Forged [1]

A Silhouette

I nervously looked up, sniffing. My mom was looking at my dad, who was glaring at me.

"Gay?!" He pretty much shouted, "I didn't raise a goddamn faggot!"

"Richard!" My mom yelled at him, tears in her eyes. I hoped that she was crying because of what my dad had said to me, not because of what I told them.

"Get out of my house!!" My dad yelled at me, standing up. "Get out and don't come back!!"

"Richard, please," my mom begged, standing up. I was frozen where I was sitting.

"I won't let a faggot live under my roof!" He shouted. "Get out!"

I stood, wiping my eyes and trying to look tough. I wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, I bolted to the door, hurriedly pulling it open and running outside.

I ran down the front sidewalk of the New York City townhouse and onto the sidewalk next to the street. I kept running and running, tears spilling down my cheeks. I could faintly hear my mom yelling behind me. I quickly became winded since I was practically bawling my eyes out, but I kept running until I collapsed.

I looked around, not recognizing where I was. It was late at night, so not many people were roaming the streets like they do during the day.

I stood up, still trying to catch my breath. I was still crying hysterically, so of course it didn't really work.

"Hey!" I heard from across the street. I looked over, seeing the silhouette of a woman. She walked across the street and put her hand on my shoulder. "Are you alright? What're you doing out so late? Shouldn't you be home?"

Home. The word stung.