YOU GUYS ARE LITERALLY ANGELS LIKE, OH LORD, I GOT SO MANY PEOPLE WANTING TO HELP AND I FEEL ALL WARM AND FUZZY! HOLY SHIT! THANK YOU! xxx
(This chapter was written by me and the talented, no_one_deserves_pain. Seriously go check her out, she's the sweetest, most easy going, supportive person out there <3 She's also my separated-at-birth-twin so yeah.. Go give her some love k?)
So without further ado, here's the chapter that took 20 years to write :)
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I couldn't say anything; My eyes were probably freakishly wide as I opened and closed my mouth. I settled on clamping my jaw shut as no words could come out. I felt like I should be mad, but I wasn't. I'm not sure what I was feeling, but it wasn't quite anger. "Please say something." Isaac whimpered.
It was so strange, Isaac being this nervous, not to mention nice. He used to be the seemingly proud owner of a kick towards my stomach and was nearly walking on egg shells now, trying to weigh my reactions
I couldn't just 'say something' though, I was completely lost for words. Bryan found out. Isaac's shaky voice rang in my ears, repeating itself as if I didn't hear him the first time. I guess Rick and Isaac came out to him then. But I can't really imagine that; my two tormentors, hand in hand, smiles wide and ready to share the big news -so maybe Bryan caught them instead? That's not really something I want to picture either. Or maybe it was just a lie, it wasn't as if me and Isaac were best pals, ready to share our deepest darkest secrets [Ricky Dillion - Out dfhest darfest sefherts (I'm not making fun of his lisp, its a reference :P)]. Although this did, in a way, balance things out after he had caught me on the bridge, but this had also added a whole new bump in the road. Scratch that, this was a mountain.
"I- ...what? No, ..no no, you can't just- I can't-I can't do this...fuck.." I finally mumbled, my eyes not quite reaching the scared boy in front of me. I really just needed to process all of this, or maybe I didn't, because in the long run, this wouldn't matter. I had plans, somewhere to be after all of this, and I wouldn't have time to hold a grudge, or be confused. I'm sure Isaac would hate to hear where I was going, but I didn't really care, and actually, scratch that, over the years he's made it very clear that he wouldn't give a shit. I still hated him, and his little bipolar 'crush' too. Rick was just an asshole that I didn't know how to act around, but Isaac seemed to be half decent for now, maybe I was being too harsh, no probably not. Isaac just nodded shakily, though I'm not completely sure why, or why he seemed so scared. Maybe he didn't mean to tell me that, it did seem out of the blue, kind of an 'in the moment' confession. He probably thought I'd go around telling people, but I wouldn't, and even though Isaac and his buddies have done some horrible things to me, I'm a strong believer in the fact that two wrongs don't make a right - and it's not like anyone would believe me anyway. 'Hey! I know you all hate me, but listen up! Those guys that have been beating on me while you cheer them on are actually flaming homosexuals!' Yeah, that wouldn't go over so well.
I walk backwards a bit, staring at the floor and shaking my head. I was somehow trying to communicate to him not to follow me in my own little way before turning around and sprinting out the door, leaving Isaac fairly confused. I don't know why he didn't try to stop me, not that I wanted him too, but he seemed pretty freaked out about the whole, jumping thing. I wonder if Isaac thinks I've given up on the idea. I haven't, but that's not where I was going ...yet.
With my newly obtained information and confusion, I sprinted down his drive way towards my house. I realize that I probably could have been a little more level-headed about it instead of just mumbling nonsense and leaving, maybe I could have sat us down and we could have an nice, excruciatingly long talk about this. Isaac was probably freaking out right now. But if I look back at all the things he's ever done to me, I couldn't care less. I racked my brain, remembering that Isaac had turned right up ahead, so I took the correct street and continued my fast placed walk home.
It was surpirising cold out, with the wind slapping me in the face every few seconds and coloring my cheeks pink. My nose on the other hand was bright red. The trees were gray and nearly bare, their crumbled, brown leaves crunching under my hurried steps and littering the ground along the street lamp lit road.
When I passed the bridge again, the temptation to swing my legs over the side and to throw my hands up, feeling the wind rush through my hair on the way down, my worries left on the ledge 50 feet above me as I hit the water was exhilarating, but also dissatisfying. I couldn't attempt to kill myself twice in one night, that would be pitiful. Isaac had ruined everything tonight, making my head run wild when it shouldn't be running at all. My orifices could be filling my body with dirty city water by now. Maybe I'd be some kind of human water balloon, floating around in the current till my shirt snags on a low hanging branch and I pop. Surprised by my morbid imagination, I shivered in disgust and turned away, focusing on the sidewalk that continued to rush out from under my feet.
