one more year to go Shawn and your away from dad. you're seventeen now. ah fuck it, i'm late for work. i mentally sigh an open the doors to Starbucks. "you're late." my boss told me with a grumpy face. yet i just stare at him as if i'm staring at a wall. "Mendes, if this goes on. you're fired." he explained, walking off leaving me stood dumbfounded and can careless. though, i can't be fired, at least not again. i walk behind the counter and start organising the long line.
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"come again soon." i told the old lady with a fake smile. a family caught my eyes, they were laughing and slurping on their drinks. i look down holding back my tears. i wish my life is as happy as that. but i guess there is a huge consequence of being gay. "hey um, i'd like to order please?" someone questioned and i looked up and gasped. it's him. shit, he's here right in front of me. "Shawn, you okay?" he asked me and i took a deep breath, i want to sugar coat my feeling but, no. "what do you want to order?" i ask him a sweetly as i can."
"Shawn i-" he started.
"alright then, one vanilla latte cold, medium coffee and grande sized coming right up." i interrupted him and he stood there hurt and sad. "i don't even like latte." he muttered, probably to himself but i heard him anyways.
"oh well too bad, you weren't going to shut up." i smirked at him. "that'll be seven dollars and forty one cents." he sighed and payed me obviously giving up to talk to me.
"i'll take it from here." one of the workers, Lira, said to me.
"SHAWN!" I heard a loud tell causing me to sleep on a banana peel, behind the counter. The person pulled me up and held my wrist tightly enough, i can feel the bloodstreams stopping. my vision was blurred by tears as i don't know what's going on. i got thrown to the bathroom and saw my dad. "you cunt! you ran away yesterday!" he growled and started punching me, hitting me, spitting on me, slapping me and all sorts of abuse. he walked out surely feeling proud. i stood up wobbling from side to side before i caught the wall and remained in one position. i stared at my broken face, blood coming out from my nose and the corner of my mouth, scratches everywhere the the tiniest bits of blood oozing out of it. i was sure as hell everyone heard us. leading to my boss which is disgusted and will fire me.
i walked out, head down and untie my apron. i gave it to my boss but he held my shoulder.
"Shawn? Why are you giving me this?" He asked me in a soothing deep voice.
"cause i'm fired." i sighed and turned my heels. "no Shawn! you're not fired, i just wanted to tell you to take a rest for today and tomorrow okay? don't come tomorrow just take a rest." he explained smiling at me.
i nodded and take my SnapBack and put it on. "there you are." someone said making me scream, using the only energy i had left. Taylor. "what do you want?" i winced. he sighed, "look um, come to my house?" he asked
"no!"
"please i won't kill you." he begged taking my hands into his. i look down at our hands staring at in awe. he gave me a sheepish smile before taking his hands away from mine, scratching the back of his head. ouch, i surprisingly liked it when he touched my hand "who the hell says they don't kill" i ask him trying to play it chill and all. he rolled his eye and pointed at himself. "well that's a bit wimpy isn't it?" i continued. this is a risk now. telling a bully that he's a wimp? actually, this whole time, i was taking a risk. "well if i'm not a killer, i can work with being a wimp." he answered me glumly. "okay." i gave in an went in his car.
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"coffee?"
i shook my head
"tea?"
i shook my head
"water?"
i shook my head
"juice?"
i shook my head.
"Shawn you must want something!" he groaned in frustration makings flinch. i shook my head. "i'm not really hungry." i respond quietly. "are you ever at least?" he asked me.
"um.."
"honest answer please."
"no."
"do you vomit after you eat."
"yes." i answered, biting my lip.
he walked of and came back with a book. "you have bulimia, don't you."
"is that eating disorder?"
"yes."
"in that case i do." i sighed pulling my legs to my chest and crying on them. i can't, i can't hold my tears anymore i just can't keep them anymore, so i'll let them go free. "Shawn, what time does your dad comes home?" he asked me with a concerned face. "9." i sniffled. "give me your address."