Touch Me

Virtue

We ended up moving back home. His last job was well paying. And he already had it open. He had friends who didn't care if he's gay. Friends who accept me into their group. His mom was there.

We didn't have a lot in Massachusetts. All we really had was each other.

We managed to buy our old house back. It was more expensive than before, but it wasn't too bad. Our budget was just a little tight for a bit. But it was nice to be back. Our house felt like ours again. The only issue was that being back at house, the memories were harder to differentiate from reality, and they happened more easily. This was the house the events happened in, after all.
It was nice to be down the street from Kevin's mother again.

And Kevin was glad to have his friends back. After his first day of work, Kevin had all his friends over. All of them. It ended up being a little like a party. I'd never been to one. But it was cool. I was worried I'd have nobody to talk to, but Kevin was by my side as often as he could be, checking on me, and just making conversation. And when he wasn't, his friends talked to me. It was nice. I'd like to say we weren't drinking, but we were. People drink when they get together. It's not like anyone was wasted or anything. But we were drinking.

Eventually, people started to group together. They were all in conversation, and I wasn't. I was just standing there stiffly, trying to not seem like the odd one out. I finished an entire beer just trying to seem busy by doing so. Eventually, I gave up and went to the bathroom to just spend some time away from the people. I brought my beer with me, and sat at the edge of the bathtub, drinking. It was a nice break, I'll admit. I like his friends, but being around more than three people at once stresses me out.

It's not like I was hiding in the bathroom or anything.. I was just taking a breather. Away from everyone. Alone in the bathroom.

As I was getting ready to go back out, I set my bottle down on the edge of the counter. Unfortunately, it slipped when I turned around. The bottle shattered on the tile floor. I'm all too familiar with the sound of a bottle breaking. I'm all too familiar with the feeling of a broken bottle.

I stumbled back to the corner of the bathroom, letting myself fall to the floor. It hurt. Why did it hurt?
I remember the day my father broke a bottle on me. I remember the sharp glass in my skin. I remember my father screaming at me. All I'd done was talk to Kevin. And because of that, I had broken glass in my side. I could hardly even see, tears blocking my vision, the sting of the cuts incredibly intense.
All you'd be able to hear was yelling. My father screaming. My own shouts in pain. It's terrifying, truly. He derived pleasure from my pain. Like he was teaching me a lesson. He had no sympathy, as he beat me senseless. His eyes were filled to the brim with anger.

"Don't you ever talk to him again!"

"I won't! I-I promise..! Please, I'm so sorry!" I'd sob

"You're not sorry! Sorry's not good enough!"

"I'm so sorry, I swear! Please stop, I won't talk to him again!! I promise, I won't!"

"You said that before, nothing's changed! This is the only way you'll learn!"

"Please, I learned my lesson, just please stop!!"

He'd continue to scream at and batter me, as long as he felt justified.

"...Connor, what's happening?!" Kevin asked, slightly panicked, due to how unresponsive I was. Fortunately, this snapped me out of it a bit.

I could feel tears run down my cheeks, but I wasn't able to dry them. I was still in pain. I could breathe easier than last time, but I was sobbing so heavily that I would choke on my tears.
Presumably, my switch back to reality was visible to him, as he looked a little calmer. Not calm. But calmer.