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Three minutes later, I lie on my unmade bed, staring up at my popcorn ceiling and watching the many shadows and highlights dance in front of my unfocused eyes. And in my slightly relaxed moment, it really hit me, full force. They've been bullying me for years for being gay. It was shocking to think that it could have been some giant hypocritical party while I was still mentally, as well as physically scarred in the process. And then the weight of the anger came flooding in, suffocating me as it wrapped its dark arms around me, letting itself sink into my pores and flow through my veins. How could they be so cruel as to dress as a wolf among the sheep? How could Isaac pull up their masks for me, only after they've devoured everything. How could Isaac, the one who almost seemed like a kind of nice guy now, do this? But maybe his new attitude was just one of the side affects to seeing your tormentee about to take their last breath on top of a bridge... when its partly your fault. Who would see that and bring me into their home to beat me up? Maybe Bryan ...or Rick. No, Rick would just be angry, which doesn't really make sense now that I think about it. Why does he get to hit me, insult me and beat me down, yet get so overly protective when I create a few pretty red lines on my skin? And why does he think he can just kiss my scars!? That's disgusting!
Why is this even happening? There was supposed to be one thing that I had to do tonight, one thing to think about, only one thing to complete, yet here I am, questioning my relationship with two out of three (four counting my mother, five counting him) of the people that make my life a living hell.
I wouldn't want anyone else to go through what I have (though I'm positive there are plenty who've fought through worse), but maybe someone with a brighter personality and a bigger smile could take it all better than I have. Why can't I brush it off, stand up and just smile for once. I tried it, pushing my lips up into a painful grin and barred my ever-so-slightly yellowed teeth to myself before snapping my mouth shut at the distant yelling coming from downstairs.
"No-! No, you can shut the hell up! You don't get to come over like this, Robert! You don't get to put your hands on me!" I heard my mother's voice shrill. "I can come home whenever I want. I have every right to touch my wife, right darling?" A deep voice slurred back. Disgusting pig.
Why is my father here? And is he drunk? Probably. Why does my mother even want him back? He has hit me, kicked me and has yelled at me as I cried for him to stop. Oh yeah, she sure made herself useful, by screaming her lungs out. I reminded myself yet again that, she, my own mother, did nothing to save her only son, her one child. She had recently just stared at me, while I was bleeding on our tiny entry way's floor. She turned a blind eye to my pain. So I turned my back to their argument, my satanic side not completely caring what happened to her. I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the loud slap that echoed through the house, followed by some much more aggressive yelling. I must have somehow fallen asleep to the sounds of curse words and insults because according to the clock on my nightstand, I woke up an hour and a half later to a door slamming. I sat up, hearing heavy foot steps coming up the stairs and my heart began to race. Who even left? Oh god, is that him? To my surprise, my mom appeared in my door way. She stared at me for a long time, and I noticed the hand shaped mark on her cheek and the tears that ran down her face. The half empty bottle of alcohol in my mother's hand was gripped tighter and her face scrunched up before she heaved her arm over her shoulder, ready to throw it. The sound of glass shattering on the wall behind me made me jump off my bed, staring at my mother in shock. I was covered in sharp glass shards and the horrible smelling liquid seeped through my shirt, instantly making me gag. "It's your fault... it's all your fault!" my mother yells at me. I flinched away, her speech was so slurred and her breath was absolutely terrible. She breathed heavily and her face contorted into an unflattering expression. "You were a mistake! You ruin everything, faggot!" She cried out before bursting into tears. My mother collapsed into a heap on my floor, sobbing loudly. I've been there, on the ground, bawling my eyes out, only I was in pain, she isn't. She doesn't know pain. So I turned a blind eye on her, sighing and walking past her to take a much needed shower.
I held my new, sharp, silver friend in my finger tips, the harsh force of the scolding hot water spewing from the shower head irritated my back but I liked the feeling. I tipped the blade a bit, allowing it to catch the light and a tiny smile danced on my lips at its sharpness. I've realized something about myself lately, and that is that I block out my emotion in the moment. Which I guess could be a good thing in some cases, you know, if you don't want to have a mental break down in public. But I just never feel anything until everything comes rushing in in a way that is always far too overwhelming. Like right now, when the realization seeped in that he has hit my mother. Did my father hurt her after that? And where did the alcohol come from? Why is this 'all my fault'? But more importantly; While my mother is crying in my door frame with a hand print on her cheek and an unknown amount of alcohol in her system, Why don't I care?
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Tah dah! I'm sorry if this wasn't the best follow up to the cliffhanger last chapter, but me and May tried our best :P I'm also so so sorry for how long this took, I'm going to make sure that never happens again :(
I also just want to say, I actually have a legitimate excuse for the wait this time; I've been working on my portfolio to get into a nearby art school, which is fucking nerve racking. So yeah, I've been pretty busy with that.... And also VERY excited.
But yeah! That's all :D
May the odds be ever in your favor, a goood byee!
~R