Chapter Text
When she was a girl, Zoey was a complicated girl.Someone whom her parents could not understand constantly.
But she was not like any girl of six years of age.Who was a walking bullet whom her parents had to chase everywhere, or like a whirlwind that devastated everything in its path.
Zoey was not that kind of girl whom you ended up seeing with shattered knees at the very top of a tree. Nor that girl whom you caught at the game machines after spending all the money from the change for the food.
She was not that girl who talked and talked until driving you crazy and making you want to tear out your hair because they did not know how to control her, but at the same time, you loved her with all your heart.
Zoey was different. Zoey barely spoke with the children.It seemed that her only friends were her stuffed animals, and even they did not enjoy all the time the privilege that was hearing her voice.
Zoey preferred to stay quiet, in the corners. When she spoke, it was to tell stories regarding the turtles. When you looked at her, she seemed to be lost in her own world. A world in which nobody had permission to enter.
And like every child who was not equal to the rest… The taunts did not take long to appear.
"Look, there comes the turtle girl. Why don't we go take her lunch? After all... I have never seen a turtle die of hunger for an afternoon without eating."
What was it that Zoey had to do? She had no idea. She did not understand why those kids had to be so strange with her. She did not know the reason why those people spoke to her like that. Nor why the kids in her class seemed to do everything possible to not sit next to her. Much less why there were people who, upon walking by her side, started to laugh just by seeing her.
It was quite strange, but with time, Zoey got used to it. She thought that those things were normal. She thought that it was normal to have to give her breakfasts and that it was normal to give others the money that her parents gave her. That it was normal to have to do her notes twice in classes because hers almost always would have dirt or filth.
And when they saw that the taunts and the comments did not seem to affect her in the way in which they expected, those people thought that they had to change strategy. That they had to demonstrate, in reality, what they were made of.
What was it that Zoey could do? Tell someone? Zoey already did a lot when she was forced to participate in classes. Something that had increased more and more with the passing of the years. Now that she was twelve, it was becoming a torture.
Her parents would never understand her. Maybe they would not even believe her. After all, communicating with her parents already was difficult for her. It seemed that, simply, they were incapable of understanding her either and had yielded to the idea that their daughter was a complete enigma and that, as long as they gave her food and took care of her, they would already be doing a good job.
Besides, she knew that the turtles were strong. It was because of that that they had a big shell, where they could hide, and nothing could harm them. So she could do the same, right?Every time they hurt her, she could hide in her shell and not come out of there until she was completely safe.
That was her strategy to endure those kids for years. Every time she went to school, she hid in her shell to prevent them from being able to do her harm. To protect the most sensitive parts of her and to be able to survive one more day.
But everything changed on that day. That was the day when everything finally broke, after so many warnings.
That day, Zoey's world split in two.
It was an ordinary Tuesday, with the sun peeking out from between the clouds, as if it too was afraid to look at what was about to happen. Zoey was at recess, admiring her drawings of turtles and the keychains that her mother had given her, with a turtle that had a hand-painted smile.
She should have known that something would happen from the moment in which, accidentally, she had ended up taking her favorite stuffed turtle to school. It was supposed to not be anywhere else beyond her room. But, for some reason, it had ended up in her backpack.
However, everything was like her little refuge, inside her universe. The only thing that made her feel that she was not completely alone.
But that day, all of that ceased to exist.
As always, Zoey had let everyone leave the classroom before she herself did.Maybe, if she knew how to communicate better, it would be effortless to ask the teacher to let her stay in the classroom during recess. But that was not the case.
She hid over her shoulders when she realized that there were already people waiting for her at the entrance, laughing. There were not many, but there were enough to make her feel small. So that she would not want to look at them and thus forget their faces.
"Look who is here," said one, with a crooked smile. "Our favorite turtle."
Zoey lowered her gaze. She knew what was coming. If she did not look at them, if she did not respond, maybe they would get bored and leave.
However, on that day, they decided that leaving was not enough.
Another boy, taller, approached her and, without asking permission, took her backpack. Zoey felt her stomach shrink upon feeling less weight.
