American Sign Language (ASL) is presented in quotes throughout the story, as a reader would expect of dialog in a book. Because ASL’s grammatical structure varies from that of English, I took creative liberties and translated the signed words into standard English grammar.
On a personal note…
I need to give a heartfelt thank-you to Hope. She was the first to read Ben & Gabriel’s story. I'm truly grateful for her feedback and comments to ensure I wrote Ben as authentically as possible.
I don't pretend to know what it's like to be a person who is deaf or hard of hearing. For months, I researched, gathered information, visited forums, and read personal experiences. After nearly a year, I found one common thread: everyone's journey is unique.
This is Ben's story.
You don't need to hear the sound of someone's voice to listen to their message.
Oftentimes, there is more said with unspoken words.
Mid-January
Ben ran into the bedroom and swung the door shut. He leaned back against the door, gasping each breath while clutching the cell phone to his chest. Seconds. It was all he had before that bastard came barging in to take what he wanted.
Pushing off the door, he leapt over his still packed duffle bag sitting on the floor and wedged his body in the narrow space behind the bed. He grabbed the edge of the bed frame and pushed.
Damn bed wasn’t moving.
He gritted his teeth and pushed harder, finally shoving the bed on its rusty wheels across the carpeted floor. With the bed bumped up against the door, he had a moment of reprieve to take a deep breath.
His eyes burned as he stared at the door and a memory flashed in his mind.
Once his parole had been granted, Sam had asked him to make a simple decision: Halfway House or this place.
Another stupid decision made.
He glanced around the room—at the peeling paint, dirty carpet, and iron bars on the windows. This place wasn’t Halfway House. Both houses were in Miami-Dade County and about an hour apart, but there was a world of distance between them.
Climbing onto the mattress, he knee-walked toward the foot of the bed. Carefully, he inched closer and flattened his hand against the worn faux wood. One pounding thump against the door vibrated against his palm.
Then another and another, each harder than the one before.
He gasped when the mattress shook beneath his knees.
A punch from Jake would cause some damage—he had a pulsing black eye to prove that.
He pulled his hand away. Even though he couldn’t hear it, he imagined each strike came with an accompanying yell. Maybe even a curse. Or two. He crab-walked backward, away from the door now visibly moving with each strike.
He retreated to the wall, keeping his eyes trained on the single point of entry in front of him. First day at the new halfway house and he already had to deal with bullies.
If he were at HH, things would be so different. The house owners would never allow violence under their roof. Julian would have swooped in like some super ninja and caught Jake’s fist midair.
Ben leaned back against the wall and slid down until his ass hit the dirty carpeted floor. He tightened his grip on the cell phone in his hand. The punch to the face had been a small price to pay if he still had his phone.
Correction… His lifeline.
Now he realized why Sam had to gain special permission for him to have one. Every place had different rules and having a cell phone was a violation of this house’s rules. That detail hadn’t clicked until two other residents had practically salivated at the sight of his phone when he had pulled it out from his back pocket to view the incoming text message. Like a pack of wolves, another resident had joined in. In true alpha form, Jake had pushed the three of them aside and taken the lead, delivering a punch to the side of Ben’s face that had shoved him to the ground.
They had expected him to quiver, give in, huddle into a ball or surrender his phone. They hadn’t counted on him tightening the grip on his lifeline or his speedy escape.
He banged his head back against the wall.
Bump, bump, bump.
He was tired of life kicking him in the nuts.
Tired of second-guessing every damn thing he did.
Tired of how he kept making the wrong decisions.
Five years ago, he had trusted the wrong people. Friends had used him as a scapegoat and that had resulted in