to be punished.

This is definitely going to be the longest two weeks of my life.

Dillon

When I got up this morning, I had this idea of how my day was going to go. I’d head to school, meet up with my girlfriend, have a little fun with her, possibly finding another moron to pick on and then head to first period. It’s the same routine I’ve been doing for as long as I can remember and even though it was starting to get boring, I can’t deny the security I get from the familiarity of it.

That’s not at all what went down. As per his decision on Friday before my mother stormed out of his office, this day wasn’t going to turn out like the others. Standing at the front of the building waiting for me after I drive in and park was none other than Principal Daniels and he looked less than pleased to see me.

So much for having a little playtime with Ames before first period.

“Mr. Murphy! So glad you could make it.”

Yeah, I’m sure he’s real glad I made it today. I have no doubt he’s enjoying the hell out of shattering my reputation with this stupid stunt. I’m having to stop myself from telling him that this little plan of his is gonna fail miserably.  Best not to piss the guy off before he’s even attempted to straighten me out.

“Where else would I be?”

“Heading off to find that girlfriend of yours of course. I’m here to tell you that won’t be happening today.”

“Of course it’s not. I wouldn’t have the welcome wagon meeting me out front if it was.”

This really blows. I know I gotta go through with this shit, but does he really have to walk me to class like I’m a fucking kid? I’m pretty sure I can find the retard class all on my own. It’s not like it’s moved since the last time I was here.

“In order to make sure you comply with what I’ve put in motion, I’m going to be accompanying you to Ms. Taylor’s class today. She is eagerly awaiting your presence.”

Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s a load of bullshit. I’m sure the last thing she wants to deal with is having me in her class. It’s not exactly a secret that her students are the ones that brought all of this down on me. Eric and stupid Isabelle Reagan. Well, her and that asshole boyfriend of hers.

Thinking about Kayden just reminds me that the next time I see him, I don’t care if he’s ready for it or not, I’m gonna make him pay for this. If it wasn’t for him squealing like the little bitch he is, I’d be able to catch up with my girlfriend and actually enjoy my day.

“Fine, whatever. Can we just get on with it already?”

“After you.”

Damn. This guy isn’t gonna budge. So not only am I getting an escort to the damn class, but he’s gonna add insult to injury and follow behind me? All this shit because I threw a retard up against some lockers?

I’ve got to come up with a way to get out of this. I can’t do this for the rest of the year and that’s exactly what I’m looking at unless I can talk my way around it. I’m not gonna learn a lesson, let’s be completely honest, which means unless I can come up with a way out, I’m stuck here forever.

When we get to the class, I expect him to push me inside with as eager as he was to make sure I got here, but all he does is walk in and around me. I start to see it for the escape it is, but before I turn around and make a run for it, his attention is back on me again and I’ve missed my shot.

I’m officially stuck here.

“Make yourself comfortable, Mr. Murphy.”

If the son of a bitch calls me that again, sticking me in a retard class is gonna be the least of his concerns. I’ve never taken down an adult before, but with the way I’m feeling about this right now, I’m not against it. There’s a first time for everything.

The only Mr. Murphy I know is the sadistic bastard I like to call dear old dad. It’s bad enough that I have to be forced to spend actual time with the guy, I don’t need to be reminded of him in the one place I’ve used for the last four years to escape him and his sick idea of parenting.

They say everyone’s got a secret; I guess that’s mine. I hate my father because for the last six years, his idea of good parenting has been to throw me into fights with people bigger than me and make me work for every breath I take after the fact. The son of a bitch can rot in hell for all I care.

Making my way into the class, I take in everything going on around me. There isn’t a whole lot of people here yet, but the few kids I do see, I don’t recognize. These are all the ones I haven’t gotten around to harassing yet. I take stock of them, making a mental note for
the next time I see Tim again; my hatred at being here growing by the second. They can go ahead and think that putting me in here is going to change the way I am all they want. In the end, all they’re really doing is giving me an even bigger list of targets.

Morons.

Resigning myself to the fact that there’s no way I’m going to get out of here in the foreseeable future, I look for the nearest empty seat. Giving the room another full scan, hoping I can find a seat as far in the back as possible, I notice something that I didn’t catch the first time around. There’s a person stretched out at a desk in the far left of the room. A girl, and with the way she’s looking at me, it appears as though she caught me staring at her.

She’s new. I know this because I would definitely remember seeing someone that looks like her around. I might have a girlfriend, but it doesn’t mean I’m blind. If this girl went here
, I would’ve noticed and judging by the look on her face, she looks about as thrilled to be here as I am.

Her caramel colored hair might be covering the majority of her face, but there’s no mistaking the eyes looking back at me. They’re the mirror image of my own and if she didn’t look so damn hot, I might find the whole exchange creepy as hell. The way her gaze is trained on me,
it’s like she knows me, which is impossible since I have no clue who she is.

Before I can look away, I watch her head dip back down toward the desk and following her movements, I see she’s now attempting to bury her attention in a book.  That’s fine, she can look away all she wants. Odds are, eve
n with the look of annoyance I caught on her face, she’s like Isabelle anyway and that’s the last thing I need to be getting involved with.