"Give it to me, please." She begged, but her voice barely came out a little higher than a whisper.
"What did you say?" he asked, pretending not to have heard her, while holding it with one hand.
"Please... give it to me."
That last phrase was what ended up unleashing the group's laughter. A dry, cruel laugh that echoed throughout the school.
"Oh, sure, we will give it back to her," said another, opening the backpack roughly. They started to take out her things one by one. The pencil case, the notebooks, the folded papers, everything... Even her stuffed animal. "With some changes, of course."
"Wait, what is this?" asked someone whom Zoey could not identify, someone with pink hair, taking the stuffed animal.
Zoey could tolerate many things, but not that. That stuffed animal was what she wanted most, what she loved most! They could not take it.
"Not that, please." She begged, starting to play with a lock of her hair.
One of the girls started to mock, giving her a slap so she would let it go.
However, as if it were an almost involuntary movement, Zoey again took her hair, causing more laughter.
"You look like a little girl. Act normal!" shouted one, before making Zoey pull harder. "If you want to play so much... Why don't you keep it instead?"
Zoey did not know who the person who had the scissors was, nor did she know why they had them at hand. What she did know was that they had used them to cut that lock from her.
"Now you stop being so stressed. Problem solved."
The air started to disappear from her lungs, but she still tried to maintain calm.
Yes, that was too much... But it would only be that; they would leave already; they always did. Just that, this time, they did not leave. On the contrary, they continued touching her turtle things.
A pen that almost had no ink left but that Zoey guarded like gold.
"Oh, look at her. What a cutie! What do you do with this, huh? Do you talk to it?"
He raised it to the height of his eyes, making a squeaky voice.
"'Hello, I am Zoey's turtle, and I am going to save her world, because in real life, I am barely capable of articulating two words without stuttering'"
The laughs erupted again. One of the girls took the notebook, flipping through it.
"God, you draw turtles too? How sick you are! It seems she lives for them."
Zoey felt her heart was coming out of her throat. She advanced one step, trembling.
"Please... that is mine."
"Then come for it." The boy smiled with malice, and before Zoey could react, he ran as fast as he could.
Several followed at his back, waiting for Zoey to follow them.
But she, much to her regret, did not do it. Her head was pounding, her ears were ringing and her heart was completely accelerated.
Unconsciously, she started to scratch her arms and began to walk in circles in the same place. Upon seeing that she was not following them, two boys frowned and returned, to start pulling her, straight towards the bathrooms.
"Wait, don't do it." She shrieked, trying to resist, but she could not.
The edges of her vision started to become shiny as her eyes filled with tears.
She thought about nothing, only about recovering her things. The notebook, her stuffed animal, the turtles. Her entire world.
The group surrounded her. Some were recording with their phones. Others just watched, enjoying the show.
And then, without her being able to stop it, he opened the toilet. The dirty water swirled inside, reflecting the white light of the bathroom.
"No..." whispered Zoey.
"You know that turtles love to swim, right? Why don't we test if this one knows how to do it?" Laughed one of the boys before taking the stuffed turtle and tearing it in two.
Zoey felt as if her heart broke in that moment. Reality hit her with so much force that Zoey felt as if her soul were ripped from her body.
"Wait, no..."
"Yes." And he let it fall.
The sound of the plop was like a gunshot.
Zoey lunged towards it, trying to reach it, but the boy pushed her with force. She fell to the floor, and in the same instant, the boy took the other two figures and threw them too, one after the other. Then, with all her drawings, tearing them into pieces. With everything she wanted, it ended up inside that toilet.
"Wow... It seems these turtles don't know how to swim," one of them mocked, before smiling. "Or maybe they were desperate to get away from you."
The water swallowed everything. Her stuffed animal, her notebook, her memories. Everything had disappeared.
The group laughed. One said something, but Zoey did not hear it. Everything sounded muffled and distant, as if she were under the water. She felt her chest heavy, her eyes cloudy. She wanted to scream, but she could not. Her throat did not obey.
