A/N: Hey Guys!
So how've you been? Long time no write.
Sorry I haven't written. Our school's musical Legally Blonde has been going on and I've been busy juggling the musical and homework. But, I'M BACK WITH A BRAND NEW RAP!
Just a reminder, I'm still not gonna state who's POV it is in the very beginning. I will in a couple chapters, but I think it's a nice touch of suspense or mysteriousness.
Anyway,
Enjoy!
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I entered the house with my head held high with fake courage, hoping my parents wouldn't catch on to my pain. What was I gonna say about the bruises and the wincing pain? Dodgeball in P.E today. Blame it on dodgeball.
I walked through the doorway, down the short corridor decorated with pictures and shelves, and into the kitchen. My mother stood at the island in the middle of the cooking area, chopping vegetables for dinner I presume. My father was in the living room with the audible sound of the television on. My mother looked up from her station at the island.
"Hey sweethea-" She stopped mid-greating. Her face of happiness and cheeriness quickly turned into concern and worry. "What happened? Did you get bullied again? Was it Mark Fischbach again? Is there any blood? How many times-" I interrupted her, annoyed about how my mother jumped to conclusions. Correct conclusions, but jumped to nonetheless.
"Mom, I'm fine. We just played dodgeball today in P.E, and it got a little rough. They're just bruises. I'll be okay." I lied through my teeth with a grin on my face. I tried not to show the wincing pain through my whole body as I tried to stand normally. I walked over to the near dining room table and slumped my backpack off my shoulder, trying to look normal as warm pain shoots through my arms, elbows, and shoulders.
"CONNOR FRANTA, WHAT IS THAT ON THE BACK OF YOUR HEAD?!" My mother screamed out from behind me. I jumped with so much velocity that I hit my hand on the bottom of the table and new, fresh pain engulfed my right hand. I cringed at the pain, on the verge of tears. I'm guessing she was screaming about the huge welt from the locker I got my head slammed into. I hear my dad jump off his recliner and rush past the kitchen, into the dining room.
"Cheryl, what is all this screaming abo-OH my God!" My dad exclaimed with a disgusted look on his face. "Connor, what the hell happened?!"
"He said it was from 'dodgeball in P.E' today!" My mother turned and said to my father, putting emphasis on "dodgeball in P.E". I knew I couldn't really lie past my parents, especially my mother. She saw right through my lies, catching onto my nervous ticks every time I lie.
"Connor, tell us the truth!" My father yelled at the top of his lungs. "What will lying get you, huh? Absolutely nothing, damn it! So what actually happened, Connor?!" My father screamed again. I was too shaken up to move my lips.
My heart was racing and bumping loudly in my ear. I was sweating bullets and my hands got clammy. I tried to make my mouth form words, but nothing came out except unknown gibberish.
"I...urgh...umm...uhh..." I swallowed hard as I felt my Adam's apple bob up and down. I couldn't let them know. Mark will find and potentially hurt me more, not to mention the terrible rumors and conspiracies if I get Mark in trouble or for going to my mother and telling Mark to her. It's a suicide to tell her about Mark either way.
In thinking this, I push past both my parents, hang a left into the kitchen, another left to enter the stairwell, opened my door, and shut it with tears developing my eyes.
As I shut my door, I lean on the closed door and slide down into a seated position, eyes puffy with tears. I shove my head into my hands, feeling on the sadness spilling into my palms.
What a fucking summer this turned out to be so far. I was bullied on the last day and my parents were yelling at me and interrogating me. Although I know they are my parents, but do they really need to yell at me? I mean I understand they're concerned, but damn. That just adds to the tension and anxiety.
As I brush away the few tears I had left, I lifted my head and pushed myself up from my previous seating position. I motion myself towards my bed, which upon getting to, I fall downward into. I lay there on my stomach loathing.
But, that's when I hear muffled assertive talk coming from the first floor of the house. I only caught a few parts of the argument unfolding.
"-Are we gonna do with him? We've taken him to therapy, complained to the school board, and-" Muffled argument replaces my father's stern voice.
I rolled over onto my back, staring at the ceiling. What did I do to deserve this? Did I do something wrong?
*Trigger(ish) Warning*
As I was enveloped in my thoughts, I felt a slight tingle on my forearms. My heart rate picked up. No. I didn't need this right now. No no no no no! The tingle got stronger and grew up my forearm. No no no no no! Stop! I clenched my comforters and gritted my teeth at the sensation. I needed my journal.
Fuck. I left it downstairs with my backpack.
Shit. What am I gonna do besides...anything I'll regret. Ow, shit!
