After getting away from his cruel father's tyranny, Randall has to learn how to live again, and accept the person he was meant to be - with a little help of a local bartender...
*****
An empty shell is all what is left of twenty-five-yea...
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-Randall-
Five o'clock was decades away. Actually, it was just thirty minutes, but after spending the entire day waiting for the right time to leave for the gym, it might as well have been an eternity. My focus had been gone the second I woke up in the morning, so I never had a chance to do anything else but wait. Wait as the minutes went by as slowly as possible...
Wait and battle against myself.
Being left all alone in my silent apartment was slowly eating away at me, my erratic thoughts taking pieces of my sanity, and more than once... no... more than a hundred times, I found myself deciding not to go to the gym at five. Or ever. I even considered moving far away from that place.
And him.
But I wanted to see him.
Seeing him scared me, but at the same time I was strong enough to keep fighting that fear and my father's words. It had been a long, long day, but it was almost five. Only thirty minutes... No, actually, fifteen minutes. I didn't have to wait until five. And I could just leave already.
But I stayed on the couch, staring at my watch. My feet didn't obey me for some reason. I couldn't get up. My strength was gone, stolen by the thought of seeing Cole.
"What the fuck are you doing...?" I whispered, hiding my face behind my hand.
I couldn't go. Why did I ever think I could go, knowing what he wanted from me...? Knowing he was... he was one of them. My father's words grew stronger, gaining space, and stealing my energy.
"Dirty fags!"
N-no... They weren't... They weren't like... like that...
Cole...
"I completely understand if you don't feel like it, so no pressure."
I stood up before I even noticed it. Suddenly, it was easy to go grab my bag and walk to the door. I only stopped to put on my jacket and shoes, then headed out of the apartment. I was early, but I didn't care. I knew if I stopped now, that would be it. I'd lose.
I couldn't stop.
The closer I got to the gym, the better I felt. It wasn't a major improvement, but an improvement, nonetheless. And then I stood at the door. I stared at my own reflection in the glass, trying to see myself as the person I was supposed to be, not as the one my father wanted. I tried to see someone in the image that was staring back at me, but there was only the empty shell. There was no one looking back at me. The lights were on, but no one was home.
What was I doing?
What was I doing...? Why did I even try? I was nothing. There was nothing under my skin. I wasn't a person. I was air. Just like my father always said. Meaningless. Waste of space. Not worthy of having a life.
