I'd Write A Song, But I'll Never Be Able To Sing It

Amelia Cathrine Way is mute. She was born a mute. There's nothing anyone can do to make the girl speak. But instead, she plays guitar. Her voice is an instrument.
Miles Iero is an outcast, and his only solace is a guitar and a thirst for vengance.
When the two meet, they form a shaky and strained friendship, and maybe it'll turn into more should they try hard enough?


1. "Hi, my name's Amelia Way and I'm a mute."

Standing in front of the new class was hard. Everyone stared at me, waiting for me to say something. Waiting for me to reveal myself, and waiting to see where I came from. I wish I could do that. I wish I had an accent, even if it was the same accent they spoke. I wish I could tell them what I thought, and simply to raise my hand and answer.

But I can’t. I can’t ever say a thing, because I was born that way. Weak vocal chords, that’s what they said. The doctors tried, they really did. But still, I learned to be mute, unable to speak, unable to sing, unable to scream out my frustration and tell the world what I think of them.
Words don’t have the same effect when they’re written on paper. Paper can be burned; it can scribbled out, removed from the world. But who can deny the words engraved in someone’s memory, or when someone openly says it themselves?

I passed the teacher my handwritten note, neat and immaculate on the new white notebook. My handwriting was curled and traditional, unlike the scribbles some people called writing. She took, her lifeless grey eyes scanning over the lines. In an instant, her face dropped into a sad regretful frown, and she glanced at me with an expression of pity. I couldn’t stand it, I wasn’t to be pitied. I was born this way, and people should accept me for it.

“Hi, I’m Amelia Way, and I’m mute. I was born this way, weak vocal chords. They’ve tried everything, but no avail. So I can’t speak, and if I don’t reply, that’s because I can’t. However, I’m a fast writer and I have good handwriting, so you should still try and have a conversation with me if you wish to.” The teacher read for me, her voice lined with pity. I scowled, her voice was like someone desperate to break out of prison, and she hated being a teacher. I could tell, maybe those with voices missed the little details of a voice. It can betray everything; a person’s voice will tell you everything if you listen close enough.

“That’s… Unfortunate Amelia. Please, sit down next to… Mr Iero at the back there.” She told me, her eyes gesturing a short man at the back of the room. He smiled at me, and patted the seat next to him with what only seemed like… Joy?

I walked over, feeling the gazes of the entire Year 11 Science class fall upon me like a heavy cloud. I could almost feel some girls glaring venomously, thinking something I dreaded to even consider. A couldn’t see them, but I could tell from the whispers.

I sat down, throwing my bag under the table, and my new partner smiled broadly and whispered “Hey Amelia.” I smiled, his voice was nice and warm. He honestly could be bothered to get to know me, and he was, curious. It was curiosity I think.

Hi! What’s your name Mr. Iero?

I showed him my notebook, with the words scribbled down across about 4 lines. He smiled and replied “I’m Miles. And no, I’m not Frank Iero’s son.” I smiled at that, making movements as if I was giggling, even if no sound came out.

You can’t be. You wouldn’t be here if you was. Anyways, it’s nice to meet you Miles. Do you play guitar though? I play guitar.

“Well I love how you assume I play guitar because my last name’s Iero. But yes, I do. It’s a shame you’re a… Well, I’d of asked you whether you can sing Miss Way.”

I shut my eyes and smiled, before scribbling down something else.

Well obviously I can’t! Anyway, you like Science?

Miles shrugged and replied “Meh, it’s okay. Everything’s okay in this school. Just stay safe from certain, and you’ll survive.” I nodded, and was about to write another reply when a voice shot from across the classroom “Miles! I know Miss Way is interesting, but please, anymore and you’ll be sitting right in front of me!”

That seemed to shut him up, and then I looked across at his worksheet curiously, before getting bored of watching him write and went to scribbling in my notebook, waiting for class to end or to be given a worksheet. One of the two and I didn’t care which.

So after a while, I listened for whispers. Any voices I could hear, but nobody spoke a word. So I listened for anything and I wasn’t impressed. Scribbles of pens, tapping the pens against the old wooden desks.

So then I decided to use my eyes, and take in my new lab partner. He sure looked like an Iero, same amber eyes, small but still muscular. He chewed his lip whenever he found something difficult, and a small smile flicked across his pale lips whenever he got it. His hair was cut shortish, so it didn’t hand too long. Hell, it only just covered his forehead, and certainly didn’t fall past his face.

“Right, time’s up!” The teacher shouted, her voice seemingly annoyed at the sudden lack of silence as voices filled the room. I didn’t like, not being able to pinpoint voices to people and read their emotions. It made me feel like I couldn’t make up for the fact I had no voice.
No sound to call my own that I made myself without anyone else.

“Shut up, the lot of you!” The teacher roared, watching a room full of teenagers with expression ranging from amusement to anger. She repeated herself quieter, and then brought the answers up on the smartboard.

After a minute or so, the bell went and the familiar words “Class Dismissed” rang through the room, and I smiled at the slight relief in the teacher’s voice. I shoved my notebook into my bag and walked out of the room.

Everybody seemed to blend into crowds of teenagers; some layered and caked in makeup, hanging out near the back of the school, with cigs hanging loosely from their manicured hands. To be honest, I wasn’t surprised they were there, and I wasn’t surprised when a crowd insulted another and it escalated into a bitch fight.

Insults were hurled, nails were snapped, and hair was lost. Big deal.

I sat on the wall, not quite sure where I should have been going. But I should of knew better than to sit near the back of the fucking school. There’s a reason these kids are here, because in this place things happen and they never get told.

It’s almost a graveyard.

And it was that first day I realised at this place, I’d be lucky if I didn’t end up in a real one.

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