Silent Laughter (Louis Tomlinson) [BOOK 3]
She begins jotting things down on a sheet of paper as my eyes just continue staring at the small electrical clock that is resting upon her desk, the ticking sound signaling each passing second, raising my impatience. It's been about five minutes and the image of the possible brown cardboard box that might be resting on my front porch with my name printed on top of it right at this moment is making this reluctant appointment even more tedious.
"I'm almost done Ms. Queen. Just filling in your basic info."
I roll my eyes slightly at how she acknowledges me.
I glance down at my lap, my finger unlocking the enlarged iphone looking device.
"You can call me Winnie here too you know." The device speaks for me, making me feel slightly envious of it's vocal ability.
I push that aside. I did this to myself. This was my decision, so I don't understand why these feelings of jealousy towards this inanimate object fucking still arises within me.
Fuck it I guess.
She sighs before finally dropping her pen and holding her hands with one another in a sophisticated way, her eye glasses resting almost on the tip of her slope looking nose.
"This is my workplace Ms. Queen and no matter our relations, I must address you as I address all my patients. And that device is almost considered obsolete here. You know I can understand you perfectly." She says, a soft smile spreading on her thin nude lips.
I huff a little, staring down at the Ipad.
My fingers graze over the digital keyboard.
"You're one of my mum's best friends. You were with her when my parents adopted Gene. I think it's sort of ridiculous, the whole name thing I mean. My name is my name, please let me have at least that simple luxury. Winnie sounds so much simpler." It reads my mind for me again.
Her eyes narrow at me in some sort of concentration before she grabs her pen again and begins writing something down on that fucking paper.
"What deep behavioral issue did I portray now?" I type, leaning my body back against the uncomfortable chair, my arms now crossed over my chest and my Ipad remaining still on my lap, beginning to feel slightly warmer. I think I've used it too much, but I really don't want to 'sign' right now.
She finally glances up at me, her dark brown eyes meeting mine and I feel myself snort a little at the thought of Coop most likely wanting to cover her iris' with some sort of colored plastic so they don't seem so ordinary.
Oh Coop. If only you knew how valuable normalcy is.
"It wasn't a behavioral issue Ms. Queen. It was ju-"
She quickly scrunches up her lips together, trying to conceal the words that were about to reveal themselves.
Her fingertips rise to her face, pushing up her specs so they don't fall off.
"Why don't you enjoy communicating in sign language with me? I know that you are able to since in fact your father made sure you had one of the best teachers in the world to teach you. So...why? What do you feel?"
And there it is. She is no longer human, but now a robot, going to ask all the questions she was programmed to ask, her voice now resembling the one of the device beneath my chin.
I usually respond with an "I'm fine." so she can move on to the next question and get everything over with so I can just leave, but since for some reason Coop as well as everyone else think I'm still this depressed, low esteemed teenager or some shit, I will try to rethink my answer this time and give more detail.
I feel my own eyebrows scrunch up together as a form of my own concentration and I see how my thumb just begins to form small circles on the screen as if it were a real person.
I begin typing and turn my attention back on her as it begins to speak my mind.
"I guess I just like tricking myself into thinking that it's my own voice, it makes me feel more normal than I am."
She just nods before writing more things down.
"Ms. Queen, I have begun to notice, looking back into your file, that you always have to announce how you're 'normal', an 'average' person. Why do you have this desire to be average, mediocre?"
I stare at her in disbelief, losing some respect for the woman in front of me. I don't give a damn if she's given me birthday cards and has even celebrated Christmas with my family, she's fucking blind and ignorant.
I feel my hands grip the arm rests tighter and immediately take a deep breath to refrain myself from over exaggerating.
My hold loosens.
I place my right hand in the air in front of me and I point to myself with my index finger, I give a quick thumbs up, I place my fingers straight with my pinky being the only one down, I ball my left hand into a fist and with my right hand (only with my index and middle finger) I form a circle in the air before tapping the roof of my left hand.
She wanted me to sign, fine. If it will fucking make her shut up.
"Really? So you think that someone who doesn't talk is normal then?" She answers and my respect for her continues dropping.
'I am normal.' I mouth, repeating what I signed.
She just nods before writing again. God, I want to fucking throw that pen at a fucking wall.
"So tell me Ms. Queen. You stopped talking when you were six. Am I correct?"
I narrow my eyes at her and I mouth a sarcastic 'no' before rolling my eyes.
She just said how she went through my file. I really hope that was a rhetorical question, because if not...damn. Coop could be a better therapist than her.
