All future story updates can be found here:
Hey y’all. So I figured I’d use a centralized thread for all the short stories I post. The themes are pretty dark, so it’s probably a bit NSFW, so I labelled the thread accordingly, just to be safe. I’ve done most of the editing myself, so it’s not going to be perfect. Please don’t nit pick on that kind of stuff ;) but any commentary is welcomed and encouraged.
Confessions From A Rooftop (Completed)
A Life So Hard
Perception of Love (Completed)
The Diary (Completed)
Four Letter Words – Premise: A collection of stand-alone stories based on a four letter long theme word. These stories are published in no particular order.
The Hunter (series)
Humanitarian Aid (series)
One Year (series)
Different World (series)
One Night (series)
Lucas’s List (series)
Parallel Love (series)
Dream State (series)
Day of Silence (short)
Peeling Back The Layers (short)
Confessions from A Rooftop – Chapter 1
Seeing the blue and red flashing below me made me nauseated; the whole situation made me nauseated. I stood on the ledge and watched the gathering of police cars below me. There must have been five or six of them here now; all for me. I watched as they started to block off the road. A crowd began to gather.
“Do not jump.” I heard a voice boomed from below me, using a megaphone.
I wasn’t really sure if I was supposed to respond, whether I was supposed to shout below to them or anything, so I kept quiet. I missed the lesson in school where they dealt with the proper etiquette in this kind of situation. Oh, I suppose it’s important to mention that this was about four in the morning on a Wednesday. I lived in New York City, the ‘city that never sleeps’, so there was still a sizable crowd gathered. A strange-looking truck arrived with a giant spotlight on the back. The light quickly switched on and started moving its way up the wall of my apartment building until it reached the top, where I was.
Even though I watched it creep up closer and closer, nothing could have prepared me for the blinding brightness of the white light. In shock, I jerked my arms up to cover my eyes. The quick reaction caused my weight to shift too rapidly and I lost my balance. I shuffled my feet back and forth to desperately catch my footing, but it was a futile effort. I felt myself begin to lean over, more and more as I desperately tried to stay standing. My efforts were in vain though, and I fell.
With a painful crunch, I fell back and landed on the gravel roof of the building. Groaning, I slowly picked myself back up. With the light still focused on where I was just a second ago, I stepped back onto the raised ledge.
“Are you okay?” The voice from below boomed.
What the hell was I supposed to do? Yell back? Well..it didn’t hurt, I suppose.
“No!” I yelled down, trying to be as loud as I could.
“Someone is on their way.” The voice informed me flatly. I wasn’t really sure if they were asking me or telling me.
I had my answer soon enough when I heard the rooftop access door creak open. I turned around so quickly to see where the noise came from that I nearly lost my footing. An older man and a younger woman moved cautiously onto the roof. They walked slowly towards me, with their arms in clear view, trying not to make any sudden moves.
“My name is Bob.” The old man said, “and this is my friend and partner, Vanessa. Do you know who we are?”
At that moment, I decided that I didn’t want to talk to them and wasn’t going to talk to them. He seemed condescending and I wasn’t interested. I was suicidal, not stupid. I stood there and stared at him, hoping to indicate that I wasn’t interested in talking.
“We’re social workers.” He explained in a tone normally reserved for children. “Is it okay if we talk to you for a bit? Maybe about why you’re here?” He asked me, hesitation thick in his voice.
I looked at him, then back to her. He was old, probably in his late fifties, but she was young, no older then 25 or 26. He was being condescending, talking to me like a child, so I didn’t like him. She seemed different, down to earth.
“I don’t want to talk to you.” I said, with venom in my voice. “You’re a week away from retirement and you don’t give a damn about me.” I was looking right into his eyes when I said that.
“I’ll talk to you, though.” I said, gesturing towards Vanessa’s.
I could see the hurt in his eyes as he stepped back, but I didn’t care. Normally, I’m a super nice, super kind kid who was conscious of everyone’s feelings, who just wanted everyone to be happy. Maybe it was the result of the last few years or the current situation, but I found myself not caring about the old man’s feelings. But even though I felt better about talking to Vanessa, I found myself unable to look her in the face.
I looked down at my feet as I slowly turned 180 degrees to face away from the ledge.
“Hi” I mumbled. I heard the door open and slam shut again, as the old man left.
“Hi.” She returned my greeting.
“Maybe it’d help if I told you a bit about myself first.” She had a British accent that I found interesting. She paused to wait for my response, then continued. “I’m sure you’ve already noticed my accent, most people ask about it.”
Even though she couldn’t see me, I couldn’t help but let out a little smile at that. I wouldn’t be able to tell you why, though.
“I’m a Londoner by birth but moved here when I was a little girl.” She continued. “I went to school for social work to help people just like you…” She trailed off, possibly hoping for me to say my name. No dice.
I stood there for a moment. Absorbing my surroundings and thinking about what she just said. She’s a social worker. I’m standing on the edge of a roof. The reality of the situation finally hit me, and a sob made its heard past my defenses.
She must have heard it, because she continued softly: “Oh sweetie. You’re so hurt, I can see it just by looking at you. Share your pain with me.”
I stifled another sob while still deciding what to do and what to say or not say. Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “It’s my father!”
“What about your father? Does he hurt you?” Vanessa asked me, trying to be as calm as possible.
I only nodded in answer to her question. My throat was knotted up and if I tried to speak I would have lost control of myself. But, as I nodded, I answered the question, finally admitting the truth after all these years.
“Does…” Vanessa started asking me a question, but hesitated. I guess she was afraid to ask the question because she was afraid of the answer she’d get. “Does he touch you?”
I flinched when she asked that question and my whole body shook. I regained my balance and thought about what she just asked me. I really needed to think about how I was going to respond.
Several minutes went by as I pondered my response. Finally, I just gave her a shrug. Although he did, I decided that it wasn’t that bad or a big deal, so it didn’t really matter.
“Look, I know it’s really hard to talk about all this stuff, but it’s for your own good. Look at you, look at where you are. Something’s gone terribly wrong in your life to cause you to be here right now. Now, I don’t know what it is, because you won’t talk about it. But I promise that no matter what, I’ll help you figure it all out.”
Her words were touching and hit me hard. In an instant, like a flash of lightning, I knew what I had to do. I slowly turned to face Vanessa again. With a blank face I opened my mouth and began to speak to her for the first time.
“Hi. My name is Markus.” I told her in a flat voice. “I live in apartment #502 in this building. My high school is three blocks east of here. My mother died giving birth to me, so it’s only my father and me. I have a few friends at school, but I don’t see them outside of school because I make sure they never see our apartment.”
“We have a nice apartment with 2 bedrooms. I have a room to myself, but the door’s been removed and I have no furniture. All I have is a mattress on the floor and a ratty old blanket. I can’t eat without father’s approval because all the cabinets have locks on them, except what he leaves out for me to cook. He has a drinking problem and sometimes will hit me. His favorite is using his belt with the big buckle. When he hits me, he calls me a little faggot and a fairy.”
I paused for a moment. I breathed in deeply, taking stock of what I had just admitted for the first time. I looked up and admired the stars. They were so beautiful and their existence was so simple.
With a sigh, I continued, “What he doesn’t know is that he’s right. There’s a senior at my school that I have a crush on. He’s tall, well dressed and very nice. He seems like a great guy. I know he’s far too good for me, but I can’t stop myself from wanting him.”
“Tonight was the night I was going to talk to my father, to tell him the truth. He came home after 10 PM, which is usually a bad sign. He works in construction, so sometimes he stays late, but it’s really rare. Usually if he’s not home by six, he’s gone drinking. It must have been a harder day then usual because he came home more drunk than usual. As soon as he opened the door he reached for his belt because I didn’t have supper cooked and waiting for him, hot on the table.”
“I knew talking to him was a bad idea. So I waited until he passed out and came up here. I was here for over an hour before someone noticed and called the police. I’ve just been thinking that if I can’t talk to my own father, my own flesh and blood, about things that are so important to me, then it’s kind of pointless. I spent all this time up here thinking and trying to decide what to do, but you’ve helped me make up my mind. I know what I’m going to do now.”
I finished saying what I had to say and looked at her for the first time since pouring out my soul to her. My eyes were still wet, but there would be no more tears.
“Markus!” She said, as she rushed to me, “I’m so sorry those things happened to you.” She told me, but I wasn’t listening anymore. With a small smile, I closed my eyes and followed through with my decision.
Awww, c’mon! I wanna know what happened!
What a deus ex machina ending I need to learn my plot devices :3 It is really well written though, I wish I could write that good. It would be cool to have an after story as well.
edit @ Galdos… wut.
I wrote this as part of a contest. The theme was “Aftermath”.
Originally posted by Oboe_Passion:
Awww, c’mon! I wanna know what happened!
