The boy who never learned to talk
My first attempt at fiction
He wasn’t good with people. He was more comfortable crouched behind a screen. If there weren’t computers his life would’ve been very different. A sharp mind destined to physical labor to calm the mental faculties.
Trauma that seeped deeply into adulthood with a promiscuous mother and an abusive father. He did his best to protect his siblings. Only to be misunderstood and berated at every moment he stood up for himself.
Communication was his weakness. Constantly losing ‘friends’. He developed a devotion to money although he didn’t have much of it. Work was his suffering. He had learned from a young age - work hard or you’ll be on the streets. Money is the only god.
He grew silent day by day first to protect others then to protect himself. Conversations became sentences, sentences became words and finally nothing at all. He couldn’t talk if he wanted to. He visited doctors and psychologists and psychiatrists but none of them gave any remedies. Trauma they said. But this was rare, it happened in childhood not to a grown adult.
As puzzling as it was - as difficult as everyday life became. It seemed like his wish came true. People would finally leave him alone. They would finally stop twisting his words. He could not be misunderstood anymore because they could not understand him in the first place.