Take Me

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"I'm a very happy person, but life is hard sometimes, and relationships are shit sometimes."

- Lana Del Rey

♔ Chapter Twenty-Seven ♔

I stopped dead in my tracks, right outside of his house. Why the fuck did I come here? Of everywhere that my stupid subconscious mind could take me, it takes me to the one place I should never, ever come to.

I wasn't even quite sure how I knew this was his house. I remembered him once telling me where he lived, but even then, I never quite pictured it like this. It wasn't at all what I expected, but it still scared the shit out of me.    

It was a four story mansion in one of the fanciest streets in town, at the northernmost point of Penzance. Thrifert Road, house no. 23. A gigantic Georgian affair, ghastly and much too big, draped in vines older than the Magna Carta. It was one of those eerie buildings that seemed to draw everyone's eye right at it, a big grey house planted in the middle of the road with the greenest grass in the entire neighbourhood and the best selection of flowers and plants in all of Cornwall. Up until that point, I had no idea that Isaac came from money. Not just any money, but real money, buckets of it, vaults of it. Ugly houses like this were wildly expensive around here, and hundreds of years old.

Before I could even enter the garden, though, I heard the front door clamber open. I immediately ducked under the shrubbery nearby, peaking over the edge to see what was going on.

"Not my son!" one man screamed. He was huge and menacing, with oily black hair, and an all-grey Armani suit adorning his massive figure. "My son isn't a fucking queer!"

"Tough shit, Dad!" Isaac screeched. His father slapped him squarely across the face, so hard that I watched him drop to the floor by the older man's feet, trembling, but still defiant.

"Don't you dare speak to me like that, you disgusting little homo!" His dad's voice was huge and booming, echoing down the whole street. I looked around the neighbourhood, and saw lights switching on and people poking their heads out of windows to see what was going on.

"Homo?" Isaac asked, raising himself from the ground. His nose was bleeding, blood dripping all down the left side of his face and drooling out onto his shirt. He didn't back down the entire time. "And what about you, Dad? If I'm a homo, what the fuck are you?"

"What does that mean?" His father looked nothing short of disgusted.

"I think you know exactly what it means, you piece of shit!" I watched as Isaac got back up off of the floor and spat blood all over his father's lovely clean suit. And trust me, that shit would definitely stain. The man looked absolutely enraged. Who wouldn't be? It was Armani, after all.

"What are you blabbering about now?"

"Touching your twelve year old son, that's what I'm fucking blabbering about!"

I almost gasped, but I managed to hold it in.

The gruff man ignored him, and turned away. He grabbed a few bags from the foyer of the house and tossed them out at his son, one hitting him right in the chest. Isaac wheezed, but still refused to back down.

If there was any good thing I could say about him, it was that he had balls. For every shitty thing that he is, and every shitty thing that he's done to me, he was a brave son of a bitch, and after that day, there was no denying it. I mean, his dad was huge, with mean meat on his bones like an overfed chicken ready for slaughter.

"Yeah, pretend like it didn't fucking happen!" he screamed, louder this time.

"Keep your voice down, you weasel, and get off my property!" His dad stood in the doorway of their home, waving his arms around like a crazy lunatic.