Page 67 of The Sound of Him

I’m empty. Cold. Not real.

Not real, not real, not real at all.

“Matt?”

Maybe I can leave the name line blank?Or I could just write Matt and stop being so dramatic about the whole name thing.Out of everything that’s happened, is it really that big of a deal? Is it worth getting upset over again and again instead of just embracing the name instead?

Matt is close enough, anyway.

But… I’m starting to get really sick ofclose enoughand mamá never called me Matt. I don’t have a memory of her voice making the sounds of that name. It feels so meaningless without that. It’s just another label my abusers slapped on me, clinging, heavy, itchy on my skin. Slave, whore, pet, slut - and Matt.

Matt, Matt, Matt -

Mamá is gone, though. And maybe my abusers saw me as Matt, at least before I was brought to the compound where we were given numbers instead of names - but the survivors see me as Matt, too. Nolan and Bryce. Carter and Casey. Dr. Singh.Ace.

To them, I’m Matt.

Icouldbe Matt.

I could…tryto be, at least.

Besides, mamá would be broken up inside if she found out what happened to her little boy. If she found out that he’s been dead all this time, dead since Mica and brown shoes and only, only, only. Matt is all that’s left now.

Mamá can keep my name from before. She can keep it safe.

Matt will be the ghost.

“Are you with me, Matt?”

I guess maybe I am.

I nod.

“I want to help you tell your story.” I look up at him. There’s no smile anymore. His face is all intensity and determination.

This is important.He may not have said that - or if he did, I didn’t hear it - but I can tell that this part is really important for me to understand.

“But it will always beyourstory. I want to help you tell it and understand it and own it, but it will never stop beingyours. No matter how long it takes, no matter how many bad days and good days, no matter how many setbacks or victories, no matter if you want me by your side every single step of the way or decide you want to do things on your own, this will never stop beingyourstory. No one gets to take that from you. Not ever again.”

The words don’t feel real. I want them to be, though. I really want them to be.

“But here’s the most important part, Matt. Are you ready to hear it?” I nod. He smiles then, warm and bright. It’s nice. It feels good to have something nice again after losing it earlier. “I think you’re going to be able to write yourself one hell of a happy ending.”

That -

That sounds nice.

That sounds really, really nice.

I don’t realize I’m crying until I taste the salt of my tears on my lips. I tilt my head, pressing my face into the so soft fur of my bunny. It’ll make him wet for a little while, but my tears never ruin him. We’ve already tested it together.

He’s such a good thing - my bunny. Such a nice, good thing. Just like the notebooks and the pretty pens. Just like the hair products. Just like the apple. Just like this whole place might be, like Dr. Singh might be, like Ace might be.

I haven’t had good things in so long.

I don’t want to ruin this, I don’t want him to tell me he was wrong and I’m not ready to tell my story yet, so I try to look at him again. I try to fumble my hand to my chest, even though my bunny is in the way. I circle my fist again and again, big movements for emphasis.

Sorry.