She ignores my annoyed glare and just sighs before reading over a few of her 'notes'.
"Would you mind reminding me of why that was? Why you made such a big decision like that?"
I point to myself, I fling my hand down with all my fingers except my thumb pointing up before bringing up to my chest, my index finger now being the only finger up and I point to my forehead.
She clears her throat, obviously now growing impatient with my answers. Hey, she wanted me to answer with something other than my usual answers so this is what she gets.
She's a fucking therapist. Didn't she have to learn how to hold a state of tolerance or some shit at therapist school or whatever.
"And why would you mind Ms. Queen?"
I swear if she calls me that one more time...
'Because you have my damn file lady; are you stupid' I want to answer her, but since I'm polite and well mannered, I answer differently. Besides, I think I might have to see her this next weekend for some party, so I really don't want my mum yelling at me for my attitude or whatever.
I'm twenty for heavens sake. I can do what I want.
'You already know why.' I mouth.
She just nods before yet again, writing on that damn paper.
"But you began talking again at the age of eight, but then going back to your old ways at nine."
'And?' my lips form for me, no sound coming out again.
"Why is that? Your aunt was in jail for a few years already at that time so that can't be it. Did anything else happen?"
Sometimes I think that there were other therapists qualified to 'treat' me, but this lady wanted my case so bad so that she can unravel me or something. I'm pretty much an open book, so I don't know why everyone considers me to be this complex, mysterious chic. I won't hide anything. I never lie. I'm normal. Normal people don't lie, so I'm still confused by my label.
I nod, my face emotionless.
"Would you feel uncomfortable discussing it?"
The thoughts and memories of tubes and faint beeping from a heart monitor frame themselves in my mind momentarily and I quickly shake my head.
Everything is fine. There is no need to think back to that.
I just nod again.
Izzy and Coop are the only ones that know of the reason and I prefer to keep it that way.
"Okay. I won't push you. But if you would ever like to talk about it, I will always be here."
'Yeah.' I mouth.
"So how was it?" I hear Coop ask as he turns right, screaming 'Arse!' angrily at some dick who tried cutting him off before huffing and turning his attention back on me.
I laugh slightly before shrugging, the American Horror Story soundtrack still playing in my ears. God, that show is literally a piece of art.
I turn the volume down, my body still leaning against the car door, my mood becoming more serious again.
I open up the app again on my Ipad and I begin typing lazily.
"She had flowers." It says.
Coop just laughs and I show him my middle finger (my favorite sign may I add) before laughing a little myself.
"Hey. I just don't understand what's with you and fucking flowers." He remarks, causing me to sit myself up and turn to face him.
I begin typing again.
I don't mind signing with Coop, but since he's driving and I don't want to die in a car accident, I refrain myself.
"They're just egotistical ass holes. Weeds are just as beautiful, yet they don't get the same recognition." It says.
"Recognition? God, weeds are fucking weeds like they're just shit." He responds and I grab my Ipad, hitting his shoulder with it.
"Ow! What the fuck Winn!"
I give him a satisfied smile before typing again.
After a few minutes along with foul language leaving Coop's lips and directing themselves to old ladies who are not stable enough to drive, he finally looks at me.
"Damn, Winn. Are you writing a fucking essay?!"
I place my left hand over his mouth, silencing him before finally pressing enter.
"Weeds can be beautiful you know. They can have colored petals and a nice scent, but since society doesn't accept them, sees them as 'outcasts' trying to be flowers, people don't even glance at them or take their time to really enjoy them. They just kill them and that pisses me off. Flowers are just stuck up bitches that think they're all high in status because they're placed in weddings and are bought daily. But you know what, fuck them. When you and I were little, we used to play in the fucking weeds all the time and even picked them, giving them to your mum. Remember that? She thought they were flowers and even placed them in water! And to me, that simple joy is more beautiful than any stupid ass arrogant rose or some shitty sun flower."
I take a deep breath, pretending as if that speech came out of my lips instead of that technology.
Coop quickly takes my hand off from his mouth and takes deep breaths, my hand now filled with some of his saliva.
I wipe it on the sleeve of his shirt and he narrows his eyes slightly before stopping at a red light and turning to me.
"First, don't ever do that again cause I couldn't fucking breathe. I could've hyperventilated or something or-"
I snort at his exaggerated behavior as he flips me off before taking another deep breath.