You’re supposed to use your imagination! :D
Originally posted by uzzbuzz:
What a deus ex machina ending I need to learn my plot devices :3 It is really well written though, I wish I could write that good. It would be cool to have an after story as well.
Thank-you, very, very much. :D
One of the reviews that someone left was actually a sequel. It was an interesting idea, so I might ask their permission and run with it.
Originally posted by Galdos:
could you please write a story of a human man and a muscular bull-man (like a minotaur)
but make it very sexual please ;)
Originally posted by uzzbuzz:
Well, did you win? :P
But I was nominated for one of the yearly awards. I didn’t win that, either. :(
Originally posted by Galdos:
y not? T.T
2. I don’t take requests.
Russian Roulette – Epilogue
James was at the local hospital, a small building. He was staying in the long-term care unit on the first floor, quite easy to climb in through his window at three in the morning. The window opened silently. I steadied myself and climbed in, falling onto the floor of his private room with a thud.
He woke up, “Who’s there?” he asked the darkness. I could hear a little bit of fear in his voice. He didn’t know who was there or what their intentions were, especially at this hour.
I stood up and brushed myself off, straightening my shirt. I put my hand over my back pocket to make sure it was still there. “Oh, good. My present didn’t fall out.”
“Who is it? What present? Ma.. Matthew, is that you? What are you doing here? James asked, recognizing my voice, with that realization, his voice rising to a fever pitch by the time he was done asking me why I was in his hospital room.
With enough confidence to put anyone into shock, I walked up to his bed. I turned on the lamp beside him, so he could see my face. The light blinded us both; he turned away while his eyes adjusted, but I kept focus on him with a look of sheer determination on my face.
“Matthew, I thought we agreed it’d be for the best if you stayed away.” James said, looking at me again. His eyes were pleading, like he knew what was coming. He had no idea, though.
“Do you know why you’re here right now? Why you’re in that hospital bed? Why your back is broken and you’re paralyzed from the neck down? Do you know why? Karma. That’s why. Karma did this to you.” My voice was solid, unwavering; I was confident in what I was doing.
I was looking him in the eyes, making sure to never break contact. I wanted to see the expression on his face when he saw it. I pulled the .357 Magnum Revolver out of my jeans and pressed the barrel against the side of my head. “I put one bullet in here. I don’t know what chamber it’s in. Let’s find out, shall we?”
“This is for me,” I explained. “For believing everything you told me. For believing that you actually cared about me, that you actually loved me.”
My fingers gripped the trigger, ready to pull it. I closed my eyes and pulled back on the trigger. There was a click as the barrel moved.
I opened my eyes and looked at James. There was a look of sheer terror plastered on his face. “I guess it wasn’t meant for me, not this time.” I explained. “It’s your turn now.”
Leaning in closer to him, I moved the gun up to his face and pressed the barrel against his cheek. His eyes pleaded with me, conveying the emotions that he couldn’t. “Ple.. Please don’t do this, Matthew. Please don’t do this. I said I was sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, please don’t.” James tried to reason with me. Tears started forming in his eyes as he began to realize that he might die. Within the next few minutes he might be dead. Gone. No more life, no waking up tomorrow. No more living.
“This is for you.” I told him, sternly and without emotion. Truthfully, my insides were swimming. I was bursting with emotions, of revenge… happiness, even. But I didn’t want him to know that. I leaned in closer again. “You lied to me. You never had any intentions of dating me. I bet you never even liked me, did you? You just saw a quiet, vulnerable boy and you decided to mess with his head. To have some fun. Why? To satisfy your boredom? Or do you just have a need to destroy other people’s lives?”
My finger slowly slid off the grip and moved to the trigger. James eyes widened in disbelief. I don’t think reality had set in and he really had the barrel of a gun pressed into the side of his face. “Karma put you here, so let’s see what else karma has in store for you.” My finger gripped the trigger and squeezed.
The look on his face was of pure relief. A ten thousand pound weight was instantly lifted off his shoulders. You could see it, all of a sudden the tension in his body disappeared and he was shaking. His face glistened with a layer of sweat. “Oh.. thank God.” He whispered. “Thank-you.”
I was getting a little anxious. I realized what I was doing, and was beginning to doubt myself a bit. The reality of my actions were sinking in for me. My mind began to race in turmoil as I tried to decide what to do; I was torn. I began to pace as I thought about all the things that James did to me; how he treated me. “Matthew, you can do this. Matthew, you need to do this,” I mumbled, reassuring myself.
“Matthew, what did you say?” James asked. “If you’re having second thoughts, it’s okay. Walk away, you can. I promise that I won’t say anything. I’ll pretend this never happened.” James told me, begging, to try and make this unpleasant situation end.
“What did I say?” I responded. “I just said that it’s my turn next.”
I defiantly positioned the barrel of my gun against my temple. James closed his eyes when he saw what I was doing. Maybe in disbelief, or shock. I’m really not sure.
“I shouldn’t have had anything to do with you, you know?” I said, pacing the hospital floor. "I knew that, too. Deep down, in my heart, I knew you were bad news. But, what can I say. You were easy on the eyes, and the wrong head was doing the thinking. You took something special from me. You took something that I’ll never get back. You took something from me that I wanted to be special, and it wasn’t. I’ll never forgive you for that, but more importantly… I’ll never forgive myself for that. As much as you manipulated me, I let you do it. That, I can never forgive myself for.”
I gripped the handle tightly, my hands starting to sweat. With a small tremble in my hands, and the barrel still pressed against my temple, I pulled the trigger.
I lowered the gun and turned away from him.
“Please don’t do this. You’ve made your point. I’m sorry.” James begged me, again.
“No!” I yelled. He flinched.
“No, I haven’t.” I said again, quieter.
I kicked off my shoes and crawled onto James’s bed. I crawled up to him and positioned myself so that I was sitting on him. I could feel my weight sinking into his chest. I leaned in once again and brought my mouth close to his.
“I lost three teeth, you know,” I told him. “The swelling around my eye has mostly gone down, you can’t see it in this lighting. So many belt buckles.” I continued to tell James, with him having no idea what I was talking about, his look of confusion obvious.
“Want to know where I got this gun?” I asked him. “My old man bought it. Why did he buy it, you might be wondering? He told me. He said he was going to use it on me.”
There was a flicker in James’s eyes.
“He was going to use it on me, because he said he could no longer stand having a faggot living under his roof. He legally can’t kick me out, so he’d take me out. Make it look like an accident, a suicide, said he knew how to. So many months of having me living there, it was digging at him. Crawling under his skin, bothering him. My very existence disturbs him, so he’s going to kill me.”
“I…” was all James could manage to say, as a single tear rolled down his cheek.
“I… Yes, exactly. That’s on you. I told you. I warned you. I begged you. But you did it anyways. You outed me to everyone, and he found out.” I told him, trying to contain the rage in my voice, with a slight quiver.
I pressed the gun against his head. He was shaking again and he was actually crying now. As my hand gripped the trigger, he mouthed out the words “I’m sorry.”
Again, nothing happened.
Before he could react, I jumped off the bed and moved into the shadows. He quietly sobbed for a minute, as I collected my thoughts and put my shoes back on.
“There’s only 2 left. This 1 is for me, the last is for you, if…” I trailed off.
There was silence for another few minutes, as the gravity of the situation weighed down heavily on us both.
“My sin. The reason the barrel of this gun is pressed against my head… it weights deeply on me. It’s probably the worst thing that I could have done to myself. It’s too painful for me to look at you and explain to you why this gun is pointed at my head. So, just trust me with what I am telling you.” I explained.
“My fault is that I fell in love with you. I promised myself that I never would, that I was better off without that bullshit. That love was bullshit and I was better off alone. I didn’t need anyone, I convinced myself. But, no. You had to come along and destroy that. You’ve ruined me, I can’t go back. There is no going back. Worst of all, with all the things you did to me, I still loved you. You outed me, and I told myself it was because you thought it was for the best. That you loved me back, and cared for me. We both know that isn’t true, though. My sin is falling for you when I told myself I wouldn’t.”
Click, the sound echoed through the otherwise silent room.
I stepped out of the shadows and shrugged at James. “There’s only one more, and it’s your turn. I’ll keep this short, for your sake.”
He wasn’t saying anything. He was just lying there, quietly crying and staring at me. I guessed only about ten minutes had passed since I climbed through that window, but it had been such an emotional ten minutes. I think that James had reflected on what he had done to me, and came to the realization that he deserved death. Maybe he was at peace with it, the inevitable conclusion.
I stepped over to his bed. I didn’t kneel down or move close to him, in any way, shape or form. I stood beside the bed, towering over him. I put the barrel of the gun in his mouth, so he couldn’t talk. He wasn’t talking anyways, but I wanted to make sure. Tears quietly continued to stream down his face as he closed his eyes. He was bracing himself, to die.
