Dysfunctional

Chapter 20 Blood

I walked home that day with renewed hope and optimism. The conversation with Matt had done me well, a lot more than I had expected, and maybe wanted to admit. Even if Matt's advice to open up to my mother wouldn't work, it was still a relief that now Matt knew what was going on and that he had my back if things went wrong again. Suddenly having this support to fall back on also made me less afraid to at least give it a try.

I had walked all the way home from Matt's house, which wasn't that far but felt a lot further because of the strong, cold wind I had to walk through, so the warmth at home felt very welcoming. I silently closed the door behind me, and took my jacket and shoes off without immediately yelling out a greeting. I'd first have to see who were home.

It didn't seem like anyone was in the living room, or the kitchen.

"I'm home!" I called out as I walked up the stairs. Jason was mostly downstairs when he was home, so I hoped that this meant that he was away. The lack of a response confirmed that, but also meant that my mother wasn't home either.

With a sigh, I plopped down on my bed. This meant I'd have to postpone my talk with mom to another time or day.

I watched a movie on my laptop that evening, not really paying attention to it. My mind was somewhere else, with Matt, with how we had made out, with what a mess that had turned me into, with how I had asked Matt to have sex with me, and with potential ways of starting a conversation with my mother; one more corny and pretentious than the other. Somehow, my mind wasn't with Jason. With what I had told Matt, I had figured out how he wasn't as big of a player in this weird twisted game we were playing as I thought he had been. It was more so his influence on my mother, and like Matt had pointed out maybe his influence on me too, that bothered me so much. It bothered me less that he had hit me and yelled at me, than it bothered me how my mother had allowed it. I didn't really care that he thought that I was disgusting for being gay, but I cared that he convinced mom of the same belief.

Lost in thought about lesser and lesser important things as time went by, I fell asleep with my face on my keyboard and my clothes still on.

I was up rather early that morning, aching and feeling gross because I had slept in a weird position and with my clothes still on. After taking long, hot shower that left me feeling shivery in the cool air of the house, I went downstairs for breakfast.

"There you are!"

Before I could look around or say hello or really do anything, Jason violently grabbed me by collar of my hoodie and dragged me towards the couch. I tripped over my own feet, but Jason's iron grip remained around my collar, making me gag and grunt when the fabric almost choked me for a second.

"Sit. Now. Where were you yesterday?"

"Let go of me! I can sit by myself!"

Jason didn't loosen his grip on my collar, and pushed me down on the couch himself while still almost choking me. Again, I felt as if I was getting arrested for some crime I had no consciousness of committing.

"Where were you yesterday?!" Jason spewed again.

"With my friends! Jesus Christ, why do you care? Let go of me, I'm not a naughty dog!"

Jason gave me a firm slap against the back of my head. "That would be an insult to dogs, you filth. So, what were you doing with those friends of yours?"

"We were fucking walking! Is that illegal too nowadays? I asked mom if I could go, so quit being dramatic like I committed a crime!"

"Really? That was all you did?"

I let out an annoyed groan. "Just tell me what you want from me already! What did I do wrong this time?"

"I'll show you."

With his right hand still holding me like I was a criminal that would make a run for it the moment his grip loosened, Jason took his phone out with his left hand and shoved a video in my face.

I was disoriented for a split second, but then I recognized that car in the video, and the people standing by it, who were kissing. I watched how on the shaky screen, I got my neck kissed, my butt caressed and my back stroked. I watched how Matt said some things that were inaudible on the video, but that were still fresh in my memory, making me happy that they weren't caught on the video or I might be in even deeper trouble than I was probably already in.

Somehow, it only occurred to me that it was weird that Jason had footage of what had happened at the supposedly empty parking lot, after the video was done playing.

"How did you get your hands on that?! Did you follow us, you sick freak?!"

"Is how I got this video really the biggest concern here?!" Jason raised his hand to slap me in the face, but this time, I intercepted it with my one hand, and in a flash of stupid rage, slapped him with the other. It was a satisfying, loud sound, the way the palm of my hand smacked against the flesh of his red cheek. It hurt my hand more than I thought it would, but the stinging felt so good, knowing that Jason was now feeling an even worse stinging on his cheek.

But, it was a dumb thing to do. Jason roared, and that was when hell broke loose. Instead of grabbing me by the fabric of my hoodie again, this time Jason's strong fingers curled themselves around my bare throat, pushing me back on the couch, squeezing hard. I didn't have the time to block my face when Jason's fist went soaring at it, and soon there was blood trickling from my nose, over my lips, down my chin, on the hoodie I just realized was the purple one I had bought when going to the mall with my friends in what now felt like a different lifetime, and onto the cushions of the leather couch.

"You're a disgrace!" Jason yelled, so loud, with his face so close to mine, that all I could do was stare back with fear, and accept what he said as truth for a second. He was sitting on top of me with his knees on my arms, giving me no space to move or protect myself when his hand hit my face again. I was starting to feel dizzy from the way Jason was strangling me, partially cutting off air and blood circulation.

"You know what? I hope that he raped you after that! I hope that it hurt, and I hope that you'll get aids from it! If it weren't for that bitch," Jason pointed at the ceiling, up to where somewhere in their bedroom, my mom was probably still sleeping, "I would have thrown you out with the trash where you belong the moment I found out what kind of a freak you are!"

"Let go of me!" I spluttered, feeling like if this went on for one more minute, I would probably go out from a lack of oxygen.

But Jason didn't listen, didn't feel mercy, as his free hand hit me in the face again, and again, and pulling my hair, and hitting me again. I was well beyond understanding what he was yelling at me, or having the strength to fight back.

But then, there was a shrill, sweet voice that pierced through the booming of Jason's insults:

"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM MY SON!"