She was a foster kid. That's what the doctors had said. She had run away from her abusive foster parents, who could've stabbed her, or someone along the way attacked her. But she definitely ran away because of them. She was deaf, and she didn't want to tell them anything else. The answers would apparently come with time. At least that's what the doctors said.
And she had nowhere to go. They obviously couldn't send her back to where she was. But they also didn't seem to have many records of her. She didn't have a fingerprint in the system, and she didn't want to give her name. No one in the area wanted a deaf crazy foster kid to take care of, so she would stay in a facility. Unless they would take her.
His mother sat in the germy old hospital waiting seats, pondering over the decision. Max had begged his mother to take her in. She was the only one like him. That he had met, anyways. But even besides that, she was cold, alone, hurt, and she seemed to have made a connection with him.
Max sighed, walking over to the deserted hallway next to the waiting room. The stillness was broken when a man walked out of a door and down the hall with an iv attached to his arm. His lab gown swayed beneath him.
If they really decided to adopt her, then they would get to spend time together. And technically, she would be Max's sister! But only if they actually adopted her.
Max looked down the hall, at the gloomy window of moonlight shining on the floor. He walked towards it, footsteps following the rhythm of his heart. His hand caressed the window sill, and he leaned against it, bending his elbows against the edge. The moon shone into his eyes, making them flash in the dark space.
His skin looked paler in the light, and it gave a sort of elegant fragility to him. He stared at his ghostly white hands and watched them shrink to fists. He felt a coldness creep into him as he turned his gaze towards the moon. He shuddered, feeling tears buildup behind his eyes.
His pale, elegant, beautiful hands. Disgusting hands. He wasn't beautiful at all. He was a freak. And he'd lost his purpose, his passion. He loved what he did, but he didn't-no,-couldn't do it anymore. People acted like he was weak, like he was a different person. Like if they laid the lightest touch of a finger on him, his soul would shatter.
He walked into the bathroom, trying to ignore the image in the mirrors that he loathed. He slammed a bathroom stall shut, and lay his head into his hands. His brown hair slipped past his fingers, and he dug his nails into his scalp.
Why him? Why did it have to happen to him? Couldn't it have been something, anything that would have let him keep his purpose? He hadn't even been to a single band meet since the incident.
He wiped the tears from his eyes, getting up from the toilet and walking himself back into the hallway. He had to stop despairing every little thing. He walked back to the moonlit windowsill and sighed, looking again at the cold moon.
He jumped as a finger connected lightly with his shoulder. He turned around to look up at his mother and the doctor who had been with the girl. His mother handed him a notepad.
"You have a sister." It said. Max's eyes lit up, and he couldn't control his happiness, jumping on his feet and laughing. His mother smiled at him. He looked at his mother and signed "can I see her? When can she come home? Does she know sign language? If they don't know her name, can me and her come up with one?"
His mother laughed and nodded, leading Max towards the waiting room again, and from there down another hallway to an elevator. They went up to the third floor and walked into the only lit room in the hallway.
The girl sat on the bed, looking out the window at passing traffic. Max flipped the light switch off and on, and she turned her head towards the door. Her eyes lit up when she saw Max. Max walked over to her and sat gently on her bed. He asked in sign language if she knew how to speak it, and she made the sign for yes.
Max took a deep breath and smiled. "We're adopting you." He signed excitedly, refraining from bouncing up and down on the bed. She smiled. "Really?" "Yes!" Max signed, hugging her. "What's your name? If you don't have one, me and you can come up with one." She got a look in her eyes. "I have a name, but I never want to be called it again. It's the name my abusive parents gave me. I would love to come up with one with you though." Her smile was replaced quickly with a grimace, and she put her hand to the place where her wound had been. "Still healing." She signed weakly.
Meanwhile, his mother and the doctor stood in the corner of the room, perplexed. The girl hadn't talked to anyone else but Max the whole time she'd been in the hospital. She must like him a lot.
The doctor quickly scribbled something onto a notepad, and handed it to Max. "She'll have to be here for a few more nights. She has to recover. The knife wound she got was deep. It didn't hit anything vital, but it hurt her a lot. You can bring her home in a few days." Max nodded, smiling back at the girl. She nodded as well.
"I guess I'll see you soon then, right?" Max nodded. "I guess so." He smiled at her, and walked out the door. "So well pick her up in a few days then?" Max signed to his mother, who escorted them both into the elevator. "Yes. She'll live in the spare room in our basement that we never use. After all, we have a bed down there." Max nodded, walking back out of the waiting room to the parking lot.
They drove home, Max in the happiest mood ever since he'd become deaf. He slept happily that night knowing that he was not alone. That it would be ok.
That he had a sister.