The Sound of Silence

Ingrid Hollis. Selective Mutism/ Separation Anxiety Family first.

[wnq-movies]

I'’m a quiet person. I spend time observing, not speaking.

Norman Reedus (via thelovejournals)

[quietingrid-blog]

david-patton-bihqrp‌:

David blinked in confusion. Out of all the things he had been expecting: her glaring at him, her shouting at him, her running away, seeing the girl scribbling on a piece of paper wasn’t one of them. Then again, David should have been putting away his expectations of people: especially the people of Brielle. At least the Community had taught him how to read… He took the piece of paper, his eyes scanning it over. She could hear him though, right? She had responded to him… but just without talking. So that meant he could probably just talk to her normally. “Oh, yeah… that seems like a good idea,” David agreed. Why the hell had he even put himself there to begin with? Curiosity. Damn that. And with that, he started walking away to the outskirts, all but practically jogging away from the mass of people.

Ingrid nodded, following behind and matching his pace. Any way to get away from there. It was tiring to be alone all the time, and Emelie was so much more... extroverted than Ingrid had found herself. “It’s kind of stupid, right? That they keep trying to force us all together and like each other or something? Can’t they just accept that we don’t even need to be here?” The boy seemed relatively normal, so Ingrid couldn’t see why he’d belong here. “Maybe some do. But, most of us don’t. They’re just glorified babysitters.”

[quietingrid-blog]

charlieswann‌:

The boy turned briefly his back towards her as she took off her shirt, just to be sure and all. As he turned back around he shrugged. “I have no clue, I don’t think so to be honest… But I’m sure one of the nurses will know~ Or no, even better Eden will know. She has a kid I’m sure that little one has spilled something in her life time. Maybe we should find her..!”

The boy seemed so much more positive about the situation than Ingrid could. “I don’t know who Eden is...” She began, nervously beginning to wonder if the woman in question would even want to help a silly girl who refused to speak. Especially one she didn’t know. “Is she nice? You think she’d care? I don’t want to be a bother.”

[quietingrid-blog]

simonabbot‌:

“I do. My job is hardly ever boring, I’ll admit.” Simon laughed. “But I find it very rewarding. It feels like I’m really making a difference.”

“I’m sure you are. Do most of the littler kids see you as like.. a father figure?”

[quietingrid-blog]

just-jim-balon‌:

He heard her before he saw her—but not the way he’d think. It was a scratch and rustle of paper. Fingers padding and sliding across a page, a pencil, scribbling and soft.. 

He watched her, confused—and by the time he was reading the words she held up to him, he was still half preoccupied with thoughts about why she was writing, rather than speaking. His gaze flicked up to her fawn-like face for a couple of beats before he actually replied. 

And when he did, he was momentarily sidetracked. “Are you on some kind of pledge? Or did some pervert cut out your tongue to keep you from screaming?” A pause, his thumb rubbing over his nose to settle an itch as he looked away briefly, then back again. “Wait, let me guess—your father, right?”

It was harsher than necessary. Brash and probably uncalled for. But over the years he’d begun to relish in the satisfaction of saying things that sliced. Maybe because the sting of others’ discomfort was just about all he felt, anymore. 

Sighing, Ingrid stuck her tongue out, proving she did, in fact, have one. No one ever understood why she didn’t talk - some people didn’t make a big deal of it. Others? They judged her openly. If they only got to know her, they’d understand. Or maybe they just wouldn’t care.

“I just don’t want to talk. It’s not a huge deal. I don’t even know how this qualifies me being here.” She wrote down, a rosy tinge to her cheeks. “No. My father would never hurt me. I just don’t want to talk.”

She could feel a bit of anxiety building up within her, the thought of her sister and all the trauma she’d been through with her tumor and all... no, there was nothing wrong with Ingrid. If they’d only focus on Emelie.. “Anyways, you can get stuff here. For a price. Like I was saying.”

[quietingrid-blog]

emeliehollis‌:

“I know.” Emelie responded, nodding. She did love it but she was also getting quite tired as the days passed on and while the cabin was nice and she was with her sister, she wanted to go back. “You know we can’t go home… come on, let’s go somewhere quiet.”

Her signs were frustrated as she replied, “But why? You can see a doctor at home. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be around your sister, so they can just send me home. No big deal.”

[quietingrid-blog]

flipsidexlavinia‌:

Carrie shrugged her shoulders, finding herself bored by the girl, but truth was, she was bored by everything in this moment. “Fine,” she said, looking to start moving with the -clearly- painfully shy girl. “Do you really plan on having friends you can’t even talk to? What is that anyway - this mute thing of yours?”