“You took my love, my trust, for you… and used it to your advantage,” I snapped. "You cheated on me more times than I can count, and that’s only the times I caught you. Jessy, Daniel, Brandon, Jessica, Nathan. I forgave you every single time. Every time was the last time and every time you were so sorry. Promises that it would never happen again, and that you were changed and better. You took an innocent, quiet little boy… used and abused him, destroyed him, and then walked away. For that, you deserve what’s in this last chamber.”
I pulled the trigger, and nothing happened.
James opened his eyes, in shock. “I… I thought…?” He asked me, confused.
“You thought there were bullet in the last chamber and you were going to die? It’s simple really, there never was any bullets.” I explained.
“But, why?” He asked me, in shock.
“You never would have thought about your actions the way you did, unless you thought you might die.” I told him, as I slowly walked to the, still open, window. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson.” I said, as I disappeared out the window and back into the night.
My favourite review left for this short story:
It’s disturbing and does a good job at that. A nightmare for both. Well written I thought.
Those are the only two I’ve written so far. I plan to write a prelude to Russian Roulette. It’ll probably end up being 2 or 3 chapters long, just so I can get into a nice bit of detail regarding each point mentioned. Of course, anything I write in the future I’ll post here as soon as I’m done. :D
… How exactly is this NSFW?
Originally posted by MaistlinRajere:
… How exactly is this NSFW?
It’s just to make him sound hardcore/badass.
It’s just in case, but the themes are a little taboo.
Yeah, I don’t think this can really be called NSFW, because usually that is used when there is a link to an image that could be questionable as someone walks by at a workplace. If you were reading this, no one would really know that it’s NSFW.
There are Kongregate avatars that are more NSFW than this.
““Someone is on their way.” The voice informed me flatly. I wasn’t really sure if they were asking me or telling me.”
I don’t like this line.
And I didn’t know it was supposed to be ambiguous. It seemed pretty obvious to me that he jumped.
Confessions From A Rooftop – Chapter 2
I’m the king of lying to myself. I had no idea what I’m was going to do. I had made no decision, I just told myself I had. The uncertainty was way too much, so I lied to myself. A lot of good that did me, too. Two years bouncing around foster care homes. The longest I stayed in one was for a half year. A whole six months in one, nice, stable home.
That was the first home I went to, I think Vanessa put me there specially. They were a nice family, a husband and wife that couldn’t have kids. They told me that they didn’t like babies anyways, so they didn’t mind that I was 15. “We get to skip all the diapers and temper tantrums” they told me, “So how can that be a bad thing?”
The couple knew everything about what happened, my past. They assured me that they were as open-minded as they came, so they didn’t care about my sexuality. They even said that I should ask out that senior I had a crush on. Boy was that a mistake, but I’ll get to that later.
Vanessa stayed in my life for a while. At first, she’d visit every week. Then, every other week. She eventually only came once a month, that happened twice, towards the end of my stay. I got a call one day from her, “I’m sorry, sweetie. You’ve been doing so well, overall, and I’m so proud of you! Your case is very special and some people noticed your remarkable progress in the last few months. I’m … I’ve been promoted and I’m moving away.”
I was stunned. I couldn’t even reply.
“Sweetie, you’ll be fine. Everything will be alright. You’re a strong young man and you’ll be just fine.”
I was assigned a new case worker and their first order of business was to find me a new place to live. Jerry, the husband, had received an amazing job opportunity and they were taking it. Unfortunately, it was in Dallas. They asked me to go, but I refused. I’ve lived in New York City my entire life, and as much as a horrible place it has been to me. It was my horrible place, it was home. So, I stayed and they left. I saw them off at the airport, I cried.
My new case worker sucked, and the places he put me in were even worse. I don’t pretend to understand how the system works, because Vanessa was, at first, able to spend so much time with me and on me, and this new guy, Walter, barely acknowledged my existence. I swear, he had a list of foster homes and ran down the list, calling each one, and the first one to say yes took me.
It was a run-down bungalow with a lawn that hadn’t been mowed in months. At least it was within walking distance to my hell of a high school, I reassured myself. It was a single, old man that lived at the house. I know what you’re thinking, but no, that didn’t happen. What did happen was that he made me his slave, effectively.
“I hear your old man tried to beat the fag out of you.” He sneered at me, as we sat down to the dinner I had cooked, that first day. “Well, ain’t none of that happenin’ here. That’s why the last kid was took’d from me, and then I had to take care of this here house myself. We see how that turned out.” He sneered at me. His smile had more teeth missing then present.
He didn’t hit me if I didn’t do as I was told, but he didn’t have to. If I misbehaved, my clothes would ‘accidentally’ get thrown out, or be buried in a pile of dirt. He’d forget that he had to go grocery shopping, so there’d be nothing for me to eat. Sometimes for two or three days.
School was rough, too. It wasn’t so bad when I was at my first foster home, since the couple were so nice to me. It made the situation bearable. They felt especially guilty, since it was essentially their fault I was being beat up and harassed at school. The guy I liked wasn’t gay. At all. He was apparently super religious and hated gays with a passion. He said I propositioned him in the bathroom and the rumor spread like wild fire. It quickly morphed into me being a whore, begging for money from him.
In class, people would pass me notes, asking what my rates were, or just flat out giving me $20 dollar bills, with a time and place for them to ‘meat’ me.
After a while, the old man got sick, cancer or Alzheimer’s or something. Whatever, either way, I had to leave.
The other homes weren’t anything better. By the time I was 17, now, I had been in at least a half dozen more homes. Most just psychologically and emotionally tortured me and a few physically. The physical abuse wasn’t as common as people seem to think. But it definitely did happen.
Almost all the foster homes I stayed in were in apartments, which I found to be the only thing that kept me sane. I like roofs. I don’t know what it is about them, I just enjoy being on them. Maybe it’s the height, or the fresh air, the wind… I don’t know. It’s just the only time I feel relaxed and myself.
I have been sitting on the roof floor, cross legged for the last two or three hours, reflecting on my life. Wondering how I got here and how things were so messed up and when they would get better, or if things getting better would even be possible. I thought back to all those times I had been raped, both in school and out. Always by my fellow classmates. They justified it in their mind by showing a $20 or sometimes a $50 over my used body, as I lay on the ground. I may have been begging them to stop and I may be bleeding now, but they paid me, so it wasn’t rape, right?
I woke up this morning and decided it had to stop. To further hammer that point home, during school I had to give 4 blowjobs and I was raped again at lunch. As soon as the bell rang, I jumped up and ran out of school to the pawn shop I had decided on this morning. Running hurt, a lot, but I was determined, so I phased out the pain.
Those assholes wouldn’t know what hit them. I had been saving most of the money they gave me and was going to buy retaliation. Okay, maybe not most, but some. I may or may not have bought some pills a few times, when the pain was really bad. I never developed an addiction, because the numbness and dulling of my life scared me. But sometimes it was exactly what I needed. But I had $300 in my pocket and I was going to put it to use.
The pawn shop I went to wasn’t exactly… legal. They sold pretty much anything you needed, for a price. Anything. I bought a knife. It wasn’t that big, but the extreme illegality of the purchase cost me all my money and then some. My reputation had spread across the neighborhood and the employee needed a little extra motivation to process the purchase.
Here I was, sitting on a roof top, of the building where my current abuser lives, holding a knife. I wasn’t going to use it on my current foster abuser, they weren’t worth it. He was just a druggy that used the foster money he got to buy more drugs. Sure he hit me sometimes, but the heroin will get him just the same.
No, I had another target in mind. Sam Manning. That sick son of a bitch has caused more suffering in my life, at school, than any other person in my life, including my father. I started shaking at the thought of him. I knew exactly where he lived, too. The dumbass brought me back to his house a few times, even made me crawl out the window so his bible thumping mother wouldn’t see me.
I didn’t have a watch, but there were billboards everywhere. The time said 10:47.
“Perfect.” I smiled.
Sam’s housing subdivision wasn’t too far from here, I’d be there a little after 11. He’d be awake but his parents shouldn’t be, by that time. As I got up, my legs were numb, from sitting for so long without moving. I walked it off then headed down to the street.
I had the knife tucked into the back of my jeans, under my shirt. I didn’t want to rouse suspicion after all, right? I absentmindedly walked down the street, since it was pretty much a straight stretch to good ‘ol Sam’s house. I wasn’t really paying attention to anything in particular, until I noticed something out of the corner of my eye.
It was a woman of the night. They were everywhere, and women, so I never really paid attention to them. But this one was different. I could have sworn it was Vanessa standing there, in the knee high leather boots, skimpy short shorts and loose fitting shirt with no bra underneath. It wasn’t Vanessa, but she was about the same age and was definitely very similar in appearance.
