Everyone's Mate (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 18

AUTHORS NOTE: Hi, guys! For those of you that indeed, did not fan me, you're probably wondering why it took so long for me to update. Truth was, I didn't know where I was going with this story. Another truth: I am 100% winging it. The beginning of this chapter has something that has to do with what happened to me in real life just a couple days ago. A few of my friends know what happened, but you all dont. I lost a storage unit with all of my belongings in it - and the aforementioned things in this story - the cards, arron's dad's cards? Same for me. All the things aaron lost in this chapter, I lost as well in real life, except for the house. So, inspiration for this chapter came pretty bittersweet. I figured you all have had to wait for so long, you're probably gonna want more than this. Trust me, tomorrow I'll begin writing the next chapter of this story. This is chapter friggin' 18! I'm kind of psyched to hit the big twenty - but of course, that's two chapters away. LETS HOPE I GET THERE FOLKS! Intermission over!

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There’s something extra painful about losing everything you’ve ever known. I’ve lost everything – twice.

This time would make the third.

For the most part, after I’d woken up, the shock and the pain had kept me from realizing how exactly big this was. A few more payments and I would’ve owned it. Just a few couple thousand away from having a place where no one could hurt me. Having a home. A place where I could be safe.

I had my whole life in there. Everything I ever cared about or owned.

The few toys I had been given as a kid, packed up because I could no longer look at them but I couldn’t throw them away, either. My dad’s old collection of cards that were probably worth more than four grand. My personal box of cards that I cherished. All the furniture I had worked to pay for. My old Nintendo I got a long time ago from a charitable woman who had been my foster mom. It had been a welcome home gift, my first day as their child, really. She’d let me keep it even after she returned me only a month later, after finding out her husband was a closet child molester. My grandparent’s anniversary music box my mom had given me as an infant to listen to. I loved falling asleep to that thing. My dad’s jewelry box; the dog tag he always wore that mom had gotten him, one I never remember him taking off. My Dvd’s. My books. The biggest kicker and yet the smallest is…the last present my parents had ever given me was in there. Everything that made up ME. All of it.

Gone.

It kills me to know I can’t do anything about it. Though I don’t hold it against Alex – he saved all of our lives doing that one ingenious thing – it still feels as if everything I worked for, everything I collected and loved, was stolen from me.

I felt violated in the most intimate, note-worthy way, and the sad thing is I knew this feeling. Knew it like a brother knows a brother. I was no stranger to being violated, to having things broken and being taken from me. I should have known. Should have known it would happen again.

I know these things are just material possessions. But these material possessions – they hold sentiment you can’t buy. Memories you can’t get back. They HELP me remember. And I don’t want to forget. The scariest thing I’ve ever realized is that I don’t remember my parent’s faces.

Which leads me to here, where I curled myself up against a wall, my legs pulled up to my chest, my chin resting on my knees, letting the tears fall because it was between classes and no one would see. No one would see how much it hurt me.