"And second, that was a nice explanation and all, but you kinda forgot that not all weeds look like that. They're mostly just huge ugly ass leaves and they kill pretty much any vegetation surrounding them."
I open my mouth, but quickly close it.
"Excuses. Excuses." I type.
Coop just shakes his head repeatedly before chuckling.
"And that app says 'fucking' and 'pisses' really weird." He adds and I raise an eyebrow in curiosity before typing.
"Pisses. Pisses. Pisses. Pisses. Fucking. Fucking. Fucking. Fucking." It reads, and me and Coop just burst into uncontrollable laughter.
"Oh my god that's so fucking good, I can't breathe." He states in between laughter and I quickly nudge him, pointing to the road, motioning him to pay attention before he just nods his head and focuses again.
"Fucking pisses." I type, looking straight ahead and trying to keep a straight face, immediately failing when tears begin leaving the twenty five year old's eyes as he repeatedly hits the side of his steering wheel with his right hand.
"Do you want me to get down?" He questions, turning his head to the left to look at me.
I shake my head.
"Nah." I mouth.
He looks suddenly to the right, staring at the big mansion and obviously noticing the dark auburn porsche that's in the driveway.
"Are you sure? Fucking Loki is here."
I laugh a little at his nickname for my sister.
Since Gene is adopted, is younger, always yearns for my parent's affection constantly, and treats me like shit, Coop decided to call her Loki. I mean she has dark brown hair too and is kinda pale so I guess I sorta see the resemblance.
Apparently I'm Thor in this case I guess.
Which I still don't understand since Thor is like a fucking God with a huge ass hammer and I'm just some chick with her collection of high quality cameras and Netflix membership (which is better than any big steel hammer in my opinion).
"Find out how many frost giants are with her and text me." He comments and I shake my head, laughing.
He laughs a little too before his eyes meet mine again.
"Want me to bring over your longboard tomorrow or are you going to come over again?" He suddenly questions and I mentally curse myself.
Fuck. I can't believe I left it.
'I'll let you know.' I sign and he just nods before we both wave goodbye and I step out of the car.
My house is big, gargantuan actually and I know my parents are wealthy individuals, but I just wish they wouldn't throw it in everyone's faces. They are truly nice people, and just owning a place like this, so unnecessary of a place, makes them seem like self absorbed douche bags.
But it's home. So watcha gonna do.
I pull out my key from the pocket of my jeans and my eyes roam the area before sighing and walking to the doorstep, unlocking the door to Narnia. It truly is Narnia, since our home is located so fucking far and pretty much is so large that it looks as if it is its own kingdom or something.
Maybe not that big, but still.
"Winn is that you?" I hear my pop say from inside.
I lock the door in the inside, taking off my shoes and walking over the nicely white marbled flooring. I'm guessing Sylvia just finished waxing it since I can practically see my own reflection.
"Hey my little buttercup." He says as I now see him approach me, his gelled blonde hair slightly messy, a rolled up newspaper in his hand and his white lab coat still on from work.
He kisses the top of my head and I scrunch up my nose a little before laughing slightly.
"How's my little AB doing?"
I raise an eyebrow at my new nickname and he just pulls my head to his chest.
"Got your test results today. Your blood type is still AB." He states, releasing me.
'Um I'm glad?.' I mouth.
"You should be. If any of your blood vessels altered or mutated in any way then you would have to get seriously hospitalized and you would have to go through blood matching for specific and safe blood transfusion."
My father is kind of a scientist, world renown actually and well he pretty much is a DNA analyst and one some award for discovering a new method in which to genetically modify a gene strand in DNA to alter a person's probability of getting diabetes. It's still in trial but I guess it will most likely get confirmed since again...he got a fucking award. I don't even know.
But that is pretty much why Gene's name is well Gene and why I always get strange nicknames like my little GC, AT, AU, or some other combination of fucking random ass letters. Again... I don't know. He told me one day how they are different strands and how we're each made of them and blah blah.
I don't really give a damn, but I act interested any way for him.
'Well then.' I mouth again and he laughs at my cluelessness.
"Your sister's up in her room with Ruby and Renee. Maybe you shou-"
I shake my head, forcing a smile.
'I'm good.' My lips form and he shrugs.
First, I don't understand why Gene is friends with two chicks whose name start with the letter R and second, her friends hate my fucking guts as much as she does. Ah, I take that over them pitying me and trying to socialize with me. Even if I did form some kind of friendship with them, it would only last a few months maybe until I let them go. Like always.
My dad shrugs.
