I THOUGHT ABOUT EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED SINCE IH AD MET HIM IN THE HALLWAY AFTER 3RD PERIOD. IT HAD ALL HAPPENED SO FAST. FOR EIGHTEEN YEARS, ID LIVE MY LIFE IN A NORMAL WAY, CRUISING ALONG A COURSE THAT SEEMED SO PEACEFUL, SOMEWHAT PREDICTABLE, T...
My mind was reeling out of control when Dad led Mom and me out of the police station. I had known it was coming, but on top of everything else, this was just too much to deal with. I was mad as hell and I was more scared than I'd ever been in my life; scared for Khalil, scared of any of those guys dying, scared of doing jail time or going to prison for it all, scared of what my mom would do, scared of everyone I knew finding out what had happened and all about Khalil and me, and scared of things I hadn't even thought of yet. I was confused, unsure of everything-- and then we walked out the door of HPD to be mobbed by reporters.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Could this nightmare get any more insane?
My knees were so rubbery I was afraid I looked drunk when I walked. I had to concentrate on every step I took. I felt my face go flush and my ears burned. I had never in my life imagined that I would be the object of news cameras and I had no clue how to deal with it. I just wanted to disappear. My adrenaline was pumping almost as fast as it had last night when I jumped up into that pickup. They were firing questions at me from every direction at once and every question went straight to my gut, adding to the twisting, knotting sensation of my empty stomach eating itself. If it hadn't have been empty, I'm sure I would have thrown up.
Khalil was lying in a hospital bed, in who knows what condition, and my whole life was now unraveling in front of cameras, up close and personal for all of metropolitan Houston to witness. It was just supposed to have been a fun night out.
"Did you really fight three at one time and is it true they had weapons but you fought with your bare hands?"
"What will you do if Steven Castilar dies? Do you have anything to say to his parents?"
"Which gay nightclub were you leaving from?"
"How long have you been a homosexual?"
"Are you and Khalil Dresden homosexual lovers? Is that why you tried to killed those boys after they attacked him?"
I guess none of them realized that if I had actually intended to kill them, they would be dead; but it didn't seem like a good time to point that out.
They kept firing questions at me and asking my parents about their jobs. When I saw Mom and Dad ducking the questions about NASA and car dealerships, it struck me that my being gay somehow just might end up having an effect on their positions after all, and I felt even worse. At least we didn't have to answer any of their questions.
