Struggle For Homo

Part 2

Chapter 24

I had a plan that was saved on a desktop never to be removed: a simple life; I would look around me and be content. Unfortunately, I wasn't that lucky.

On the first day it could be accepted if you were alone since no one knew each other and everyone was in the same position. By a few months in and you're still sitting at the back of the lecture hall figuring out psychological theories on your own then it's depressing. It didn't stop at the end of class, the people around me were nice enough but I wasn't one of them.

At school, I had never endured loneliness as although I hadn't been in the dickhead clan I had a decent- sized group of friends. There was no Ford, no one like him to me.

That changed one night while staring at the trophy cabinet of bottles at the bar drinking alone before closing time. A man I had seen around sat beside me and ordered himself a beer. Black hair fell to just above his shoulder, tattoos sketched into his neck and a glint of a stud pierced his nose. He flashes me a grin.

"I'm Rockwell," We shake hands and his beer is given to him by a robot assistant.

"Braylen,"

"Nice. Come on, what are you doing here on your own in this shithole? Come outside, got a group of mates out there. Want to come?" Rockwell is offering me a lifeline that shakes off thoughts of packing up my stuff and getting the first electric train home.

It was like being served a feast after surviving on scraps. Before Rockwell, I had nothing to do except work which now got abandoned. They welcomed me in, and I was a part of something again- laughing and running through the streets until dawn. Phone calls with school friends and Mums got shorter and shorter apart from Ford who's stubborn. Soon moved in and boys and girls would rotate out and in of my bedroom (the girls when the rest had gone out for the night). Even Rockwell sometimes though he couldn't be tied down.

Staring at the ceiling was the single time I would get a rush of emotion and pleasure, a rare feeling in my mind of nothingness. Party day, party night and sleep then wake up dazed and half-aware during the day. Perfect.

If I'm on a path to self-destruction I have friends by my side.

Rockwell takes a puff on his vape and blows a ring of smoke at our friend Kaya who lives with us too. She aims her fist at his face which he blocks playfully. Some of the others vape too even if evidence suggests that it's harmful. Less dangerous than what a couple do to supplement their habits, but I haven't touched a pack of those once.

"Bray, do you want this?" He offers me a bowl of crisps that Kayda passed onto him.

I shake my head, stomach turning. "No thanks, gorged myself on the snack cupboard this afternoon," In that moment of silence, I notice what sounds like thuggish cheers coming from outside. "What was that?" No one answers me, a moment of quiet before running up to the window jostling to get a peak.

Streetlights illuminate a scene which makes me want to turn away in horror. A vicious pack of lads and girls from our uni surround a lone young woman who whimpers and cowers as they yank at her hair and kick her, punch her, whack her. In unison they chant something we can't quite hear. I want the curtains to be closed and never opened and for this event to be erased from my memory. I can't do that since Rockwell urges me to come along to investigate with the rest.

We bound outside and I bump into Kaya by mistake when she pauses to watch. It has escalated out of control now: someone pushed her to the ground and torn her clothes, blood courses from her nose and she sobs incessantly.

Now I hear them bellow "Het! Het! Het!" The acidic shock is the most I have felt in months. She's like me but not because I haven't been caught and she has. I want to tell them to stop and console her though how can I protect her from the masses? I can't look after myself.