I was on autopilot, not really aware or in control of my actions. “Come on.” I said to her, as I walked into the alley. She followed me, smiling. As I disappeared into the darkness, my hand reached behind, to my back.
It was no more than 5 minutes later that I walked back onto the street. I was in a daze, shocked at what I had just done. I stood there, in the middle of the sidewalk, in a surreal moment in time. It felt like a bubble, that time didn’t matter. I looked down and saw the deep red blood stains all over my shirt. I looked at the knife, dripping with blood. It was pooling on the sidewalk beside me.
Just like that, I snapped back into reality. “Hey!” I heard yelling, maybe directed towards me. “Drop that. Put your hands up!”
Definitely directed towards me. I looked to my left and saw nothing. I looked to my right and saw a cop running towards me, gun out and pointed right at me. “Oh shit!” I yelled and took off.
I ran, not really planning where I was going. Doors flashed by me as I ran as fast as I could, away. No real direction, no destination in mind, just away. “This won’t work.” I told myself, and reached for the first door I saw.
It was an unlocked apartment building door. I quickly started running up the flights of stairs. There was still no plan formulated in my mind. I didn’t know what I was doing or where I was going. Up the stairs I went. Soon enough I heard someone else running up the stairs behind me, the cop. I hadn’t lost him and he was still coming after me. “Shit.” I muttered as I started to double time it up the stairs, somehow going faster than before, faster than I thought possible.
You know how in action movies, someone will dramatically burst through a door and go flying like 7 feet? I never thought that was actually realistic, but apparently it is. I flew through that door and it took me a few steps to get my grounding again.
I quickly looked around, desperately, trying to find somewhere to hide. Nothing. Nowhere. The door opened and it was just me and the cop.
“Drop the knife!” He yelled at me as he slowly stepped closer to me. His gun was still pointed at me, right at my face.
I didn’t know what to do. I could drop my knife and get arrested for murder or I could try to make a run for it and get shot and probably die. Unlike last time I was faced with a life or death situation, I knew I had no idea what I was going to do. I wasn’t going to lie to myself and pretend I had the situation under control. It wasn’t under control. Quite the opposite, the situation was so wildly out of control it was ridiculous.
Once again, just by instinct, I closed my eyes. With a deep breath, I disconnected my mind and let my body go into autopilot for me. My mind couldn’t make this decision for me, so I was going to let my body make it.
I have to admit I admire your inspiring writing style. This is great.
A Life So Hard - Chapter 1
My life has been hard. Sure, everyone has stuff happen in their lives, it’s impossible to escape. To have had a perfect, happy life goes against some unwritten rule of life; it just doesn’t happen. Ever. Frankly, I think it would be a pretty boring life, too. Sure, some people get lucky and only need to worry about which kind of car their daddy will spring for them for their sweet sixteen. Their biggest worry is when they wake up in the morning and wonder who they’ll date this week. Decisions, decisions. It’s tragic, really. Truly a rough existence to have to boldly endure.
Okay, I didn’t mean to sound bitter or jaded, or something. As a general rule, I don’t like rich people. They tend to be arrogant, self-absorbed and snobby. I do concede that there is the odd exception, though. Sadly, such privileged and kind people are few and far between. In my lifetime, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting, and falling in love with one such individual, but I’ll get to that later.
Unfortunately, the type of people that aren’t few and far between are the “average” and “below-average” people, and sadly it leans more towards the latter.
Don’t get me wrong or anything, I’ve never gone a day without food, or had second-hand clothing. My … “family” has always done okay in the financial and materialistic sense. While I’ve never had to do without, my emotional development has... suffered.
I don’t like talking about myself or what’s happened to me in my life. I consider anything more then a casual salutations personal, and I just don’t humor people. Ever. The select few around me either got used to it or they didn’t. Makes no difference to me, I stopped caring a long time ago.
I’d almost trade places with the super rich or the super poor. At least their problems were tangible, as superficial as they may be. Superficial, stereotypical, but tangible, accepted and known by society, expected. Expected and can be dealt with, addressed, fixed. Me? No. Nothing about me is tangible. Nothing about me is expected. Definitely nothing about me can be fixed. Anyways, I can’t believe I just said all of that. I’m going to just stop now. Okay, all I’m going to say is that I’m beyond redemption, beyond help and I’m okay with that, so I’ve stopped trying, hoping.
Anyways, enough of the sappy, “deep” crap. You’re probably wondering about shit that actually matters. Well, I’m currently sitting on a plane beside my dad, who has the aisle seat. On the other side of me is a man that definitely should of gotten two seats, if you know what I mean. A long, boring flight, stuck talking to my dad about a shitty summer that I just want to block out and never have to think about again. I wasn’t even able to look out the window because I couldn’t even see it. I tried to sleep as much as I could, since I was giving my dad non-answers and avoiding talking about my summer as much as possible was very unpleasant. We’d finally landed and had begun taxiing into LAX!
Okay, okay. Whoa. I used an exclamation point. Yeah, I got excited about something, but don’t get used to it. Mark this day down on your calendar, as it will be a rare moment for both you and me.
We finally pulled up to the gate and were advised by our shitty flight attendants that we could get up and get off this god damned plane. I hate flying, and medically shouldn’t really be doing it, but they made it so much worse. They barely got off their ass to do anything. Their introduction, about safety and all that, was so crappy and unmotivated, it almost made me wish something actually did happen. Plus, they didn’t even give us the first snack until like 4 hours into the flight. Complete and utter bullshit, and I’m so glad it’s over with. I wouldn't willingly step onto a plane again for a very long time.
“Ugghh!” My dad groaned, stretching. “One hell of a flight, sucks having to do it twice now, especially since I had to come back to do it again.”
I snorted, “I barely survived. I do not know how you managed.”
“It was exceptionally bad, since I had something digging into my leg.” He said, giving me a weird look, a gleam in his eye.
I couldn’t help but cock an eyebrow. He said he’d change and he was definitely putting in a serious effort. But we have been at 35,000 ft for the past god only knows how long, and the lack of air could have gotten to him; we’ll have to wait and see. I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of trick he’d pull, now that we’re down to Earth, so to speak.
“Yeah, I had this,” he explained, stopping to dig through his jean pocket, “digging into my leg.” He was holding a car key.
I excitedly snatched it from his hands. “No freakin’ way!” I exclaimed, in an uncharacteristic outburst. “Well, that’s pretty cool.” I added, clearing my throat and calming down.
Dad, laughing, and ruffled my hair. He made his way off of the plane and I followed close behind. Just before I stepped off, I gave the head flight attendant the dirtiest look I could summon, and wished that looks could kill. Our quest to re-enter the outside world had begun. This time, though, when I entered it, I could be across the continent and in a foreign country. Customs was more intimidating then I’m willing to admit; since this was my first time in America, and I was moving here, they seemed to give me a little bit more attention than the average passenger. I had to go alone, since I was deemed to be “of age” (whatever the hell that means) and I was talking to the armed customs officer for a good ten minutes before he released me with a warm welcome.
I must admit, though. When I told the armed customers officer named Devin that I had moved here, to suburbs outside of Los Angeles, it gave me a really weird feeling. I kinda tingled inside, and I’m not quite sure why. Surely it couldn't be the feeling of happiness?
We proceeded through the twisted corridors of the Los Angeles International Airport, which quite frankly, is incredibly, ridiculously confusing. Even my dad, who’s been here more than once, found everything hard to find. We finally managed to find the luggage carousel and collected our belongings. Dad only had one bag, since he was only back for a few days. Most of my stuff was being shipped, but I still brought as much clothing as I could (we don’t know how long my stuff will take to get here, if anything will be missing, and something could happen to it all) so I had, like, four bags.
We found one of those carts and loaded all our stuff on it. We talked to the airport employee that was sitting at the desk about animal cargo. The guy seemed irritated that we disturbed him, but he pointed us to a side door which was off the main luggage room. We walked in there and dad went to the counter. He showed the person his flight ticket and claim ticket and they disappeared into a back room. They were gone for a few minutes, and every second they weren't here, I could feel myself getting more tense. Finally, after an eternity they came back with a smallish green cat carrier. “Rain!” I yelled, and grabbed the carrier. My baby was asleep inside, but woke up at the disturbance and gave me a small meow.
I smiled at that, because I knew it was his way of saying “Hi”. Rain, a cat I found a few years ago was probably the only source of happiness in my life. I loved this cat so damn much, it’s ridiculous. He sleeps on my bed every night, without exception. Sometime he’ll be right up by my head, sometimes he’s at my feet. But he’s always with me. He keeps me sane.