Ingrid could take a hint, so she began to walk towards the lake, the blonde’s questions not uncommon to her. What was so wrong with remaining quiet in solidarity? It just felt.. natural now. Ingrid wasn’t even sure she remembered how to talk at this point, “I’m still having a conversation. Just... differently. It’s not a big deal. Do you really think you’re going to have friends if you’re always defensive and mean?” 

[quietingrid-blog]

danas-symphony‌:

Having been crossing through the camp with her guitar packed over her shoulder, the brunette smiled - chocolates irises glazing across the campsite. There was something so RELAXING about being away from work… Even though she was practically still AT work. Being torn away from her trail of thought the second she saw two people forcefully pushing against one another, her footsteps stopped, taking in the situation - Cory and Sebastian had dived in between the two males whose chests were pushed out like snakes, but there was somebody else in the background looking HUMILIATED. Concerned brows lifted into worry as she darted over to the brunette, holding her up by the arm as she regathered herself. “Hey, hey. You’re okay. I mean, a little bit DAMP but okay… We’ll get out of here and get you cleaned up. My cabin is literally THERE, I’m sure I have a spare shirt.” 

Her cheeks were still aflame with embarrassment, but something could be said for decreasing embarrassment in numbers. No longer was she the lonely girl covered in punch, but now, the girl who was covered in punch with someone to comfort her. The brunette managed a little smile, glancing over where the woman pointed her cabin to be. She nodded, beginning the walk over, her arms clutching across her front in a tight hug. As they headed towards the cabins, the brunette quickly jotted on a piece of paper, “Thanks.” As an insecure teenage girl, the thought of her most recent humiliation was LITERALLY the end of the world. “Everyone saw. I know it. They all saw that. They never going to let me live it down.”

[onlinecounsellingcollege]

So, if you are too tired to speak, sit next to me because I, too, am fluent in silence.

R. Arnold (via onlinecounsellingcollege)

[quietingrid-blog]

simonabbot‌:

“No problem” Simon smiled. “I look after the kids. Kids make messes. They have fun with markers, they spill drinks… you get the idea. Carrying a spare shirt or two is much peferable to being covered in kool-aid.”

“I guess I didn’t know that was your job.. Makes a whole lot more sense now.” Ingrid wrote with a light smile, shrugging one shoulder, “I take it you like kids, then? Must be a hard job.”

[just-jim-balon]

The wave-ragged piece of driftwood is warm beneath his thighs as he sits, more restless than he’d like. Than he should be, or could be, on a beach in Mexico—but if you’d told him his first time making the trip would be with a bunch of headcases and nurses for chaperones…. a wax strap around his wrist not to indicate his legal drinking age, or the resort in which he belonged, but to his disorder and his condition and the level of security risk he represented… well, he’d either have laughed, or punched you. Perhaps both, order of which undetermined. 

He could feel sweat collecting in a damp sheen below his hairline, and with a sigh, shoulders tight, he dipped his head forward and ran his fingers up the back of head, threading between the short hairs at the back of his neck. They were getting longer. He needed a trim. 

He needed a lot of things. 

He needed a fucking cigarette. 

Eyes closed, the echo of shrill screams of laughter and ill-placed joy of those playing around at the water’s edge, sounded like ghost stories in his eardrums. Faint reminders that he must be hallucinating, because how could he be here? Could this be some kind of fucked up nightmare? Was he trapped in the irony of this pathetic excuse for a distraction? 

He wondered, if he ran, how long it would take him to get to the border. If he could lose them, somewhere. Or—if he just never crossed back over it. In Mexico, could the law of his own country touch him? 

A pulsing wave of pain behind the bridge of his nose. The faint taste of nausea at the back of his tongue. 

“Fuck. Who do I have to blow for a fucking smoke around here?” he muttered, mostly to himself, unaware that there was actually someone close enough to hear. 

[quietingrid-blog]

Ingrid never said no to a quiet place to reflect or to simply decompress from all the stimulation that seemed to follow anything related to Brielle. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but she simply happened to be in the exact place at the exact time. Her big blue eyes blinked, a bit taken aback by the way he’d verbalized his complaint, but she didn’t judge. 

Grabbing her notebook, she decided she could fill him in on some rumors she’d heard about. “I heard you could ask this lady who runs the confiscation room for things like that. She’ll get them to you... for a price. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but it’s probably the best answer I can give you.”

[quietingrid-blog]

charlieswann‌:

Auch. The boy had seen hit happen. The red drink spilling all over the white top. That were going to be stains not easily removed… With big steps he walked straight towards her, the beach towel he had draped around his shoulder quickly removed as he put it over her shoulders. “If you want that stain to ever get out you probably should get that top off and washed right now!” The boy said seriously as he took a look around seeing if he could find the culprit that had smashed into her.

