Strike Of Luck

Chapter Twenty Seven

Jordan's POV

"Why are you doing this to us Jordan?" That was the first thing my dad said once I came out to them.

"I'm not doing anything."

"Yes you are. You always need to find a way to ruin things for us. So what is it now Jordan? Have your mother and I not given you everything for you to do this, this ridiculous phase." He said with evident disappointment.

"It's not— it's not a phase. It's who I am." I said with my voice betraying me and breaking at the end. I searched out to my mom for help—for some kind of comfort that reassured me she didn't share his thoughts... that she wouldn't abandon me right now when I need her most—but she couldn't meet my gaze.

"I'm not having some... some lesbian for a daughter. Not under my roof." The cold tone on my father's voice was almost deadly — his brown eyes just as cold were filled with disgust and hatred towards me. One that has always been there, it was just a hint before but now— now he didn't have to hold it back, now he had a excuse to validate his disappointment and dislike at me.

"I'm not changing who I am." I said trying to sound firm but my shaking hands and almost stuttering were give aways. One would think I was being brave for standing up for myself against the hatred... but I just couldn't help but feel so stupid. To question myself again—as if I haven't been doing that all my life... to think I was in the wrong here—just making everyone's lives harder. "I am gay, dad. Y—you're going to have to accept that be-because I already did."

But I'm not brave, not at all. I couldn't even say the word that I really am. So many years of it being treated as the filthiest word that you could call a woman... the fear of addressing myself as it out loud still ran deep inside me.

A coward scared of a simple word.

The harsh and heavy hand of my father colliding against my face snapped me out of my self deprecating thoughts. I heard my mom gasp but did nothing else, I saw her still where she was before the slap—difference being that she was now looking at me, but not to my eyes.

I clenched my jaw and turned my face again and looked at my dad. I wanted to scream and curse him out... some part of me even wanted to punch him once I tasted the blood on my tongue.

"You are no longer part of this family. You are no longer my daughter. Get your things and get out my sight. You are not welcomed in this house anymore." He wasn't phased, he even looked accomplished about slapping me—like he just did something he always had nagging urge to do.

That didn't break me though.

"Mommy..."

Looking at my mom and pleading her to do something... to not let him do this to me— to kick a scared sixteen year old to the streets... and be met with rejection.

That broke me.

I wordlessly walked out of the livingroom the tension following me all the way up to my room. I grabbed the bag from under my bed and put it on top. I went to search for my clothes on the drawers and put them all inside the bag.

I stopped for a second and looked at it while I wiped the tears from my face.

What am I going to do?

To say I was scared was an understatement— I had nowhere to go, no savings either. I never prepared myself for this kind of scenario because I wasn't counting to be outed the way I was. The thought of having to sleep on the streets was terrifying but I have no other choice and right now I have to finish packing everything I can.