With all our luggage and my cat successfully reclaimed, we made our way through the exit doors and into the outside world. As I stepped out of the airport into the California air, the glare from the sun temporarily blinded me. Once I’d adjusted, I began to take in my surroundings and found myself slightly... disappointed. We were standing beside a long strip of road. Tons of people were all around us (which made me highly uncomfortable) and they were loading their crap into cars or taxis. Taxis were everywhere, you couldn’t throw a stone without hitting a taxi. Past all of that, there was a massive parking lot. It stretched for a ridiculously long length, it was easily a 10 minute walk to the far end. Scattered around on seemingly random poles were signs that were letters of the alphabet, so you didn’t lose your car.
“We’re over in D” dad pointed to the pole and we began our journey to my new car. After several grueling minutes, we arrived in front of my new car. “Holy shit!” I yelled. Sitting front of me was a brand new, 2011 Dodge Charger. “This thing is beautiful.” I squealed in excitement. I walked around the bright orange car. It was beautiful. I did a full walk around the car, admiring it’s beauty, it’s perfection.
We loaded all our luggage into the trunk and I put Rain in the backseat. I opened the door and sat down in the drivers seat, dad was already sitting in the passenger seat. I took the keys and nervously turned the car on. I smiled as the engine roared to life. I watched as dad opened the glove box and pulled out a GPS. He inputted an address, our new home I assume, and suction cupped the device to the windshield. I tore out of the parking lot following the GPS directions.
After about a half hour drive, we finally arrived at our new home. Well, dad’s obviously been there before, since he’s been living here for the past 2 months or so. It was my first time seeing it, and man was the house beautiful. It was a two story brick house, and had a massive driveway and front yard. It was sheltered from the other two houses on either side with thick bushes and trees; it was nice and secluded, but on a busy residential street. To the left was a massive 2 car garage, enough room for my car and dad’s BMW M6 2011 convertible. My jaw actually dropped when I saw that beauty. We stepped inside, dragging as much of the luggage with us as we could carry and the inside was just as amazing.
We grabbed our stuff and headed in through the beautiful oak front door. I let Rain out of her carrier and left her to her own devices; Dad had setup her kitty litter already. We put down my suitcases and I began to explore the house. There was a winding staircase leading upstairs, with nice wooden railing. The floors were a mix of tile and beautifully stained wood. Going into the kitchen, there was a set of bar stools along the side of the kitchen to eat at, as well as a nice kitchen table. Off the kitchen was the fancy dining room that had a massive table that could easily sit 15 people. The counters in the kitchen were marble and the cabinets were a beautiful dark wood. The house was officially gorgeous.
Dad must’ve seen me staring around in amazement, “She’s amazing, and the company got her for me at a steal too.” He explained. “Elizabeth should be in your room, go see her with your stuff.”
I picked my suitcases back up and began to drag them up the stairs as they rapidly seemed to get heavier and heavier. I finally reached the top of the stairs and looked around. To my immediate left was the master bedroom, and to my right was Elizabeth’s room with the bathroom beside her room, for her to use. Down the hall from that, at the end was my room with a bathroom and shower attached. I dragged my stuff over, thankful that the built-in wheels could be used again and slowly opened the ajar door.
She must have been in her early to mid (at most) 20s and she was quite attractive. Her hair was blonde and went a little bit past her shoulders. She was wearing casual clothes, but they still looked really good on her. She had a white tank top on, and jean shorts that looked like she’d taken the scissors to them herself. I noticed an iPod sticking out of her back pocket. She had her back to the door, and was making my bed.
I cleared my throat, hoping that she would notice me, to no avail. “Uh.. excuse me?” I tentatively spoke. Still nothing. I opened the door a bit more, and it must have caught her ankle as she was making her way around my bed. “Oh!” she jumped. She took out her headphones and looked at me with a smile. “You must be Andrew.” She greeted me, the warmth from her smile filled the room. I think I liked her already.
“I’m Elizabeth.” She said, sticking out her hand to shake mine. “I was just making your bed. Your clothes will go in that dresser there,” she explains, as she points to a dresser beside my door. “Here, come on,” she says, as she pats my newly made bed. “get your bags up here and we’ll make quick work of putting your clothes away.” I do as she says, and heave my luggage bag onto my bed. I unzip it and we get to work. We really did make quick work of it, as the entire bag was emptied and put away in a matter of minutes.
“Sorry if I embarrassed you by touching your underwear.” Elizabeth teases me. “But, if it’s any consolation, my cousin is your age, and I’ve seen it all, so don’t worry about me.” My ears perk up at that, and my curiosity almost got the better of me, but I chose to say nothing about it.
“Thanks” I say, smiling at her and blushing a bit. “Uh. Thank-you for your help.”
“No problem, sweetie. I’m going to go help your dad with dinner.” She says, smiling, as she leaves my room. For the first time today, I’m alone. With a sigh, I lean back on my bed and fall asleep before my head hit the pillow.
I woke up several hours later and still kind of tired. The tiredness you feel from travelling is tricky, since most of the time you’re actually not doing a whole hell of a lot. I was still a little groggy, but I managed to slowly turn my head and look out the window. Dark. Damnit, it’s night. I summoned all my will power and dragged myself out of bed. Slowly I made my way down the hall and the stairs to the kitchen. I looked at the stove time and it said it was 9:45 PM. I inwardly cringed, knowing it would be a pain in the ass to get my sleep schedule back to normal for school.
“Andrew? Are you finally up?” I heard dad yell from the basement.
“Yeah. Did you eat already?” I hollered back.
“Check the oven.” was his reply.
Opening the oven, I found a chicken breast, peas and some mashed potatoes kept warm from the oven. I’m kind of a picky eater which dad knows, but, judging by the complexity of the meal, Elizabeth cooked it. She probably will learn quite quickly that I’m a picky eater. I reluctantly plopped my ass down on one of the bar stools and began to eat anyways. I slowly worked my way through the chicken breast (which wasn’t bad) and the mashed potatoes. Peas completely untouched, I made my way over to the garbage can.
“Aww... don’t like the healthy stuff?” Elizabeth said, in mock sadness, which turned into a smirk. “It’s okay, sweetie, I’ll get you eating healthy if it’s the last thing I do.” she said as she walked past me and patted me on the head. With her back to me, wiping down the counter, I couldn’t help but admire her. She was quite good looking. Elizabeth was tall, but not tall enough for it to be unattractive. She wasn’t creepily skinny, either. She seemed to fall nicely into each category, which made her incredibly attractive.
“So, who’s Mr. Elizabeth?” I asked her, before I realized what I had just said. “Oh, there’s no Mr. Elizabeth.” she said, turning to me. “Why? Do I look like I’m to old to be single? Am I unattractive? I mean, I’m only 23 and so what if I’m single?”
“Uh.. well, um.” I babbled, not really sure what to say.
She gave me this knowing look. “Why do you ask?” she said in a suggestive tone as she walked towards me. “Do you want to apply for that position?”
“Uh.. oh, well. um. Nothing.. uh, personal. But, like... um. I just.” I continued to babble. I had no clue what to say and was cursing myself for saying anything and putting myself into this ridiculously uncomfortable position.
“Oh, I’m just teasing you, Andrew. Lighten up, buddy.” She laughed, and punched me in the shoulder.”
I just stood there stunned, not really sure what just happened.
Her face turned serious all of a sudden. “So, how long have you known?”
Whoa. She did not just ask me that, did she? She couldn’t have asked me that. Of all people, besides Dad, she can’t know. If she knows, then he’ll find out. Nobody can know, but especially he can’t know. Almost like she could read my mind, she said, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone... especially your father.”
“Uhm.. well, uh. A while, I guess” I mumbled.
Shit, shit, shit. I just answered her question. I just told her I was gay and that I’ve known for a while. Shit. Shit, what the hell am I going to do? This could go so wrong in so many ways. What if she’s homophobic? I know I’m in California now and it’s less likely that she is, but it could happen. What if she starts yelling at me and flipping out? She could start going on a raving rant about how sinful I am, and how I’m going to Hell and all that shit.
Worse yet, she could tell my dad. She could call him upstairs right now and tell him he has a faggot son. I can imagine it right now, “Oh yeah, Dustin. I was just coming into the kitchen when your son Andrew here decided to start hitting on me. That’s bad enough as it is, but it turned out to all be a cover for his faggoty ass. Yes, Dustin. I’m so sorry to break the news to you, but your son is a flaming faggot.”
He’d naturally be absolutely disgusted. He’d turn to me and let loose. “A faggot? No, not my son.” Then he’d look deep in my eyes, and ask, “Are you a faggot, Andrew? Are you one of those homosexuals that likes to take it in the ass?” The thought of him asking me that question mortifies me. It scares me, the thought of him knowing my deviancy. It made me feel sick to my stomach.
“Oh really, is that so?” Elizabeth said, with a look in her eyes. “That’s a very interesting development.”
