Neglect... (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 3 "Sparks"

6:13am
It has been a week since I got out of the hospital and I feel like complete crap. It hurts to breath because of my broken ribs, and I'm pretty much on bed rest. The only thing that is keeping me going are the daily visits from Kevin. Everyday after school hours he comes over and brings me fresh cooked dinners, or sushi. He keeps me company until my father gets home and he has to sneak out through the window. Today is Saturday so there is no school today, so I wonder if Kevin is even going to come over today. At that thought my eyes slowly slid back shut.
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I looked at the clock and it read 12:36pm. My father already left for work four and a half hours ago so it's been pretty quite. I took a moment and looked at the ceiling. All I could think about was the words I said before my mom crashed the car. I was horrible to her. Maybe if I had just shut my mouth and respected her for a second, she would still be alive right now.

Just then I heard a knock on my door. It was the code knock Kevin and I made so I knew it was him.
"Come in!" I yelled as loud as I could, hurting my ribs. At that I heard the door unlatch, followed by footsteps, then I saw him. He smiled at me and walked over to my bedside.
"Hey..." I said with a worn out voice.
"Are you okay?" He asked putting his big soft hand on my four head.
"Yeah...I want to tell you my story..." I said taking his hand off my four head and into mine.
"Are you sure, I mean it's only been a week. Are you sure your ready to talk about all of this?" He said intertwining his fingers with mine.
"I need to get it out. I have never experienced therapy or anything like that, so I think it would be good for me to get it out." I explained.
"Ok." he said letting go of my hand, and walking to the other side of my bed. He crawled onto my bed and laid right next to me.
"So my story starts from where I remember. My first childhood memory was being beat by my father. I was four years old, and I don't even remember what I had done to deserve it, all I remember was his large fist coming for my face. I remember the pain like it was yesterday. Then on went my life, the monthly beatings would turn to weekly. As I got to the age of about ten or eleven, they turned to daily beatings. And you know what my mom did..., she just sat and watched. She didn't tell him to stop, and she sure as hell didn't try to pry him off of me." I explained.
"Wow..." he said looking at me with sad eyes.
"Yeah. Anyway, in um...8th grade I came out of the closet to me best and only friend. Yeah, I'm gay if you didn't already know..., anyway, when I came out I expected her to keep it a secret, but boy was I wrong. The next day I got to school, I walked in and people were looking at me as if I had twelve heads. I made my way to my locker and when I opened it a bunch of small posted notes came falling out. At first I just thought it was a petty prank. All the kids where staring at me. When I bend down to pick up the sticky notes, one of the football player in my grade kicked my in the ass causing me to fall to the ground. I hit my head on my locker on the way down, and felt a drip of blood trickle down my four head. I noticed that the posted notes had writing on them, so I opened it up and read the word "faggot" off of it. As I said the word all of the students in the hall that were staring at me were now laughing and pointing at me. I was used to the physical bullying because of my dad, but this was the first time I had experienced being publicly humiliated. It stung like a bee. I looked up at the students and through the crowd I saw the girl who was supposed to be my best friend. She was the only one not laughing. we made quick eye contact, then she dropped her head. We didn't speak at all after that happened, and in tenth grade she moved away. All through high school I have been being bullied by that same guy and his friends. The day of my accident my mother and I were arguing. She asked me if I was excited to go back to school, and I thought that was a stupid question so I replied rudely. One thing lead to another, next thing I know we are flipping. That's why it was my fault. If I had just been respectful she never would have been stressing out, and we never would have crashed." I finished clenching my teeth to try and stop the tears from overflowing in my eyes.
"It's not your, nor your mothers fault. Shit happens. You couldn't control the fact that that kid walked in front of your car. You couldn't control how fast your mom was going. You can't blame yourself, in fact that is the worst thing you can do." He explained taking my hand.