The sound of the laughs kept bouncing off the walls of the bathroom. They were laughs that did not sound human, at least not to Zoey. They had a hollow, distorted tone, as if they came from the bottom of the toilet itself. Her hands trembled. The dirty water splashed near her knees, and the smell of chlorine and rusted metal scraped her throat.
She could not breathe. She could not think. She only felt the void where before her stuffed animal had been, her entire world.
"What's wrong, little turtle?" said one of the boys, approaching. His shadow covered hers. "Don't worry. You said turtles were strong, right?"
Zoey lifted her gaze; her eyes were red, and her tears still could not manage to find the necessary path to exit her eyes. She did not understand what they wanted from her. She did not understand why they could not leave.
She could not finish understanding why they were doing that to her. Why did they have to be so... Mean.
"Leave me..." she whispered. But nobody heard her.
The boy let out a laugh and took her by the arm with a force that made her lose her balance.
"Not so fast. It is known that turtles are marine creatures, right?" The look in his eyes reflected pure malice. "So, let's find out how long they can breathe underwater."
The others laughed. One of them took out his phone, aiming the camera towards her.
"This is really going to be fun."
Zoey tried to break free, but her body did not respond to her. She felt her hands cold, her muscles tense. Her breathing became irregular, choppy, as if each inhalation hurt.
"No, no, no..." she repeated, again and again, but it was so low... That nobody could arrive to defend her.
The boy grabbed her nape. Zoey let out a dry shriek.
"Calm down. We just want to see if you are a real turtle."
And then, without further ado, he pushed her. The water hit her in the face with a dull noise. A bitter and chemical taste invaded her mouth.
She tried to scream, but the water entered her lungs. She writhed, kicking, her hands looking to grab onto something.
The toilet was cold, freezing, and the echo of the laughs mixed with the sound of her choked breathing. Everything was confusing. Lights, shadows, voices. She did not know what it was that was happening and what it was that she had to do.
She needed oxygen, but she could not get it.
"Come on! Hold on longer, turtle!" shouted one, between laughs.
She kicked, she moved, but her body had no strength. Her hands clawed the air, the floor, and the legs of her aggressors without being able to stop them.
The water rose and fell, hitting against the porcelain. And then... everything became blurry.
A buzzing filled her head. A sharp beep, before everything turned white. It was then, finally, that they let her go.
Zoey fell backwards, gasping and coughing. The water dripped from her hair; her eyes burned. She coughed until almost vomiting. But, despite letting her go, they did not leave.
"Look at her. It seems she doesn't even know how to do that well," someone mocked. "She resisted less than what anyone would have expected from a turtle."
One gave her a kick in the side. Another, in the arm. And another, in the back. Each blow was a thunder inside her head.
The air came out of her in spurts. The floor mixed with the ceiling, with the echo of the laughs, with the sticky sensation of the wet floor.
"You know?" said one, crouching to her level, with a crooked smile. "Maybe if you stop being so weird, people would leave you alone."
Zoey tried to look away, but he grabbed her chin.
"Don't look at the floor when I talk to you, did you hear me?"
She nodded, trembling. The boy let out a laugh.
"That's it. I like it like that. Obedient."
He released her face with a dry blow. The noise of the impact resonated between the walls of the bathroom. Zoey stopped moving, not because she did not want to, but because she could not do it anymore; she no longer had any more strength.
Her body simply disconnected. Her mind too. The sound of the water, the laughs, the phones recording... everything faded little by little until becoming a distant murmur.
Only her choppy, irregular breathing remained, like that of someone who no longer knew if they wanted to keep breathing.
The kids, upon not receiving more reaction, started to get bored. One of them snorted.
"Enough, let's go. If someone comes in, they're going to get us in trouble." Said one, but Zoey no longer knew who it was. "Although these bathrooms are abandoned, we better not run risks."
"And the video?"
"Save it. We'll upload it later."
And like that, they left. The laughs moved away down the hallway until fading completely.
Zoey was left alone. Her body was shrunken on the floor, her uniform soaked, her hair stuck to her face. Her hands kept trembling, her fingers stiff, and her eyes open, but without seeing.