Oh shit, here it goes. She’s going to open her mouth now, and start yelling. Yelling at me for being such a horrible, sinful person and Dad will come running up the stairs and find out the truth. Then I’ll be living on the streets. Oh shit, man. One freakin’ day and I’m already going to be living on the streets. Just my luck.
“Well, goodnight Andrew, sweetie.” She said with a gentle smile and walked past me. heading to her room.
What... the... hell... just... happened...? Did I miss something? That made no sense. Interesting development? What the hell is that supposed to mean? All the energy I got from eating was drained right back out of me because of my exchange with Elizabeth. Emotionally and mentally drained, I made my way back upstairs.
I couldn’t help it, but as I passed Elizabeth’s room, I heard her on the phone. I wasn’t planning on listening, but the first thing she said caught me off guard.
“Yes, I swear, he’s a cutie.”
“Yes, he is!”
“I swear he is, he even told me.”
“Yeah, he’ll be going to your school.”
“Ha ha, I know.”
“You wish, buddy.”
Elizabeth hung up the phone and the light in her room turned off a second later. Shocked at what I heard, I stumbled back to my room and managed to crawl into bed. I took off my shirt and pants, threw them onto the floor and turned over and fell asleep. I’ll think about the implications of this in the morning.
I woke with a start, and my legs hit my desk. I opened my eyes, confused, and realized I had been sleeping on my school desk. Lifting my head up, I rubbed my eyes and begun to look around. Luckily, I was alone. I began to scan my environment and noticed I was in the back row, and there was no teacher in the room, either. The right wall of the class was covered in corkboards with posts and various sheets of paper pinned to it. To the left, were 3 windows that covered the length of the wall, and underneath them was a heater. I heard the door creak open, and a rush of students began to make their way into the room.
They quickly found their seats and began to pull out their textbooks and work stuff. I looked down at my bookbag, so I could do the same. I cringed when I saw it. It was bright pink, with fuzzy shit all over it and a giant unicorn on the front, with a rainbow flying out of it’s ass. I sighed, and unzipped it, anyways. I began to pull out the contents of my bag, first a bottle of lube, then a set of fuzzy handcuffs. I reluctantly put them both on my desk, since I didn’t really have anywhere else for them to go. I reached in further and pulled out a box of condoms. Okay, this is ridiculous. I gathered all the items in my hands and started my walk of shame to the front, to throw all this crap out. I slowly walked by each row of desks, deeply aware of all the eyes staring at me. Finally, after seemingly walking for forever, I reached the teachers desk with the garbage bin beside it. Just as I was about to start putting all this shit in the garbage, someone shouted, “Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing with that stuff?”
I turned, to see who it was, and there was a guy standing at the door. A really, really hot guy. For some reason he was shirtless, and he was ridiculously muscular. He must of just finished football practice or something because he was wearing really tight shorts (which left little to the imagination, I might add). His chest was gleaming with sweat, to, which was incredibly sexy. Anyways, so I turned to face him and meekly managed to spit out, “Well, uhm.. I’m just... throwing this, stuff, uhm.. away.”
He approached me, and looked really angry. “You don’t throw this shit away, you faggot. You use this shit, you ass pirate.” He turned to face the class and burst out laughing; I was surrounded by loud, mocking laughter. Trying to ease the tension and because I was scared as hell, I started laughing, too. “Don’t you laugh, eh! Did I give you permission to laugh?” He yelled at me, as he spit at my feet.
Catching me off guard, he grabbed my shirt and threw me against the chalkboard. My lower back erupted in pain as it hit the ledge where the chalk is kept. As my back begun to spasm, because a metal ledge was being shoved into it, I dropped everything I was holding. “Pick that shit up, faggot.” He yelled at me. As I leaned down to grab the stuff again, he grabbed my ass. I cringed, because I wasn’t expecting it, and it was kind of a turn on (to be honest).
“Faggot digs the ass, eh. I knew you were a dirty bottom boy.” He said, giving me an evil smile. “I guess I’ll have to show you a really good time, eh.” With that, he grabbed me by my hair and threw me against the closest desk. The guy sitting there pushed his chair back with a look of disgust on his face. While I was disorientated against the desk, my attacker pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Taking in a puff, I could feel him blowing the smoke onto me, hitting my back. He then put his hands on my shoulders and pushed them down, so my stomach was against the desk and my ass was sticking out.
“No, please, you don’t need to do this.” I begged him, hoping to get him to stop.
“We don’t like bottom boys here. Elizabeth told me all about you and we don’t like your kind here. You taint us.” As he was talking, with venom in his voice, I could feel his left hand venturing down to my zipper, to take my pants off.
“No, no. Please don’t. Please. I’ll do anything else. Just, please, no!”
… I like it.
Too fucking cliche.
Tell you what, have the protag sneer about how he’s teaching a lesson to James then fire the gun as he’s doing so, confident that there’s no bullet inside. But there actually was zomfg and he(the protag) dies. Even better, you could click the last round, have James think “lol hes just trolling me” and then suddenly the gun fires and kills James.
A Life So Hard - Chapter 2
“Please! No!” I screamed, bolting awake.
Groaning, I realized that I was at home and that it had all been a dream. I turned over to try to go back to sleep. My heart was beating a mile a minute, and my breathing was heavy. I started to feel the pain in my lungs as I desperately willed myself to calm down. I started counting doubles to distract myself and relax.
“2, 4, 8, 16, 32, 64, 128, 256, 512, 1024, 2048, 4096, 8192...”
After a few moments of this, I started feeling my heart rate slowing down, and my breathing became more regular. I looked at the clock and saw the red glow of my alarm: 4:12 AM. “Goddamnit,” I mumbled to myself. “Middle of the freakin’ night.” With a sigh, I got up and reached for my luggage. I zipped open one of the front pockets and pulled out a bottle, sat back down on the bed, and popped two pills in my mouth, tucking them under my tongue. I lied back down and relaxed while the medication dissolved in my mouth. It wouldn’t kick in for another thirty minutes so, so I lied there and thought about everything...
I was nervous about starting at a new school, especially in my final year. In all likelihood everyone will already haven known each other, since they all grew up together. And I’ll be a loner...the weird Canadian kid...the novelty new kid. Everyone will want to hang out with me for like... a week. Then they’ll realize I’m not all that special or great, and they’ll lose interest and kick me to the curb.
Well, I won’t let them do that to me, I thought. That’s the last thing I need. I’ll just put my head down, and bulldoze through the year. Just focus on school and shit, and not talk to anyone.
With that new bit of resolve, I felt myself drifting into a daze as exhaustion began to weigh me down. With a yawn, I rolled over and went fell asleep.
I woke with a start from my dreamless sleep. I don’t dream often, but when I do, they tend to be... messed up, to put it lightly. The last dream I remember having before last night, I was a hooker in Wisconsin trying to put myself through synchronized swimming school. With a grunt, I got out of bed and walked over to my dresser. I searched through my top drawer for a fresh pair of underwear and put them on, followed by a clean shirt and pants. Then, still half asleep, I began to make my way downstairs. When I looked at the oven clock I saw it was only 8:30 AM. Damn, I forgot to read the alarm when I woke up.
“Good morning!” Elizabeth said to me, far to cheery for my liking.
“Not a morning person, are you?” She asked me, teasingly, with a huge smile on her face
“Well, sit down and we’ll get you all fixed up for the day.” She said, and motioned for me to sit down at the counter on one of the stools.
With a groan, I slumped and rested my head on the cool marble surface. I was beginning to drift off to sleep again when I felt Elizabeth tap me on the head and I heard a bowl of cereal drop down in front of me.
Jumping up, I began to slowly eat the frosted flakes that Elizabeth had put in front of me. The cold milk woke me up more, and the previous nights events rushed back into my mind. I started to choke a bit as I remembered Elizabeth’s conversation on the phone and my dream.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” Elizabeth asked, looking concerned.
“Just dandy.” I said back, trying not to let my true emotions show.
“Okay, my dear.” She said, as she moved past me and gave my hair a good ruffle. “I’m off to run some errands, and your dad will be in the office downstairs all day, okay? Do you need anything?”
“No thanks, I’m good.” I said, as I kept eating, and trying not to look at her.
I heard her putting on her shoes and closing the door, I walked into the living room, flopped down on one of the comfy chairs and wondered what I should do today. Absentmindedly, I turned on the TV. It was on CNN. They were showing a documentary/exposé about “clinics” in the Southern US that would “convert” so called confused, deviant homosexual children into law-abiding, straight children that were “saved” and put back on the path to Heaven. The reporter was explaining that they’d force the kids to into straight relationships and would torture them by not feeding them and stuff if they “relapsed”.