"Hey, your mother can't say I don't try."
He kisses my head again.
"Oh by the way a package came for you and-"
I feel my eyes widen and I quickly grasp his wrist and I drag him to the kitchen where he usually places the mail since he likes eating when he's reading. It's like a small rhyme he made up.
'Reading's always better when you're eating.'
And he is right about that.
He laughs as we approach the kitchen, Sylvia chopping up some vegetables in her casual and comfy clothes.
My parents have a maid. Yes. I know. I find it kind of wrong too since it's like having a slave, but they let her eat anything she wants and she doesn't have to wear a ridiculous outfit like in the movies, so I don't think it's that bad.
Sylvia and I smile at each other briefly before she goes back to the vegetables and I go back to the beautiful, oh so perfect box that's resting on the table.
I place my Ipad down on the table before my father hands me scissors and I quickly slide it over the tape, tearing it apart.
I've been waiting for this for weeks.
"What did you get?" My dad asks.
I smile widely as I go through the bubble wrap.
I'm saving that for later.
I pull out the beautiful polaroid camera in my hands, and I place my lips on the top before showing my dad.
He nods, his arms crossed with the newspaper dangling from his right hand.
"Had one of those when I was a kid."
I just nod back, not having any words. Well literally speaking, but also emotionally.
"But don't you have like three of those professional Cannon cameras already? You even have the different lenses and everything." He adds as he now looks at me with a bit of curiosity.
I go to my Ipad and I open it up, opening the app and typing. No one in my family knows sign language so I actually have to use this here.
"It takes too long having to upload the pictures to the computer and then having to print them all out. It's much easier to get them instantly printed." It reads for me and he nods in understanding.
My dad and mum know about my peculiar hobby. They don't understand it, but they still don't question it either. It's like a teamwork between me and them.
"Don't use all your film so quickly though." He states and I smile widely.
Rain, how I love you.
I rummage through the box again, pulling out ten smaller boxes filled with extra film.
He smiles and nods his head.
"Okay well then nevermind what I just said." He jokes and I laugh too.
"Well your mother is taking a shower right now, so go say hi to your sister and dinner will soon be done."
I kiss his cheek in response before placing everything back in the box, even my ipad since I won't have enough space in my arms to carry it.
I stroll myself upstairs, feeling slightly giddy before walking down the hall to Gene's door.
"Don't kid with me G. This is not something to kid about. You know my feelings for these people." I hear one of my sister's frost giants say and I quickly stop myself beside the door, laughing a little at the thought of Cooper and his silly names.
"I'm not kidding! He's actually getting therapy at that place where my sister goes."
Oh. So they're talking about that asshole. Don't really see what the big deal is. I mean I like One Direction. They have some good tunes, but I wouldn't really freak out about meeting them. Well maybe Liam. He seems cool.
"But he who? Harry? I heard he's all depressed and shit." The other frost giant speaks.
"No. If only. It's that Louis kid." My sister answers, receiving a groan from both of them.
"Thank God that dick bag is there. He needs to get fucking therapy. He has issues."
"I know right! I don't think I've ever seen a famous person hate their fans as much as him like he refuses to even do meet and greets anymore. All he does is basically sing and go home." Gene states and I raise an eyebrow.
Is that true? Wow. Didn't think he was that much of a wad.
"And the thing is that since he goes there now, my family always has this party once a year where everyone, even the patients, are invited to celebrate the center's anniversary." She adds.
I forgot that the patients are invited.
My mum along with other leading 'young people' psychiatrists created the center, so since my mum finds any excuse to throw a party, she has this huge one each year at our home. The patients are always invited as well since according to my mum, 'it makes them feel more welcomed and comforted with their therapists and makes them realize how they are not alone' or some shit.
I think it's fucking weird. Last year some guy with an obsessive masturbating disorder tried talking to me and left to the bathroom about eight times. And I know damn well it wasn't because the shrimp was bad.
I dread that day each year and I've trying to convince Coop to come with me so I won't be alone, but he's heard all of my complaints about it and refuses. Doesn't want to go through hell with me.
Whatever. I doubt this Louis kid is going to go anyway. He probably doesn't even know about it.
I shrug to myself before deciding to just walk passed her door. She doesn't even care if I say hello to her or not so fuck it.
After I hear a few more muffled words followed by a few annoying giggle, her words become louder and more clear, stopping me in my tracks.
"And the thing that sucks is that my mum invited him."
"And?" Her friend asks.
Well that's going to be interesting.