Harry's hands were on my skin, and my hands were tangled in his hair. I moved my hands down to the ends of his shirt and pulled it over his head. I could feel my size throbbing in my pants. I was about to unbuckle Harry's jeans when I head the door slam.
"What in the actual fuck is going on!"
Harry quickly got off of me, and I saw my father standing in the doorway of the living room. He had his keys in one hand and a cigarette in the other. His eyes were glazed over and red. His face turned into a dark shade of red and his neck veins popped out. I felt my heart drop down to my ass. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I'm gonna get a real fucking beating for this.
"I asked! What the fuck is going on!" My dad screamed. There was silence. Neither Harry nor I answered him. I was too scared too, and Haryr probably was as well.
"I'm gonna ask one fucking last time! What is going on!" My father yelled once more.
"Sir... I'm Louis' boyfriend Harry," Harry spoke his voice wavering a bit. I could tell he was definitely scared.
"Louis' boyfriend? You're- you- you're his boyfriend?" My dad harshly laughed.
"Y-yes s-sir," Harry stuttered.
"Get out of my fucking house boy!" My dad commanded.
"What?" Harry asked confused.
"Don't make me repeat myself again. I said get out of my fucking house!"
"But-"
"Get. Out. Now."
"Louis-" Harry began.
"Just go. I'll see you later," I said.
Harry looked back and forth between my dad and I unsure of what to do. Finally, he sighed and put his shirt back on. He walked over to me and was about to hug me, but saw my father's eyes pop out of his head. He decided against it and quickly walked out of my house. Now I'm alone with the beast. I wasn't even prepared for what was about to come.
"That was your fucking boyfriend?" My dad said in disgust.
"Yes."
"So you're fucking gay?" He made a disgusted face.
"Yeah I am," I replied.
"Wow," he took a drag of his cigarette. "You know every time you disappoint me I think to myself, there's no way you can disappoint me more. There is no possible way I will ever hate you more than I already do. But this. This just proved me wrong. You disappointed more today than any other day. And I hate you more than I did yesterday."
I stayed silent.
"Your mother never had anything against people like you," he spat. "But I do. You're disgusting. Stupid. Worthless. It should be a girl and a boy. A boy and a girl. Not a girl and girl. Not a guy and guy. You disgust me!"
Once again. I was silent.
"And you and that boy were about to fucking have sex on my couch! MY couch! Do you know how fucking gross that is? Well do you!" He yelled.
I didn't answer.
"Fucking answer me you piece of shit!" My father grabbed my hair and threw me against the wall. I slid down the wall in pain and groaned.
"I don't know," I whispered.
"You're a fucking faggot!" He kicked me in the stomach.
"I-" I started.
"Shut up!" He slapped me across the face.
Tears started forming in my eyes.
"You're a disgusting little faggot! I can't believe you've touched me before! I can't believe I never fucking noticed until now!" He kept kicking me.
The pain was unbearable.
"You're going to get what you deserve for being a little gay disgusting ass fuck up!" He began taking off his belt.
"Please. Don't," I whispered weakly.
"What? You won't be able to take it?" He laughed.
"Please," I said again.
"Please nothing!" He screamed and whipped me. I screamed in pain.
"I hate you! You're not my son! I'm not your dad anymore! You're worthless!" He kept whipping me. Each time harder than the last.
"You don't deserve to be alive! Fucking die you stupid fuck up! Fucking kill yourself! Gays shouldn't be in this fucking world!" He pulled me up then slammed my head into the wall. I could feel the blood from my back dripping down my body. I could also feel a painful gash in my head now.
"God hates you! Everybody fucking hates you! You think that boy is going to stay by you? Huh?" He took his keys and stuck them deep into my back and dragged it across my skin drawing blood.
"Y-yes," I answered weakly.
"You're so fucking naive," he laughed in my face.
"We're in love," I said.
"In love? You fucking know nothing about love!" He punched me in the stomach and kneed me in the crotch.
"I do. We're in love," I said as I wiped the blood off of my face from the cut on my head.
"No! You're not! He's going to end up leaving you! Everybody will! Once he realizes you're worthless and you mean nothing to him he's going to leave you! He's going to hate you like everybody else hates you!" He grabbed my legs and dragged me up the stairs.
"You're wrong," I replied.
"Oh you little naive son of a bitch. Just watch. He'll leave you. I'm right. I'm always right. Just watch," he spat in my face.
Once he was done dragging me up the stairs, he pulled me up by my hair. When I stood up, I tried to run to my bedroom, but the pain slowed me down. My father pulled me back by my shirt and slammed me against the wall.
"Don't fucking run away. I'll still catch you. You're weak. You're nothing. You were a mistake!" He pulled his fist back, a second later it was connected with my eye.
"I know."
"Good. You should know. You should realize that. And when you realize that I'm right about your little homo boyfriend leaving you, don't come crawling back asking for forgiveness or help. Because I won't help you," he spat.
He turned me around and grabbed my arms and twisted them. I screamed out in agony. What did I even do to deserve this? As I screamed, he kicked me and I fell down the stairs. My life flashed before my eyes, and I heard something crack. Once I hit the floor, I couldn't move anymore. Everything hurt. Everything was bleeding. My father came down the stairs and pulled my face up.
"Don't move. Oh wait. You can't," he chuckled then disappeared up the stairs.
I saw him go into my room. I waited. I just stared up at my room wondering when he would come out. After 10 minutes, I saw him drag a suitcase out of my room. He chucked the suitcase down the stairs and it landed just inches away from my face. The suitcase landed with a thud, and the top wasn't zipped up so clothes flew everywhere. My clothes.
"I'll give you 15 minutes. If you aren't out of my fucking house by then, I'll drag you out and leave you on the street to get run over by a car," he told me.
"Why are you doing this?" My question came out in a weak whisper.
"Because I hate you," he said and went into his room and slammed the door.
I stayed on the floor not moving for 5 minutes. The blood trickled down my face and into my mouth. I finally got up, but fell back down. It hurt. It hurt like a fucking bitch. I didn't want to move, but I had to. So I powered through the fucking pain and repacked my suitcase slowly and carefully. Once everything was packed up, I zipped up the suitcase and limped my way over to the door. My ribs hurt, my head was pounding, and I couldn't breathe properly. To make things worse, not all of my clothes were packed into my suitcase which meant I had to come back for the rest later.
I opened the front door, and turned around to look at my house one last time. Tears slipped down my face. I limped slowly out the door and shut it. The cold air hit my body and I shivered. My chest heaved up and down in pain as I limped. There was only one place where I could go right now that I could think of. It hurt to walk and breathe. I felt light headed, and I knew I was going to faint any second, but that just made me walk quicker even if it meant my body would ache more.
It took me half an hour to get to where I was going with my suitcase and my aching body. I knocked on the door of the house and waited. Less than a second later, I was met with a worried looking Harry. When he saw my busted up face and my suitcase his eyes widened.
"Lou," he whispered.
I just pulled him into a very tight hug and sobbed into his shoulder. I sobbed and bled. He held me tightly and cried along with me.
*****
Well now. Didn't that escalate quickly?
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