Hell Is Better With 𝒀𝒐𝒖 - Sequel to Welcome To Hell

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 2.5 - 𝑪𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝑨𝒄𝒄𝒆𝒑𝒕 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕

Dread filled every nook and cranny of my body when I heard my mother call out for me. Shit...

I didn't respond, taking my shoes off in the door way before trying to dash to my room. When the frying sound came to a stop, I could see my bedroom door in sight, but she caught up to me too quickly. The light turned on behind me, I knew she stood at the end of the hall as I reached my door.

"You can't even speak to me? How pathetic." She started. I kept my head down, my hand clenching around the strap of my book bag and the handle of my bedroom door.

"I do too much for you to treat me this way. At least look at me." Her voice was like venom, flooding through my ears and into my head, making me feel sick like a snakes venom. I turned to face her, my head still down. I raised my head until I could see her just enough, locking eyes for a moment before looking away.

She sighed, "I don't know where I went wrong with you. Your father can barely stand to be in the same building as you, and you don't even care." I so badly wanted to speak up for myself, to say I did care. Did. I did care, but I no longer do. How could you treat your own like this?

My art supply bag slipped from my fingers for a moment, my mom scoffing as she stared at me, "And that, too. Maybe that's what did it. You just had to go against his wishes to continue the family business. Fucking art. That's not a career, it's for queers!" The words cut through me like a hot knife. The wounds from last time were just beginning to heal; How could they ever heal with constant attack?

"Are you?"

I knew what she was referring to. She wanted to know if I was gay. She firmly believed that art had ruined my life, maybe I only liked art because of my sexuality, she believed. It hurt. It wasn't any of her business, and all I could ask for was for support in my dreams.

"N-No. I'm straight. I swear." The silence was deafening. I could feel the tears pinch my eyes, but I refused to even let them crowd my eyes. I didn't want to show weakness.

"I can't accept that." I looked up to face her again, confused, "You have never shown interest in any woman, and you major in art. Even the way you breath is fucking gay. What was the use in raising you to be this way? Can't you just do this one thing for your father and I?" The tears fell. I couldn't bear to hold them in any longer. The words piled on top of me like a mountain on my shoulders. I couldn't muster the energy to speak up. I wanted to be alone. I didn't want to even be standing before her any longer.

"I-It isn't.. a choice." Silence followed before the sound of her footsteps on the wood floor sounded. She marched the few steps up to me, a cold slap landing on my right cheek. My head turned due to impact. More tears fell.

"You aren't my son no longer. And that is most definitely a choice."

She turned and walked back the way she had came, to the kitchen. I stood watching the woman who had raised me walk away down the hall in the house I had grown up in, my cheek tingling with heat but it didn't hurt. Not nearly as much as my heart did.

I turned to my old bedroom door, noticing the dents in it from my father's abuse to it, pushing it open from the handle. The inside of my room was dark, and cold. It comforted me, in the darkness I no longer had to worry about who was there.

Endless tears streamed down my cheeks, I didn't even bother to push them away. I set my bags down by the door gently, before I began peeling my dirty, paint covered clothing from my body. I was dirty, and knew I should shower but couldn't find it in myself to leave my room. I laid in my underwear on my bed, the weight of my body making my bed screech under me. The tears continued on.

I let my fingers dance across my cheek, the tender skin that she had hit hot to the touch. My face was sticky from my own tears, but I didn't care. I didn't care, at all. About anything.

More than anything, I wished I wouldn't awake in the morning. That God would hear my pain, and take me from this world. I wasn't even sure I believed in any God, or Heaven and Hell. I couldn't imagine Hell could be much worse than this. What was even left here for me?

Opportunity? A chance to change my life? Maybe.

Would it even be worth pushing forward for?