"Woodie." The father called him, and he turned to look at him, but not a word escaped his lips. "Is everything okay?" He sat down beside him on the bed and inquired with a worried expression evident on his face.
Woodie gazed at their apprehensive expressions and slightly shook his head, still not uttering a single word.
The mother's face altered into deep anxiety, and she raised her hand to caress his cheek lovingly. "Woodie, say something. We want to hear your voice." She pleaded, but not a word came from him.
It all continued like this and eventually, they believed that he had lost his voice and was unable to speak. Indeed, Woodie had lost his voice, or maybe he was afraid to speak. Who knows?
That night never stopped hunting him and he kept having nightmares about it until the day he met his wife, after high school. That was the day he spoke, and it was also the day he stopped having those nightmares.
