8 years ago
I sat down at the dinner table with my big brother to my left. I looked at my watch on my pale wrist to see the time was exactly half past five.
My father walked through to the dining room with a glass of juice.
"So Daniel, how was your day?" My father asked him.
I watched as he ran his tan hand through his blonde hair, his blue eyes flicking between him and the door looking for our mother.
"It was fine." He replied to him, sounding as if it was forced.
"That's good I suppose. I just wish you would stop hanging out with Drew. I don't want him to turn you gay." Father grumbled.
Daniel stoop up really fast and slammed his fists on the table.
"That's it. I've put up with your homophobic bullshit for all 18 years of my life. Do you want to know something. I'm gay." Our father gasped. "Yep you heard me I'm gay and I'm I love with my best friend. And no he didn't 'turn' me gay. I knew I was gay for so long before he told me." Daniel ranted.
"What." Father stammered. "I want you out of my house right bowl."
"No." I shouted. "Why can't Daniel stay?"
"Because your father is a prick." Mother said from the doorway. "Pack your stuff Daniel." She told him.
Daniel nodded his head walking out of the room
"I'm so sorry Zed, but you have to stay here. You have your friends and I want you to finish school here."
"But mum." I cried. "Don't leave me."
"I'm sorry." She hugged me kissing my forehead. "I love you darling."
Daniel came over to give me a hug but father grabbed his arm.
"Don't touch him. I don't want him to be a faggot like you."
I watched as Daniel's usual happy bright blue eyes darkened with sadness.
"I love you Zed." He told me.
"I love you so much." I told him before father punched him in the face.
"Get out of my house you disgusting little fag." Father shouted at Daniel.
Mother grabbed his hand pulling him out of the house into the cold rain of Maine.
After they leafy father and I sat for 10 minutes saying nothing as he drank a bottle of Jack.
"This is your fault." He whispered to me.
He stood up and walked over to me yanking on my shaggy black hair to get me to stand up.
He kept repeating those words, telling me that it was my fault as he slapped and kicked and punched me over and over again.
I was crying my eyes out with a waterfall of tears running out of my emerald green eyes.
"Boys don't cry." He spat at me. "Don't cry, you little faggot. Only faggots cry."
I didn't try to stop my tears. Instead I ran to my room and closed the door. I flopped into my bed and buried my 9 year old bruised face in my pillows.
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Hey, so this is a prologue for a story idea I had. I'm not sure if I'll publish it but I might.
Anyways,
Love ya's, byyyyee xx