Keeping the towel over her shoulders to keep her covered, she managed to shimmy out of the shirt. As modest as possible. Anything was better than feeling the damp drink against her skin. “You think it’ll come out washing it like regular? Or maybe they have something special for red stains. What gets blood out, maybe it would be the same situation?” The male seemed trustworthy enough - if he wasn’t, why would he even offer help? Maybe her questions were weird, but she didn’t wanna ruin her shirt. 

[quietingrid-blog]

simonabbot‌:

“Here, do you want this?” Simon asked, taking a shirt from his backpack. He tended to keep an extra shirt or a jacket with him, in case things got messy, which they often did with kids. He kept his voice low, noticing how embarrassed the other girl seemed. “You can put it over what you’re wearing until you get a chance to go back to your cabin.”

Quickly, Ingrid pulled the spare shirt over her head, the accident instantly being forgotten from her shirt - at least, visually. “Thanks. It’s hard enough making friends around here, let alone being the girl who’s invisible and only noticed when there’s a giant red stain on her shirt.” She explained through writing, a half smile on her lips that didn’t feel quite genuine. “How come you keep this stuff with you?”

[quietingrid-blog]

tripmasterson‌:

It was the clamouring of two patients that caught Malcom’s attention but at the same time there was a subtle force against his back as a girl had apparently gotten herself caught in the crossfire. He had been in the middle of turning and during the motion her back landed against his bicep allowing him to reach out with his other arm and catch her slightly, palm gripping her own muscle lightly. “Hey!” The janitor shouted toward the two now fleeing patients. “Fuckin’ assholes…” He muttered, the words sounding off in unison in his head, both he and the other had spoken. Giving his head a slight shake, the motion causing his brunette curls to shiver this way and that Malcom turned his opalescent eyes back down toward the girl who’d collided with him, her front now dripping crimson - the stain undeniable. “Oh shit, are you okay? You’re probably gonna wanna change that - I wonder if the resort has a laundry service, they must right?” The last portion of his sentence had just been a ramble, his nearly night black eyes scanning the beach for some kind of staff other than those that worked at Brielle. He was vaguely aware that he was still holding the girl and upon fully coming back to their moment he withdrew his hands entirely, holding them up now as a criminal would had an officer told them to put their hands up before rubbing them against his thighs nervously. “Sorry! Uh - you’re good though, right?”

Everything felt like it happened so quickly - the shove, the spill, the unfamiliar male grabbing onto her, and the letting go. Her mind hardly even had time to process it all, the only feeling of embarrassment having resounded in her mind, despite that it had begun to drift away. The irritating boys who’d ruined her evening were gone, a kind soul had taken notice of her, and eyes had drifted away from the situation now that the fight hadn’t continued. Her hand shook, though, as she began her note, “I hope so. I liked this shirt. My sister gave it to me. Is that how boys act all the time? Apparently I haven’t spent much time around groups of them. Like wild animals.” She shook her hand, adding another sentence, “I’m fine. Thanks for helping. Are you helping out here? I haven’t seen you before.” 

[quietingrid-blog]

flipsidexlavinia‌:

“If you say so,” she breathed annoyed, sliding her hand down the length of her ponytail. She looked down at the paper and then up at the girl, “Are you saying that like you actually want to go with me? Sounds…brave. In a real stupid kinda way. Unless you’re just offering it up as a choice for me to entertain myself.”

Ingrid shrugged slowly. What else did she really have to do? Sure, the blonde was... rough around the edges, but she wouldn’t actually harm her... right? “Could be fun. I mean, I wasn’t really doing anything but sitting here, so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to get out and do something. Maybe we’ll be friends.”

[quietingrid-blog]

corypowellbriins‌:

Cory just so happened to look across the room at the correct moment to spot the mishap. Trying to not draw any more attention to the girl he quietly made his way over. Standing next to the girl he shrugged his jacket off and held it out to the girl. “Thought you could use this.” 

Wiping away a stray tear, the brunette pulled the jacket across herself, grateful for the older man’s kindness. Reaching for her notebook, she wrote, “Thank you. I’ve never been around this many people in one place. Or if I have, no one was getting all rowdy. Are you sure you won’t be cold?”

[quietingrid-blog]

emeliehollis‌:

Emelie wasn’t that aware of the trouble but she also wasn’t far behind, looking around as she walked. It was good to be out here, it felt nice not to be cooped up. Turning her gaze forwards again, she noticed her sister suddenly covered in liquid. She hurried over, frowning, her hands coming up to sign. “What happened, are you okay?”

Her hands began to sign as well, almost feeling like a secret language, since most of the staff and patients didn’t know ASL. “This place is madness. No one pays any attention to what they’re doing, they just wanna fight and be stupid. I think I hate it here, don’t you think they can just send us home?”