Honey

33. Today's The Day, Part 3.

>•<Thomas's POV>•<

All my life, the idea that there is some Devine being looking down on us, listening to every word that slips past our lips, the idea that there is a god has been shoved down my throat. Church. Prayers. Priests that look at you with a bit too much adoration when you're a young boy with no outlook on the world. With no outlook on what's wrong and what's right.

All my life, that's all I've ever heard. All I've ever seen. Ever since I was young and helplessly naive, that was my life.

Now though, now I see for myself. I see that god, whether he actually exists or not, doesn't care. He doesn't give a fuck about anybody. Especially not me. What sort of a god would favour someone like my mother? Or someone like Billy's father? People who have so much hate and so much overwhelming pain to inflict on others.

No. God can officially go fuck himself.

I'd rather burn in hell. Seriously, it seems like so much fun. Sign me up any day.

I'd rather burn in hell anyway than have to sit here and listen to my mother go on and on about how I'm an abomination and how now I'll never get into heaven and she also seems to really be into the burning in the fiery pits of hell part. She must be manifesting for herself. I mean come on, you're gonna sit there and tell me that I'm never going to heaven, it's like bitch tell me something I don't know.

"You aren't ever going to see him again, do you hear me?! How could you do this to us? We have given you everything Thomas, absolutely everything. And yet, you betray us like this, betray our love, betray god by-by...I can't even say it but I know that you know what I mean—"

"By what? Liking dick? Why yes mother, that's correct! I fucking love it. Especially Billy's. His is the best!"

Side note; it really is. And...now is most definitely not the time for that beautiful image to be the only thing that I can see in my mind. I think about my fiery rage. Burning hatred. Ok, that still doesn't get rid of it, but it's not that big of a deal anyway. I can be mad and slightly horny at the same time. I'm a master multitasker.

The sadistic smile on my face carries my words like a thundering wave and in no time, my father breaks. I'd been waiting for it, the inevitable shattering of his calm and collected facade. I'd been waiting, and now he's just gone and done it.

"You listen here boy!" He yells, his face a fiery red as he grasps me by the collar of my shirt and swiftly lifts me to my feet, "you will repent these...ridiculous sins and you will vow to never see that boy again or so help me God, I will kick you out of this house without a second thought!" He pins me to the wall as he lets the words sink in. In fact, he does it with such force that one of the photos that was hanging proudly, falls to the floor. I avert my eyes from his seething form to look at it. And when I do, I can't help but laugh a little.

I looked so young and happy. I was so ignorant back then. My parents were either side of me, my father clasping my shoulder proudly as my mother placed a loving kiss to my cheek. I try, as my laughter echo's throughout the room, I try to remember when it was taken. But I can't. I can't remember them ever loving me that much. The glass protecting the photo is shattered and bits of it are spread across the floor. It's almost like a work of art. It captures my whole life perfectly. The young and joyful me, in the centre of a shattered false pretence of broken promises and lies. The love my parents show me in the photo, never really existing to begin with.

"I'll leave," I pant breathlessly, my voice coming out as a broken whisper. My father hears me somehow over his seething. He hears me, and his body freezes in shock before he finally releases me and takes a few steps back.