She could not move. She could not speak. The sound of the water dripping from the sink became a meaningless clock, measuring seconds that she did not understand.
The air in the bathroom was heavy humid. She started to breathe faster, without control. Her chest hurt, and her hands were becoming numb. She tried to grab her head, but she could not; she only trembled. The world spun, the floor seemed to move away and approach at the same time, the colors mixed, and the sounds merged.
And all that she could hear was her own breathing, more and more frantic. Her body tensed suddenly, her fingers bent, and a moan escaped from her throat. Time stopped having meaning.
At some point, the afternoon became night. The bathroom was left empty, except for the echo of her breathing. When the teachers found her, she almost did not respond anymore.
She was in the same corner, trembling, with a lost gaze, as if she still saw the water spinning in the toilet.
They tried to talk to her. She did not respond. They tried to touch her, but she screamed; her body reacted as if they had hit her again. It was then that her life changed forever.
Zoey was 12 years old when she heard the word autism for the first time.
Her parents had not been in much agreement that she should attend a psychological session. But the school had insisted, after the event. They had no other choice.
Especially because if before it was difficult to speak with Zoey, now it was much worse.
She did not even let Jinu, her brother, touch her. She did not speak with anyone; she did not see anyone.
She was like a living dead.
Her parents seemed to be devastated after the news.They had said that it was not because of the diagnosis but because they did not realize the situation earlier. They had asked her for forgiveness for not having understood her before, but Zoey was barely capable of knowing how much of it was true.
Only her brother, Jinu, had been the only one who seemed to support her.He was not all the time trying to make her talk or touching her until putting her nerves on edge. Jinu had been responsible for convincing their parents to attend with that doctor.
Although, in reality, she had no desire to hurt him, she had ended up doing it on one occasion, accidentally.
After hitting her brother with one of her porcelain cups, her parents finally accepted the idea that she had to go to therapy.
"It is not an illness," the doctor had said in that session. "It is only a different way of seeing the world. It is pointless to think about the things that were not done before, but rather about what will be done now."
Her parents were sitting in front of her. Zoey only observed them from her chair, with her legs swinging without touching the floor and the new stuffed animal that Jinu had given her, spending all the savings that a fifteen-year-old boy could have.
The psychologist spoke, and Zoey watched how her lips moved, but the words mixed with the buzzing that filled her head since that day. It was a thick sound, as if the whole world had submerged under the water.
All those words swam in front of her like translucent jellyfish, floating without a real meaning. She did not understand what they were referring to when they mentioned things like “post-traumatic stress” and “sensory crises.”
All that seemed banal to her.
Her parents, on the other hand, did seem to understand it. Or at least try. Her mother broke into tears when the doctor reminded her that it was not her fault. And her father only limited himself to nodding, although in his gesture there was more bewilderment than relief.
That afternoon, when they left the office, nobody spoke during the journey home. Not even Jinu, who used to fill the silence with songs or silly jokes. Zoey only rested her head against the car window, watching the reflection of the lights pass over the glass.
The only thing she could think about was that, at any moment, she would have to return to classes and deal with all those people again... That was what scared her the most and made her want to run out.
During the following weeks, the house changed.Normally, there was always noise everywhere. It bothered Zoey a little before, but she could keep it to herself. It was not unbearable.
Jinu was always playing music. They had bought him a guitar when he was a boy, and he had never let it go again. Afterward, more instruments had been added, like the piano or the bass. And when he started to take singing lessons, it was normal to hear his voice all the time.
Of course, he did not control the volume of his things much either. But it was not something that bothered them. After all, their parents were very similar. If they went to the kitchen, their mother always had a soap opera on her small television, which fought alongside the pots to discover who could be much louder.
And their father, in the garage, was constantly looking for something to do.Something to work on, something to fix or to invent. So it was not rare to hear the noises of the tools or the drill again and again.
After several appointments with that doctor, whom she now recognized as her “therapist,” the noise that normally flooded their house disappeared.Jinu started to put on headphones every time he played his instruments.His mother stopped watching the soap opera and putting the flame so high. His father made sure to stop the moment he heard his daughter approach.
