Where We Stay

Chapter 2.2 - His Reasons To Die

Chapter 2.2 - His Reasons To Die

“Hey Stanley, word from the street is you’re raised by a couple of faggots!” someone pushed Stanley’s shoulder, a fellow jock. I could see his hands curling into fists. “Stanley, is it true?!”

“Oh look man! His hands are turning into fists! Looks like you’ve hit a nerve!” one jested, slapping the jock in the shoulder. Stanley slammed his locker door shut, turning to the forming group around him.

“Hey Stanley, if your parents are faggots, then that makes you a faggot too right?!” one pushed him against the metal lockers, making a loud clang echoing throughout the room. He was just staring at their faces, he was biting his lower lips, and gave nothing else away.

“Look man he’s not talking! Maybe he is a faggot deep down!” another one yelled. Suddenly, he was on the floor on top of the guy, punching him restlessly.

“Don’t. Call. My. Parents. Faggots. Faggot!” he yelled through gritted teeth as he punched the guy left and right until the guy’s face was blood and his fists had blood all over them.

Guys were trying to separate them, Stanley was kicking and thrashing while the guy tried to get up, sputtering up blood in the process. Someone finally got Stanley away from the guy, a guy came in suddenly, he was wearing a cap and had a whistle around his neck. It was the coach.

“You and you.” he pointed at the two nearest people. “Take him to the infirmary.” he pointed at the bloody guy coughing up blood, they nodded and took him to the infirmary. He turned to look at Stanley who was staring at his bloody fists, completely still. “You, come to my office.” he said before turning around to head for his office, he got up with the other jocks shooting him dirty looks.

I turned to Constantine who was still scowling at the sight before him. He took a cigar from his pocket, not the kind of cigarette you buy in packets, more like the brown tobacco you see the mafia have in their movies. He took a lighter from inside his jacket and lit it. I stared at him, he spared me a look, his scowl deepening when he saw my expression.

“What? Lung cancer won’t affect me, I’m already dead.” he shrugged before looking back at the scene.

“I didn’t know Stanley was raised by two gay guys…” I whispered.

“You have a problem with that? Why do you address to them like that?” he asked.

“I don’t know how else to address it! I’ve never met anyone with parents like that.” I whispered, looking away. It was true, anyways, I felt awkward not knowing how I was supposed to address his parents.

“Shows just how close minded you are,” he rolled his eyes, he moved past the snickering boys and headed for the door. The scene changed completely, I was back to the time where I was held hostage.

“Not this again…” I whispered. I shut my eyes tight, trying to avoid the scene.

“Just watch.” he whispered. I did as he said and opened my eyes, the jocks were not far from the commotion.

“Listen here Stanley, the coach said he’s gonna kick you off the team if he proves that you’re a faggot.” someone said to Stanley, he cringed at the word but remained still. “You’re under probation, man. All you gotta do is prove to us that you are a guy.”

“How the hell am I gonna do that?” he asked, then his eyes landed on the commotion. I saw a flash of pity in his eyes but it was gone in an instant.

“Ruin her.” the guy said, pointing at my naked body exposed for the whole school to see. “My girlfriend and I planned it. It’s your chance to redeem yourself! Come on! Everyone’s already speculating that you’re gay, man. Prove them wrong or else the coach will take you off the team. I mean, you wouldn’t want that now would you? With so much at stake, could you afford to lose the scholarship?”

“She seems pretty ruined to me, what do you need me for?” he asked, clearly hesitating.

“Why are you hesitating? Are you chickening out? Is it because the fact that she’s a girl? I bet if that was a guy you wouldn’t have second thoughts.” the guy shook his head, pushing Stanley forward.

“No, she’s my friend.” he said, staring at them at all.

My eyes widened with what he said. I was his friend? What a load of bullshit.

“That’s bullshit man, if she was your friend you wouldn’t be denying you know her when we asked you about her before! Admit it, you’re just chickening out cause she isn’t your type.” the guy was rolling his eyes.

“I’m not doing it, Heathe.” he said through gritted teeth. He turned around to leave the jocks, Heathe’s eyes snapped to glare at Stanley’s receding back.

“Listen here, Stanley. You’re my buddy, and I’m only looking out for you. I’ll just tell the coach myself that you’re a fag and you’d be out of the program for sure in no time! What are you gonna tell your faggot parents then huh?”

He stopped dead in his tracks, he turned to look over his shoulders. “If I do this, would you stop calling my parents and myself faggots?” he asked, squaring his shoulders.

“You have my word.” Heathe said, smirking. But he stopped him before he could take another step closer. He pushed into his hands a video camera. "Just in case you'd chicken out, we'd need proof after all." Stanley took it and pushed Heathe away and started moving towards past the crowd until he was in front of me.

"Come on, Gen, just hand her over to us, we'll take care of her!" he smirked. The rest was history.

“Stanley is an orphan, he never met his real parents, they died after he was born in a car crash. When he was three he was adopted by Adam and Charlie Smith. He moved out of his house the moment he turned eighteen and cut all ties from his parents, he was sick of being called a faggot that he just left. His parents are devastated, and he relies on the scholarship to go to college. When he graduates, he’ll return back to his parents and well, make them proud. He just wants to get rid of the discrimination, he thinks that if he does something great, people will stop criticizing.” he said, tapping his cigarette, ashes crumbling away from the tip. 

“But that’s not how society works, even if you do something great, they’ll still go back to pointing out that you’re not among the norm.” I sighed, running my hand through my hair. “Can we please move on?”

“Sure thing.” he threw his cigarette away, took my hand and we were gone.

00:42:01