Deliciously Destroyed

2. Cold

"What—"

"C'mon, Sparkle, you know you love rooming with us," Ezra grins.

My eyes narrow as I try to escape from his grip on my arm. I need to go to the principal and ask for another group because contrary to what he says, I will not survive in a house with him, Silas and their two other friends.

"My name is Bright," I grunt, seriously annoyed with him by now. The whole bus drive and flight they've been bugging me, either by text or by sitting next to me.

Silas tosses my luggage to me, but it hits me right in the face. Rubbing my painful forehead, I pick my bag from the floor and shrug myself away from Ezra.

A group of three is just nearby, so I hurry over to them. "Hi! Is there still a place available with you?" I ask the first boy, glancing over his shoulder to see Silas walking to me.

He blinks. "Yeah, sure. But only if you—" "I won't hit on you," I impatiently nod, knowing that'd be the condition.

It's always the same thing. Since Ezra and Silas have outed me not-so-gently in the middle of past school year, every single guy is suspicious around me.

So far for getting a boyfriend. And girls? They think I'm only for the men. Ezra has told everyone I'm gay gay, while actually, I swing both ways.

Silas yanks me backwards on my collar, winking at the boy I was just talking to. "I'm taking this one back with me. Don't worry, he won't get to touch you."

Shame covers my skin with a nasty shiver, and I give up. I let him drag me back to their group, eyes on the ground.

"Ezra." Silas' voice sounds, and I glance to see Ezra glaring at me. I want to crawl out of my skin.

"He was trying to get a new boyfriend," Silas chuckles. I want to say I wasn't, but don't dare. Every time I speak back, they just make everything worse.

So I just keep staring at my shoes. I want to go to my own room and lie on the bed, reading or sleeping or just dying. I'm fine with everything, as long as it isn't this.

"Silas!" Stansley's voice booms over the airport. I flinch. "Would you leave mister Bright alone? Treat your fellow students with respect," he scolds, making Silas loosen his grip on my shirt.

I step aside. "I'm fine, sir," I mumble, hoping I can satisfy them enough they'll leave me alone. Our principal gives me another wary glance before walking away.

Neither Ezra nor Silas says something to me as we get on the bus to our own cottage. I see multiple groups with just two or three boys and curse myself for not trying harder.

I look outside the whole thirty-minute drive. We pass a huge mansion, with a large garden. It's almost a park.

The house looks modern, but aspects of the 80's are still visible. The front door, par example. It's a beautiful house, but the price won't be as beautiful, that I'm sure of.

"Those aren't for fags," Silas grins in my ear. I cringe and curl up even more in my seat, even though I'm already completely pressed against the window.

He points at something on the other side of the bus and I, stupid as I am, look at what he's seeing. Turns out he's pointing to a few homeless people gathered around a bonfire.

"That is where bottom-fags like you belong."

I close my eyes and turn my head back to my side of the bus. Resting my forehead against the cold window, I dig my nails in the palms of my hands. Trying to keep myself from crying, I draw out a big breath.

I'm not lying when I say I'm used to most of their stuff. Passing me notes that I have to kill myself? That's fine. Tripping me in the hallways? Bearable.

But calling me a fag is just too much. It just hurts me more than anything else, I don't even know why. I guess I just don't see why I'm being picked on, just because I'm bi.

"I'm not—that," I whisper, my voice close to breaking. I hate that I'm even trying to prove him wrong. I hate that he knows he gets to me.

The smirk on his face says enough as he turns back to Ezra and his other friends. Pulling the hood of my sweater over my head, I shield my face from them and just leave it.

****

Finally, we're all in our own rooms.

After fighting to not be partnered with Michael, one of their friends, I got the smallest room of all. But it's got a window, a bed and a bathroom, so I'm long happy.

Because if they could, they would have locked me in a stack room or something.

Finally being able to breathe, I close the door behind me. I pull my hood off my head again and settle. I take everything to take a shower and head to my bathroom.

It's clean enough, so I undress until I'm in my underwear. Putting the water on, I leave it to get hot. At least, I hope it gets hot.

Then I get sight of the spider just above the sink and shiver. I don't like spiders, so this one has to go. Walking back in the room, I find a small paper and a cup, which I can put the spider outside with.

I successfully lock the spider in the cup and walk to my bedroom window, setting him free. I shiver again, but this time it's the cold. Even through my window, I can feel the coldness of the snow 13 feet beneath me.

It's only ten degrees, and I'm not looking forward to the rest of the trip. Did we really have to go in February?

I sigh and close the window again, relieved by the warmth in my room. At least it isn't freezing in here.

Then my door slams open, startling me on my way back to the shower. Ezra gives me a wicked grin before pulling me along, not caring about my half-naked state or the water running in my shower.

Yeah, who's the gay one now?

But before I can voice my thoughts, he drags me down the stairs. I'm too focused on his bruising grip to notice where he's heading but once I do, it's already too late.

He slams the front door open and pushes me outside. In the freezing cold. In the snow.

The door closes, and I see him walk away. I bang on the door. "W-wait! Ezra! I-it's freezing here!" I shout, hoping they have some reasonableness in their brains.

I'm fucking freezing, and I'm not even outside for a minute. Shivers take over my body. The snow at my feet feels like it's burning, although it's the opposite.

"Ezra!" I yell. They can't do this, right? I'll fucking die.

At this point, calling me a fag is better. I roam my gaze over the small house, but no one even looks at me to laugh.

Hugging myself for both strength and warmth, I start walking and searching for some backdoor or window that's open.

But the more circles I walk around the house, the more desperate I grow. My fingertips and lips are blue as hell, and my nose feels frozen off.

I am now standing at the side of the house Silas and Ezra sleep on, so I yell again. "Please! I-I feel like passing out!" I sob, feeling the tears roll down my cheeks. Even those aren't hot like they used to always be.

Faint laughs sound from their window, and I know it's hopeless. Feeling my whole body start to shudder even harder, I desperately try to rub my arms warm again.

But as the cold of the snow is now running over my whole skin, as hurtful as slicing it off, I feel myself being less and less conscious each second.

"Please," I mutter, just when I fall down into the cold snow.