Disclaimer- Me no own, so you no sue.

Alright guys, story number two. It is darker than Coffee Break, so be prepared. Also, this is just the intro. Matt and Emily won’t appear until the next chapter.

Enjoy.

Silent as the Grave: Chapter one.

Many considered fourteen year old Benjamin Harlow to be a true master mind.

Not for his grades, however. For his artwork.

He never could explain it. Ben simply loved the way he was able to glide his hand across a piece of paper and trace line after line, curve after curve. He loved the way he could command a pencil to draw anything he wished. To Ben, sketching was one of the only things he had control on in his life.

However, though his artwork could be amazement to others, to Ben, it was a way of expressing himself. It was pretty much the only way of expressing himself.

Since Ben was ten months old, he has simply been unable to speak. His parents, mainly his mother, placed him in classes, took him to doctors, but they all gave the same answer; Ben would never speak.

So, Ben was sent to a special school just for the mute. He learned English sign language, as well as other things every kid with ‘His special needs’, as his mother always put it, learned. Ben would have hated school with a passion had it not been for his first grade teacher, Ms. Pearly. Ben had learned how to write in kindergarten, but Ms. Pearly, his first grade teacher, made him fall in love with art in the first place. She was his inspiration, and it was because of her Ben learned how to put his emotion into what he drew, and thus improved his drawing capability. Ben didn’t mind sign language, he just preferred to draw out everything he expressed or thought of. Drawing was his way of talking.

Ben just used pictures and paper instead of sound and words.

The voice in his head said that she wouldn’t come.

Ben checked his watch for the fifth time. 9:30, it read. He made up his mind that she wasn’t coming.

Ben shook his head as he headed down the vacant street. Tuesday and Wednesdays were the nights he had art classes. They were also the nights his mother played bingo and went bowling with that little group of friends of hers, and most of the nights Ben had to walk home, even though his mother promised each night she would pick him up. Ben didn’t mind walking. He lived just ten minutes away.

Ben didn’t mind walking home; in fact, he preferred to walk rather than to listen to his mother rant on about some pointless topic she and her friends had discussed earlier that evening. Plus, Ben liked to watch the owners of the restaurants yell at their waiting staff over some tedious matter. He found it amusing.

Ben was just eight minutes away from home when he heard it. Screaming.

Any other teenager would probably have run for it. Not Ben. He was the sort of person to run towards the danger and investigate rather than to run away from the danger and wonder what was happening.

So Ben took a corner at the closest street where the screaming got louder. The closer he got, the louder the screaming, and the closer the danger.

He stopped in his tracks when he came across a sight that would be forever embedded into his mind. A man was holding a woman at gun point and literally beating the life out of her. Ben was surprised the woman was still holding up.

“Wha… what…did…? I …do?” Ben was shocked to hear her voice so quiet. More tears spewed from her eyes, one of which was swollen shut. Her attacker wasn’t pleased to see she could still talk. “Shut up, bitch! Shut up!” the man hollered. “You wanna live? Just do as I say.”

The woman’s sobbing ceased, but tears still leaked from her eyes. Ben studied the woman. She must be in her late twenties, possibly early thirties. Even so, she was rather pretty for her age, and could easily be mistaken for a teenager. Her body build was tiny, so her chances of fighting off the mugger were slim.

“Take off your shirt. DO IT!” The attacker grabbed her by the hair and forced her head up, and Ben saw that her eyes, despite the injuries, were rather beautiful. They were green, with bits of light, golden brown woven throughout irises. Those eyes bore into Ben’s blue ones, and he shivered, despite the warm temperature.

Do something! ANYHTING! The voice in Ben’s head screamed at him. Go Get help!

But Ben wasn’t listening to anything his subconscious was saying. He was too ridden with shock. He watched in silence as the man ripped off his victim’s shirt and throw it to the side, and how she flailed her arms and clawed at him with her finger nails. The man swore at the top of his lungs as he sucked on his now bleeding hand, and bent over to pick up the gun he dropped.

The young woman saw this as an opportunity to make a break for it. Don’t do it! Ben wanted to scream to her, but he saw the attacker pull up the gun and shoot two rounds into the woman’s back. She fell on her knees, then face forward into a pool of blood.

Ben wasn’t aware of the police sirens, nor did he see the man run down the ally way. He didn’t see one of the officers approach him, nor did he hear anything the officer was telling him.

The only thing Ben was aware of was the terror in that woman’s eyes. She knew he was there, she saw him hiding in the shadows. And he didn’t do anything to help her at all; he just stood back and watched it all unfold.

Anyone else would have screamed bloody murder when that gun went off, but it isn’t possible for a mute to scream.

Yes! Finally done! I can’t believe it took me a week to get this up.

The second chapter will take longer to load for two reasons:

My brother is staying home for thirty days while he recovers from his accident (relax guys, he’s fine).

I am still trying to figure out how to add on a second chapter. Stupid!#$& computer!

Well that being said, tell me what you think! I take CONSTRUCTIVE Criticism and flames help keep the house warm.

ACM