The Legends Say That Every Year A Boy Just Barely Seventeen Is Given To The House On Top Of The Largest Hill In The Village, Inside The House Waits Eight Demons Ready To Claim Their Prize... One Has Already Been Claimed Will Another Fall Into Their...
He left the house and walked down the driveway to the mailbox where he opened it to see a thick package in it. He pulled it out along with the other mail and headed back inside. When he got inside he put the mail on the table by the door where his keys was before heading to the couch to sit down and open the package. Once seated he opened it and pulled out...an antique leather bound handmade bullet journal.
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It was a really thoughtful and pretty gift even if it was from his cousin and the demon who put a spell on him. He could use this to write his feelings down since the one he was currently using was now full. He sighed before he stood, set the journal on the coffee table before heading to the kitchen to make dinner. His mother taught him to cook when he was fifteen and had been making dinner for them for a while now since he gets home before them. As he made dinner he thought about how he wished his parents would just get a divorce already. He was old enough that they didn't have to take care of him anymore so why not just get divorced and start actually living for once.
He could say the same thing for himself about actually living. Type had never had a boyfriend or girlfriend, never been kissed on the lips, never had sex and has never been in love. He was just moving through the motions and he knew it. It's not like he didn't want to find someone but it was hard when someone touches him for more than a few seconds and he gets flashbacks to when his babysitter used run her hands over him. It's not as bad as it was when he was eight or nine but sometimes when a stranger accidentally bumps into him or touches him for too long to get his attention he would go into one of his meltdowns.
He wished things could be different, he wished what happened to him never happened to him and he could be a regular seventeen year old who is doing what regular seventeen year olds do like finding a boyfriend or girlfriend, making out with them, having sex with them and planning a future with them. No, that's not how it is for Type, Type is damaged, he's got anger issues and has panic attacks and hates being alone due to his memories of the many nights his babysitter molested him. He only deals with being alone now cause he has no one but Can right now and Can has a part time job and homework and a family of his own.
Type just had to deal with it the only way he knew how, writing about it or cooking the loneliness away while fighting back the memories. You think after many therapy sessions this shit would go away...no, it never goes away and he just has to deal with it with the help of his therapist and his writing.
"Something smells good, what are you making?" His mother's voice asked from the living room.
"Stir fry" he said as she walked in.
"I think that's just what I need after the day I had." She said.
"What happened?" He asked.
"Stuff at work and stuff with your father." She said. Type sighed and decided it was time for things to change around here.
"Mom..just ask for a divorce." He said surprising his mother.
"Type.."
"I know he's been seeing the single mother down the street, it's a small village and dad sucks at hiding things. It's time to officially end this marriage and start putting yourself first for once."
"I know...we stayed together for so long so you could grow up with both your parents." She said as Type put some of the stir fry on two plates.
"I know and I thank you for that but now it's time to stop pretending and live in reality." He said. Saying that made something in his chest hurt but he ignored it, right now wasn't about his problems.
"When did my son get so wise?" She asked kissing his cheek before taking the plate he held out for her.
"Well when you have a 4.0 gpa you tend to be very wise." He teased.
"More like a wise ass." His mother replied making Type chuckle and joined his mother at the table. His father came home as they finished dinner and Type excused himself so they could talk. He grabbed his new journal and headed upstairs to his room to reply to Team's email and tell him the news of his parents impending divorce.
After sending the email he removed his clothes minus his boxer briefs before climbing into his bed. He grabbed a pen from his nightstand, opened the new journal to the first page before starting to write. He was almost on the third page when a knock on the door interrupted him. He told whoever it was to come in and the door opened to reveal his father.
"Hey..." Type said.
"Hey, I just wanted to come tell you goodbye, I'm going to stay with a friend for awhile."
"You mean your girlfriend?" Type said surprising his father. "It's a small village dad and you suck at keeping secrets."
"How long have you known?" He asked.
"Three years" he said making his father sigh.
"Type, your mother and I-" he started to say but Type cut him off.
"You don't need to explain I just want you and mom to be happy. You guys have spent nine years in a miserable marriage because of me so now that I'm old enough it's time to end it."
"I love you son"
"Love you too dad" Type said before his father left. Type sighed before continuing writing, he knew doing this should have soften his heart towards Team and Win but it didn't, he was closer to Team and best friends don't let best friends be stuck in a cursed relationship.
I'm really not sure about this chapter, I know it was important for the story but something about it just doesn't do it for me.