The tingle moved onto the other forearm and began stinging. It's like my flesh was crying out for me to punish it. It's taking every atom of my being not to run into my bathroom and...let the red run. My knuckles turned white and I bit my lip almost making bleed to fight the sharp needle-like pains in my forearms. God, it's becoming impossible. I need to get my journal soon or-
"Connor?" I heard my mother's voice from downstairs. Her voice wavered as she spoke. " Connor, could you come down here, please?" Her voice was filled with concern and worry.
I unclenched the comforters and released my lip. The tingles and pain began to slowly subside. I stared at the ceiling as I took one deep breath, and forced myself up from my laying position.
I worked myself towards my door and moved into the hallway. I shuffle down the steps slowly with caution. I got to the bottom of the staircase and moved past the kitchen and into the dining room. My parents were in chairs that faced the doorway I was in. On the dining table was an opened laptop.
What the hell is this? An AA meeting?
"Connor," My mom began to speak, "we feel like it's best for you to try something new rather than therapy." She hands me the laptop off the table.
I immediately see a guy off the the right of the webpage. He looked about in his early to mid-twenties. His dirty blonde hair was quaffed up and to the left and he obtained dark grey-ish blue eyes. Off to the left of his headshot was the title of the page.
The Graceffa Teen Summer Camp?
"We feel like trying this camp will definitely help. It's a summer camp that will allow you to make some friends and possibly get some help. We think it will benefit you in so many ways, Connor. It's like any other typical summer camp, but with counselor help." My mother spoke with assertiveness in her voice.
I scrolled down to look at the rest of the page. Archery, hiking, boating, fishing, camp fires, cabins, a mess hall, gymnasium, a lake, counselor help, and free wifi.
"Well no matter how much I might gripe and moan about how I don't wanna go, you'll still have me go, won't you?"
"Come on, Connor. It's a delightful place! I mean look at the owner. Mr. Graceffa is only twenty-three and he owns a very successful summer camp. Its critically acclaimed. And just think of all the new opportunities of making friends!" My father speaks with excitement and fake enthusiasm.
I'm disgusted by the thought of people. But if they really think it'll benefit me...
"I guess I'll give it a try."
"Really?" My father questions with a glint in his eyes.
"I guess." I'm terrified. I really don't wanna go, but I don't want to displease my parents. I feel my heart thumping in my ear. My hands get really clammy, just like when I first entered the house.
"Great, Connor!" My mother jumps up from her sitting position and gives me a great big hug. I wrap my arms around her just to go along with it. I hope she doesn't catch on to my actual feelings with my heart beating and my cold hands. But, she pulls away with no interjection. "Here I'll make you a deal. If you don't like it and want to go home, you can call us and we'll come and get you. Sound good?"
I guess it wouldn't be as nerve-racking, knowing that if I felt super uncomfertable, I could just come home. "Sounds cool." I responded.
"Alright! I'll enroll you right now!" She sat down at the laptop and began typing. "Connor, I'm so proud of you! I'm glad you're stepping a little outside your comfort zone! Pete, go get my purse, will you? I need my credit card."
"Sure, hon." My father stepped out of the dining room and into the kitchen to fetch my mother's purse.
As soon as my father stepped out, my mother motioned me with her hand to come here. She shifted closer to me.
"It's two weeks and it's out-of-state. You think you can handle that?"
Out-of-state?! I hate being away from home when I'm at school, nonetheless out of state. Home is where I feel comfortable, safe, and cozy. The thought of being out-of-state scared me half to death.
"I can handle that." But of course, I lied through my teeth. " Like you said, if I'm uncomfortable, I can call you guys."
"Okay Connor." She relied with a smile on her face.
I turned on my heels to leave. I walked towards the doorway out of the dining room and made my way towards the stairs.
"Oh, and Connor?" I hear my mother say. I turned back around to face her.
"Make sure your father doesn't see this." She extended her arm out. She held something in her hand.
Oh God.
"Keep better track of your journal." I move towards her and snatch it out of her hands.
"How much did you read?"
"Oh honey, I've been reading that thing for months."
Holy shit.
"Before you have a panic attack, I promise that it's all safe with me." She quips with a gentle smile on her face. My eyes are wide open in shock and jaw is on the floor. "Also, go clean up your face. You look like you enrolled in Fight Club."
I stood there for a second in shock and disbelief until I register what she said. I back out of the room slowly, dart up the stairs, and enter my room. I can't believe it. She knows everything. Every single solitary word I put in here. That would be the second time I've not kept track of my journal.
I fall on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I feel no tingles or needle-like pains or anything. I just lay there motionless.
I guess I'm not just gonna be home for the summer anymore.
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A/N: Sooooooo...yeah that's a thing.
I'm so happy I get to FINALLY publish this! I've been working on it since last week but I got swamped. I was gonna finish it yesterday, but my music group went to Chicago to go see the Blue Man Group!
So yeah. Life happens. Anyway,
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Love you guys!
-Dylan