No Homo

16

Liams POV~

Tonight I felt alive. For the first time in my life, I felt like a normal individual. I felt like I was finally allowed to act my age. Not once did my mind wander over the thought of money, raising a child, caring for my dying father; I simply didn't have to worry about life. It was nice, it was freeing. However, as I walk back to Francis' house, I cant help the massive feeling of anxiety that weigh on my chest. The tightening feeling in my lungs and the intense trembling of my hands are symptoms I can never seem to overcome, no matter how many mental health research  books I read.  

I glance down at the cheap Walmart watch that sits tightly around my wrist. 

7:38pm.

Luckily, tonight Francis works the late shift and wont be home until the early hours of the morning. It slightly calms my nerves knowing that all that's waiting at home for me now is an energetic little girl and the bubbly red-head who promised to watch her. 

As I approach the large house, I quickly notice the empty driveway. Almost automatically, I release a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Although I knew he was scheduled for the overnight shift, something in me still had me worried. Worried I'd come home to him sitting on the front porch waiting for me with disapproving eyes. 

You never know what to expect from a man like Francis. Before I was forced to move in with him, I feared him, but I could still live peacefully. I had my own space. I had my own time. I still felt free.

Now I live in fear. Even during the moments where I get to "escape" - go to school- I can't focus and I'm terrified that my little sister is left home alone with him. I know I need to get us out of here. I know I need to take my first opportunity to leave. But I feel so trapped. 

Sometimes I look at my life and I wonder if my mother would be proud of me. If there is such thing as a heaven, is she looking down on me with a frown? Does she simply turn her head, unable to watch when I offer myself up as a need to survive. Or is she proud that I'm doing everything in my power to save what family I have left. 

Am I even proud of myself? 

I think the answer is no. I wish I could be so much more, I feel I could be so much more. I just know if given the opportunity and privilege, I could thrive in this world.  As a kid, I always dreamed of moving to a big city and going to an ivy league school. My mother would often encourage me and remind me that I could do anything I put my mind to. What a load of bullshit.

Life is not fair. Some people are simply just given greater opportunity than others; some people are born smarter than others, some people are born into wealth, some people are born to be an athlete...and some people have a dead mom, a dying father, and an abusive boyfriend. I'm not angry with people who are given an easier life. I am not wishing my lifestyle on to anyone. The only thing that upsets me is when those people who are given such opportunity throw it away like its meaningless garbage. 

I open the heavy front door that leads to the large and grand foyer. This house is overly fancy, it makes me sick. In a situation where I already feel small and helpless, this house makes me feel like an ant. I feel so out of place, so out of touch. I pull on the sleeves of my sweater...Jackson's sweater- and quietly walk to the kitchen where I hear small faint laughter. As soon as Callie sees me, her eyes light up with joy as she ran towards me, wrapping her arms around my legs.

"Hi beautiful," I say as I kneel down to place a kiss on her forehead. 

"Hello to you too, cutie!" Lexi giggles as she hops off the counter, walking to and leaning on the kitchen island instead. I roll my eyes as I stand up and awkwardly pull at the sleeves of my sweater.