But Now We're Stressed Out

Awaiting my imminent death

"But buttercup..."  Remus whined. 

"Put it away,"   Evan said with his serious face.

Remus sighed and slowly put the knife away.  A pout on his face the entire time.  I sighed and rubbed my temple. My migraine is managing to worsen even more.

"Let's just get this over with," I mumbled, not waiting for them to answer before heading to the front door.

~•~

I stared up at my house. What was once my own safe space that had now been invaded by my father. Yet another thing he took from me.

The warm inviting feel of the house suddenly didn't feel so inviting. Hell, it didn't even feel like my home.

"I'm not sure I can do this," I mumbled, tears welling in my eyes again. I rested my head on the steering wheel.

"Yes you can," Remus told me. "You're gonna march in there like a boss and make that douche feel like a dick for hurting you. And if he doesn't care, who gives a shit. The three of us still love you."

"Or you don't have to go in," Evan said in a more gentle manner. "You don't have to force yourself to do something that's going to upset you."

My response was opening the car door. I got out and forced myself to walk up to the front door quickly. But I did pause once I reached the door.

Remus, Evan and Quinn followed me quickly. I stood at the door apprehensively for a few seconds. But then I forced myself yet again to just open the door.

The house felt colder than usual. I headed into the formal sitting room where Mom and Dad were. I stayed in the doorway, glaring Harold Atticus down.

"Took you long enough," Dad complained. He picked up his glass of whisky and took a sip.

"Why are you back?" I asked. "If you hate me so much why not just leave me and mom alone to fend for ourselves."

"A quaint little town close to the shore. Stays fairly cool year round with tall beautiful pine trees. What's not to love?" He asked with a smile. "Besides, I couldn't just leave my wife here alone."

He rested his hand on her thigh. Confusion filled me. Why is mom going along with this?

"Damien," She said in here high shrill voice. "You haven't been the only one keeping secrets. Your father and I never divorced."

I had problems processing that information. My hands clenched into fists but then I remembered what my therapist told me to do when I'm angry. Deep calm breaths, breath in the peace, breath out the anger.

"What?" I seethed.

"I don't think that requires further explanation," Dad said with a sly smile. "Now who are these other boys with you."

"These are my boyfriends," I told him confidently.

I grabbed Evan and Remus's hands. Quinn was standing mostly behind me, holding tightly to my leather jacket. Quinn's had his fair share of abusive fathers and I could tell this was upsetting him.

"All...three...of them?" Dad asked, shock clearly written across his face.

"Yes and I love all of them," I said. "You can't separate us or take me from them."

"What are their names?" He questioned. A cunning look in his eyes.

"None of your damn business," I hissed at him.

For a few seconds, the two of us just stared angrily at each other. Hatred took over his eyes. I could tell by how the way he was clenching his hands that he wanted to hurt me. But there was an audience.

"I want your faggot ass out of my house," Dad told me angrily. "And I'm disowning you as your son."

"I could give two shits about that," I shrugged. "You've already basically done that anyways."

"If I disown you, you won't receive any of your inheritance," Dad said with a sly smile. "No more expensive allowance or money from me."

"I guess it's a good thing Mom already gave me my inheritance and I put it in a different bank with no ties to your account," I told him. I couldn't help but smirk as Dad's face twisted into an angry one.

Before I knew what was happening, Dad grabbed the lamp sitting on the coffee table next to him. Then the lamp was flying at me.

My thoughts first went to protecting Evan and Quinn. I know well enough that Remus can protect himself. Quinn screamed and I could feel his body start to convulse as an episode set in.

The lamp shattering against my back. I'm more than thankful I was wearing my leather jacket or all the glass and plaster could've gone into my back.

But it still really hurt. I was close to be winded. I glared back at Dad while he was fuming with anger.

"Get out," Dad growled, grabbing a heavy book end this time.

"Can I at least pack my things?" I asked. My voice was barely stronger than a whisper.

"You have five minutes," He told me. "Any longer and you're all dead."