This Isn't Target Practice {Tom}

«TRIDENT PRIMEVAL»

The sound of birds chirping is something that many people wake up to in the morning. I've never heard that sound before. After all, I've never heard any sounds before. To have noise resonate against your ear drum and tell your brain something- how does that feel? I have no idea. Other factors in life mean a lot more to me, anyway. What I see and what I feel make up for the lack of noise in my life. Some could say it's almost peaceful not to have to deal with some sounds in the world. I've heard that screams and cries are some of the worst sounds that your ears can catch.

What wakes me up in the morning is not the noise of an alarm clock. Instead, it is either a member of my family shaking me awake, or the light shining through the window near my bed. I start by sitting up and pushing the covers off of me. Then, my feet hit the floor and I rise up to a standing position. I get dressed and head downstairs, opening the door with my one arm. I made a gesture to my family members that I saw when I woke up that was our way of saying 'good morning'. Breakfast is likely one of the easier meals for me to eat, as it doesn't involve cutting my food, which can be rather difficult sometimes. The reason this is difficult for me is because I only have one arm, and my prosthetic arm is not as functional as a real arm, meaning I can't really use it for average tasks.

I can tell when people tease me about my disabilities at places like school. I don't need to be able to hear them to know that their comments are not polite. It's hard for me to communicate with much of anyone aside from my family, with whom I've developed my own form of communication, meaning that I can't really tell people off when they are being mean to me. More often than not, if I'm by myself, I will get shoved or hit by people, rather than spoken to, as they want me to feel bad about myself, but know I can't hear them if they say something instead.

When I was finished eating my breakfast that morning, I brushed my teeth and waved a simple goodbye to my father, who returned it back to me. I headed out the door and closed it behind me. Then, I started down the street. I was rather tired that morning, having tossed and turned in an almost entirely sleepless night. That meant that I was a bit sluggish as I walked around the District.

I had brought a book with me, planning on finding a place to just sit, relax and read. That was something I always enjoyed doing, especially when the weather was rather nice outside. It was somewhat hot, yes, but I preferred it over rain or cold weather. When I was headed to find somewhere to sit, however, I was shoved down out of nowhere. I hadn't expected it, but someone had pushed me to the ground rather hard. They ripped my book from my grasp, and by the look on their face, I could tell that they were laughing, despite not being able to hear it. I tried to stand back up, but they shoved me to the ground again.

Why am I always the target? I thought to myself.