Watching this made me feel uncomfortable so I flipped through the different channels. Can you believe it? With over 200 channels, there was absolutely nothing on T.V. I turned it off, got off the couch, and wandered around the house instead. Going upstairs, I went into my room and looked out the window. It’s kind of hard to explain the layout of the upstairs, but my window pointed out to the front of the house. Facing the house, my window was on the right, and my bathroom was on the left. Elizabeth’s room was on the corner, behind mine, and she had a window in her room showing the backyard. She had a bathroom as well, and that window showed the side of the house. Dad’s bedroom, the master, had a full en-suite bathroom with a window pointing to the backyard and a massive window in his room showing the other side of the house. After poking into each of their rooms for a look around, (dad’s was the biggest, and mine is bigger than Elizabeth’s, but not by too much), I went back downstairs.
Off the kitchen was stairs leading to the basement, which was designed around the stairs, since they were in the middle. Directly across from the stairs was the “cold room”, which was were our freezer and stuff was. To the right of the stairs was the bathroom, and if you kept going in that direction, you’d see a pair of nice french doors. Those lead to dad’s office, where he was working today. I’d probably say hi to him in a bit. To the left of the stairs was a small alcove, where dad had started to build a bar. The basics were there, but it wasn’t sanded or stained or anything. If you kept going, you’d loop around to the downstairs living room, with our flat screen TV.
Sitting on the couches, you could see the doors to my dad’s office. Kinda weird, now that I think about it, but it’s like this entire house was designed around the stairs.
I flopped down on the couch downstairs and grabbed the remote to turn on the flat screen TV. It was massive, like 42 inches or more. It was mounted on the wall, like a picture frame and it was perfectly positioned; not too far or high. I started to flick through channels again when I remembered that I had been doing the exact same thing five minutes ago.
“Wow this is boring,” I said aloud.
I remembered that dad took the old Nintendo 64 with him when he shipped most of the stuff here at the beginning of the summer. That’s one of the big reasons, and causes, of me having such a torturous summer. See, I’m a huge Ocarina of Time fiend. I can’t get enough of the game. I’ve beaten it dozens of times. It’s gotten to the point where I can sit down and beat the entire game in about six hours or so.
Excitedly, I jumped off the couch and flicked on the Nintendo 64, I guess dad hooked it up in anticipation. I watched excitedly as the prelude began. As Link and Epona rode across the screen, I heard the door open to dad’s office.
“Ah, found the game, did ‘ya?” he asked, teasing me. “It took you longer than I thought.”
He stepped out of his office and sat down on the couch beside me.
“What are your plans for today?” he asked me.
“Oh, well. I’m not really sure yet.” I replied.
“How about,” he said, looking me in the eyes, “you hop into your car, and go to the mall that’s nearby -- it’s called Three Oaks Mall, so pop that into the GPS to find your way. It’s not far.”
“Okay, I think I’ll do that. Thanks dad!” I said and hopped off the couch.
He shook his head and went back into his office. I sprinted up the stairs, all the way to my room. I collapsed onto my bed, completely out of breath. I reminded myself I needed to be more careful about physical exertion as I lay there on my bed. After a few minutes I caught my breath and the pain subsided.
I stood up and looked in my closet, to see what I had to wear. I decided on a pair of skinny jeans and threw them on the bed. I had a bunch of sweaters (it gets cold in Canada) so I had to flick past those to see what small short sleeved shirts I had. I settled on a light blue button-up with various shades of blue stripes running down the shirt, which complemented my skinny body. After grabbing a towel from the closet, I showered, brushed my teeth, made my dirty blond hair all pretty. My blue eyes had a certain sparkle in them today, which made me smile.
Finally, with the last sock on my foot, I was ready to head out the door. Sitting in the car, my car was such a beautiful feeling. When I turned the key and heard the engine roar to life, it sent a shiver down my spine. I inputted “3 Oaks Mall” into the GPS, and with the location set, I pulled out of the driveway with a big smile on my face.
It was a relatively short drive. I cruised for about 10 minutes before I saw the mall. It was a pretty large mall, I guess the only one in the area. Luckily, what I’ve heard about parking in California wasn’t too bad here. I found a parking spot without issue, and walked in.
The mall was exceptionally busy (it’s the Saturday before school starts after all) which made me a little uncomfortable. The mall was big, but the halls were still packed. The ceiling was lower then most malls, you could almost jump up and touch the ceiling, almost.
I wandered around for a while, not really knowing where I was going or really interested in anything in particular. I wandered into a bunch of clothing stores, and even bought a few pairs of jeans and shirts. A long time ago dad had given me a credit card that I was authorized to use, basically to buy shit when I wanted. Basically, he was buying my love and forgiveness; but I don’t really use the card, so whatever.
Shopping wore me out, and by noon I was ready to eat. I remembered walking by the food court about an hour or so ago, and made my way in the general direction that I thought it was in. As I wandered around, half-aimlessly, I became increasingly aware of the steadily rising amount of people my age in the mall. At first, it was just the occasional teenager, desperately clutching a cup of Starbucks, looking like they’ve been up all night. But now, it was groups of them walking by, in swarms. Most would pass me by without a glance, so involved in their own little worlds that they didn’t even notice my existence.
A few times, though, the group passing me would notice me and realize I was alone. For some reason, they thought it was hilarious. I would hear laughing and jokes made about me. I was even pushed once. The situation was really beginning to get to me and I could feel the anxiety and panic building up inside of me. I needed to just get my food and sit down to relax. I looked around and realized I was nowhere near the food court, as far as I knew and I had no idea where I was going. I saw a group of guys standing off to the side, by the entrance of one of the big department stores. I started to walk over there and ask for directions to the food court, but stopped mid-stride half way there.
One of the guys in the group was really, really good looking. Like, holy shit. It blew my mind. The group saw me, and started laughing. Well, I said to myself, since I’m already this far, I might as well keep going.
“Hey, sorry to bother you guys. But.. err, where’s the food court? I’m kinda new here..” I asked, once I got to the group and kind of trailed off.
“Oh, yeah, sure. Well. See those service doors there? Just go through those, down the hall, and at the end of the hall, the other set of service doors lead to the food court.” Replied one of them.
“Oh, okay, cool. Thanks.” I said back, genuinely glad that the guy was actually nice to me, but a little disappointed that the mysterious brown haired beauty never said anything.
I started to walk away when a hand grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back. I turned around and the mysterious beauty had grabbed me. “No. Don’t listen to this asshole. He was trying to send you off to the receiving area. You would’ve been arrested by mall security.” He explained, half smiling as if to apologize for his friend’s behavior.
“Ohh...” was all I managed to get out.
“Where you really want to go is down that hall and take your first right,” he continued. “Keep going and you can’t miss it.”
“Oh. Well, yeah. Thanks.” I almost whispered back, in the shyest way ever.
“No problem. See you around.” He smiled again, sending strange shivers down my spine.
I turned around and not with a little uncertainty about how to feel and what to do, I followed his directions. After several minutes of walking through the mall in a daze, only half aware of what I was doing and where I was going, I found myself in the food court. I ordered a slice of pizza and sat down.
It must of been close to a half hour later then I finally jerked myself back to reality and noticed my surroundings once again. The food court was now getting busier, and when I saw how many people were around me, I instantly felt my anxiety flare up.
Over the buzz of a hundred conversations I heard laughter. It was loud, obnoxious laughter and you could hear the mocking tone of it. Slowly I moved my head around, scanning the crowd, trying to locate the source of the laughter, more out of curiosity then anything else, I suppose.
After a moment or two, I located the source. It was a group of guys my age leaning up against one of the brick walls in the food court. They were looking in my direction and burst into laughter when I looked at them. This caused me to flinch, which caused them to laugh even louder.
It didn’t really bother me until I saw that he was in the crowd as well. He was so cute and I thought he was nice, too; I could feel my throat tighten and for the first time in years, I felt my emotions come to the surface and my eyes welled up.
I grabbed my bags and quickly made my way outside. As I pushed open the door and felt the fresh air rush over me, I saw someone out of the corner of my eye. I looked over, and as soon as I could see what they were doing, I could feel and smell the smoke surround me. We were under an outdoor cover, I guess for the one time a year it rains. All of a sudden, it felt like I was surrounded by walls. I felt all the fresh, warm air being sucked out like it was being vacuumed out and replaced by the suffocating smoke of this person’s cigarette. I was struggling to breath when I rushed back to my car. I sat in the drivers seat and could feel the tears forcing their way out. I reluctantly let myself go and began to cry.
When I was finished I rested my head on the steering wheel and I must have closed my eyes and fallen asleep from the exhaustion of my emotional release. The next thing I knew, he was tapping on my window. I looked at with, the massive mark still on my face from where it was pressed into the steering wheel. I looked at him and unlocked the passenger side door. With a dazzling smile he got the hint and made his way around the car. He reached the passenger side door and opened it but didn’t sit down.
“I just wanted to apologize.” He said. “I feel really horrible for what my friends were doing.”
“You can sit down, if you want...” I said hesitantly, surprised at my own forwardness.