They had bought her some noise-canceling headphones, which she could have all the time she wanted. It was nice, and she felt calmer, but she did not like to know that it was her fault, that now everyone was walking on eggshells around her. That was not the way in which Zoey would have wanted it.
The problem was that, although they wanted to help her, they did not know how to do it. Despite their attempts, Zoey still found her mother crying while she looked at brochures about behavioral therapy. While she heard her father fight with the school administration, threatening them with lawsuits if they did not learn to deal with her.
If they did not stop talking to her just because Zoey had reacted badly to a teacher approaching her. Yes, she preferred to avoid public bathrooms. If she was incapable of speaking in class. Yes, they had to have someone in charge of making sure the rest of the kids did not approach her.
Yes, they had to endure that Zoey seemed to take refuge more and more in her turtle decorations.Breathing and looking at the ceiling while she stared at her toys and items.
Some teachers had the nerve to say that that was not right. They said that she should go study far from there, intern her in a hospital, or have tutors at home. That it was not a conducive environment, and they were not paid for that. That she was going crazy and had looked for what she got because of her enormous fixation with turtles.But they did not understand anything.
It was months in speech therapy until Zoey was capable of stringing together more than three words again. Until she spoke again with the people she trusted. Even if she did not seem to react and did not say more than the essential, everyone saw it as progress.
Jinu was the only one who did not seem to get scared. He did sit next to her when she stayed quiet for hours. He did not pressure her to talk. Sometimes he just put on soft music for her or left her drawings of turtles taped on the door. He was the only one who understood that they could not deal with Zoey's desire to want to be like a turtle.
With the passing of the years, Zoey seemed to improve, at least a little. She could maintain conversations with Jinu and with her parents. She could tolerate her mother hugging her for a few seconds. And, sometimes, she even answered a couple of questions in class.
The kids had learned not to approach her, or at least not to mock, if they did not want an expulsion. And, anyway, there were no reasons to approach the girl who acted like a turtle and wore a hat to demonstrate how much she wanted to be like them.
Because yes, Zoey still lived in her own world. Her fixation with turtles intensified. She no longer only drew them; she talked about them, and she dreamed about them. Sometimes, she said that she wanted to be like them. That she was part of them. One more turtle.
Her room transformed into a sanctuary. There were walls decorated with drawings and paintings that simulated the sea, stuffed animals, figures, and a lamp that projected small luminous turtles on the ceiling.
She started to wear a brown hat with a round hood, decorated as if it were a shell.And every time someone asked her why she wore it, she responded very seriously that she was a turtle, and one day, she was going to go to the sea with the others.
Her mother stayed silent upon hearing that.Her father, sometimes, just nodded with a broken smile.
Jinu, on the other hand, laughed softly and told her to take him with her when she did it.
Despite everything, Zoey knew that nobody could understand her.The doctor noticed that, despite the years of therapy, Zoey did not seem to be capable of completely overcoming that trauma. Despite everything, it seemed that she still had an extremist reaction to stress.Any sudden physical contact made her retract.
Talking with people still was a martyrdom. It was as if she relived that day again and again. The doctor started to suspect that it was because of the school. So one day, she suggested making the change, taking advantage of the end of the school year.
Seeing the same faces, the same hallways, everything, did not allow her to move forward. Maybe it was the moment for a change.
So when Zoey entered high school, her parents decided that it was the moment for her to change to a school.
And what was better than the one her brother had gone to? Of course, he was no longer there, as he had entered university. But he knew the environment. He knew that they could take good care of Zoey.
Zoey's plan was to go unnoticed, just as she had always done.
That was the idea. If fewer people saw her, then there were fewer probabilities she had of bothering people.
There were more possibilities for them to leave her in peace.
Join the singing group! Who wants to lose the opportunity to be next to Ryu Rumi?
Zoey had to remember that she would have to charge her headphones soon, or she would have to endure all that noise.
The good thing is that it was not mandatory that she join any club.
Go unnoticed. She just had to go unnoticed for three years so that, then, she could...
PAF
Before she realized it, Zoey had collided with someone. And all her notebooks now lie on the floor.