“Alright.” He replied, with a confident smile that managed to be warm at the same time.
He sat down beside me, and I immediately felt a little better about the whole thing.
“Have you been crying?” He asked me, a look of genuine concern on his face.
“No, of course not.” I quickly lied.
“You know, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he told me offhandedly. “Everyone cries.”
He looked at me and leaned closer. “Let me tell you a secret.” He said, looking into my eyes.
I didn’t say or do anything, so he leaned closer, his lips almost touching my ear. “Everyone cries, including me sometimes.” He whispered. Hearing his voice, especially so close to mine and almost being able to feel his lips touching me sent an uncontrollable shiver down my spine.
“Cold, are you? The only way you should be cold in California is if you came from the Equator. Where are you from, anyways?” He asked me, again with his warm smile that made it seem like he would never hurt me.
“Oh, no. Haha. I just got a shiver, you know? Like, someone was walking on my grave.” I explained, staring at the dashboard in front of me.
“Oh, I see.” He replied. I wasn’t looking at him, but I could hear the confusion in his voice. “You didn’t answer my second question.” He noted.
“My name is Andrew. I just moved here from Ontario with my dad. I’ll be going to Westwood Senior High School, starting Monday.” I told him, finally looking at him again.
“Oh, cool. I go there too.” He replied, with a big smile on his face.
“Cool.” That’s all I managed to spit out in reply.
“Well, I suppose I should tell you a little about myself, he continued, “I’m an only child. I live with my mom, I don’t know where my dad is. I’ve lived in California all my life. Oh, and my name is Brian.”
I froze. This can’t be true. Is fate really this cruel?
Mistaking my blank face for an invitation to continue, he asked me a few more questions. “Is it just you and your dad? Are your parents divorced? Are you an only child?”
I turned away from him and stared straight ahead. I was looking right through the windshield and past all the scenery. I’m just in complete shock.
“I gotta get home now. You should probably leave” I stammered blankly. All the emotions I had been feeling up to that point were gone. All the anxiety I felt from the mall incident and the incident outside was gone. The odd feelings Brian gave me which I can’t quite explain yet were gone. All those things were put back into the bottle, to be buried with everything else.
“But...” He said in disbelief.
“Did I stutter?” I asked him, with malice in my voice.
“No... Uh... Okay.” I could hear the hurt and confusion in his voice. I felt kind of bad, since this kid really hadn’t done anything wrong, but that guilt just made me feel worse and angrier. He slowly got out of the car and stood there with the door still open. My seat belt wasn’t on, so I was able to easily reach over and slam the door shut. I locked the door and fired up the engine. With a massive roar I switched gears and tore away. Brian stood there, in the parking spot with his mouth hanging open.
The drive home was a blur. I couldn’t even remember if I ran any stop signs or red lights. I grabbed my stuff from the backseat and stormed inside. I opened the front door and Elizabeth was waiting for me.
“Dinner will be ready soon.” She shouted to me.
“I’m not hungry.” I yelled back at her, with a little more force in my voice then I intended.
“Well, Mr. Grumpy, if you say so. I’ll leave it in the microwave for you when you’re ready.”
I didn’t reply with words, the only response Elizabeth received was my bedroom door slamming shut. I lay on my bed as everything finally hit me like a ton of bricks. It felt like someone was sitting on my chest and I couldn’t breath. I lay there, gasping for air, my lungs were burning. My eyes welled up from the pain, both emotional and physical. Slowly, as I regained mental control, I was pulled myself back together. Exhausted from my day, I threw off my clothes, got under the covers, curled up and fell asleep.
As always, right as I was drifting off, Rain jumped on my bed and curled up right beside me. She always slept with me and she was the only thing that could make me feel better. My guardian angel was here beside me, protecting me from the evil in the world.
I woke up at half past ten. The first thought in my head is that I’m messing up my sleep schedule. With a sigh, I shimmied out of bed, leaving Rain to stay curled up on my bed, asleep. With a yawn, I threw on pajama bottoms and a crappy t-shirt. As I opened my bedroom door, I heard muffled noises coming from Elizabeth’s room. I listened because I’m incredibly curious and nosy, but I made a mental note to myself that I really, really need to stop spying on her.
“How’d it go?”
“What did you say?”
“...I don’t know.”
“No, don’t do that. You’ve been doing so well.”
“Calm down and get a good nights rest.”
She hung up the phone and I snuck downstairs, to avoid getting caught. Remembering what she said, I microwaved my mac and cheese for about a minute and started eating. Only when the bowl was half empty did a sudden and unexpected thought pop up in my head.
Maybe Elizabeth was talking about me on the phone? But that couldn’t be. She had barely known me for one day. I quickly dismissed this ridiculous thought, but it stayed in the back of my mind.
I stuck the empty bowl in the dishwasher, and, still awake and bored, I turned to the television to fill the void again. Before I knew it, the clock read 1 AM and I decided it was time to turn in. Even with the ridiculous amount of time I had already slept today, I did not have much trouble going to sleep. I guess the thought of having to go to a brand new school in a little over 24 hours can do that to you.
I woke up at ten surprisingly refreshed. I found this bizarre, considering the events of yesterday, but it was not entirely unusual for me. It’s kind of weird, but every morning when I wake up, it’s like I start with a clean slate. Unless someone did something ridiculous to severely piss me off, I wake up and my anger is gone.
I sat on my bed for a minute petting a purring Rain and thought about yesterday. I wasn’t mad at Brian because I knew he didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not his fault that he asked all the wrong questions. He doesn’t know my history and I planned on keeping it that way. I’m not mad at him, I just hate him. He represents everything that’s gone wrong in my life. Everything bad. All the hurt and pain I’ve had to go through. It’s not his fault, but I still blame him. My problems aren’t tangible, aren’t “normal” or “accepted” in society’s standards, but he makes it tangible. He is the icon of my sorrow.
Today was a slow and relaxing day. Elizabeth made the entire breakfast spread. Coffee (not my thing), eggs, bacon, hash browns, pancakes, the works. My dad and I gorged ourselves happily.
I helped Elizabeth clean up, and when we were done we sat down and played a few games of Scrabble. She won a few and I won a few, so both of us left fairly satisfied. Neither of us had particularly hurt feelings and no one suffered from Overinflated Ego Syndrome. We both agreed that we were worthy opponents and that we’d “do it again, soon.”
Dad had work to do as usual, so he spent his day in his office. I’m used to it, so it didn’t particularly bother me. But, I did feel a little tug about it, because he did promise me he’d do better. Oh well.
I spent the day puttering around. I put away the clothes I bought and got my school bag ready for tomorrow. I watched some television and played some Zelda. I was right in the middle of the Spirit Temple when dad’s office door opened. I paused it and watched as he sat beside me on the couch. I adjusted my position so I was facing him.
“I was just off the phone with the school. I faxed them a doctor's note and you’re excused from Gym. The school board here requires that you still participate in some capacity, so you’ll be helping the gym teacher in whatever way you can, to a reasonable extent.” He explained.
“Alright. Good. Thank you.” I said back to him, clearly with a sense of relief in my voice.
“Here’s a copy of the doctors note and a letter from the school’s principal excusing you. He said he’d talk to your teacher about the situation, but I think it’s best for you to have a copy in case things get lost in the red tape.”
“Okay, thank you.” I said to him, as he handed me the paperwork.
He went back into his office and closed the door. With a small sigh, I scanned through the paperwork to see exactly what it was. There was a note from the doctor my dad got at the beginning of the summer when he arrived here. The doctor wrote a bland note in almost illegible doctor-speak explaining my medical condition.
Thankfully he didn’t go into much detail. I’m sure he didn’t even know that much, if anything at all. The school board’s reply was even more bland. Obviously a pre-written, formatted reply.
While shuffling through the papers, I noticed my school schedule was included in there as well. I read it over for the first time and gave it an approving nod.
“Dinner!” I heard Elizabeth yell to both of us from the top of the stairs.
“Coming.” I hollered back and made my way upstairs.
Before going upstairs to the kitchen, I put all the paperwork in my room. After washing my hands (like a good boy) I sat at the table and prepared myself for the Elizabeth’s next feast. She’s really very good at this, I thought as I saw the delicious spread.
After having probably the best dinner ever, I retired to the living room with dad and Elizabeth in tow to relax. Hours flew by, and before I knew it, dad was ushering me up to bed, telling me to get a move on so I wouldn’t be late for my first day.
I took a shower, and got ready for bed. An eternity later, I was lying in bed, with Rain lying beside me, ready for sleep. By the time my head touched the pillow, I was sound asleep, my last waking thought was hoping that I was prepared for what lay ahead.
These are long, but I read some of these short stories. They are really good!
Originally posted by AzontoMan:
These are long, but I read some of these short stories. They are really good!