Truth

Everything Has a Start

The cool blade is all my eyes seem to want to keep their attention on. "The truth this time," He growls as he uncomfortably gets closer to my face. His voice is deeper than I remember it. His dark eyes are burning into me, and it makes me shiver go back. But I can't. I'm already pressed against the wall. There's nowhere for me to run. Not this time.

I feel the sweat on my skin as I sink down to the floor, my eyes wide and un-moving. I'm scared to even blink. If I falter my gaze, what could happen? Well, a lot, actually. A lot of things I don't want to think about. I try to stop myself from shaking, but I can't. I hold my knees close to my chest to try to soothe my body so it'll calm down. My breathing has started to become unnatural and my heart feels like it's moving so fast, that soon it'll stop.

He looms over me, watching me shrink under his snarl. I gulped, attempting to keep the sobbing down. I'd worked so hard to overcome this! I've done so much and I feel like everything I've ever worked for is now just crumbling. I have to put myself together, but how?

"The truth, Len." He repeats in a more threatening voice. I tried to open my mouth to reply, in hopes he'd go away for good, but that was too much to ask of myself. If I couldn't even get my mouth to move, how was I supposed to make sounds come out of it? It's so frustrating how weak I'm being right now. I can't help it though. This is how I've always been.

I've started to come to terms with everything, but now none of that matters. I have to accept my life isn't always controlled by me. It never has been. Now I just have to bundle in the corner and prepare myself for what's next, because I'm running out of time. I guess it's never been on my side.

How did I get here? I can't remember a time I'd been filled with so much hope before. I can't just give up that easy, can I? I let my mind drift off. Off to the beginning of it all. I guess if I don't reflect now, I won't have any other chance.

Everything has a start, I just have to find where mine is. Not too far from hell, I assume. I can see where my ending is headed, but where's my start? That's a real question. I let my mind wander further, back to when everything happened. I guess it's hard to forget it all when it always comes back to haunt you, huh?

I guess it starts the day I'm born, but I obviously don't remember that. But I can start with my mom. Is it possible to miss someone you've never met? I've missed her a lot, but what do I miss? I don't know what she looks like in person, I've never met her. I find myself going back to the same questions I always have.

What was she like? Nice or mean? She gave me up, does she regret that? What does her laugh sound like? Do her eyes sparkle when she's happy? What's her favorite food or color? Does she have a lot of friends? What does her house look like? Does she enjoy her job? What does she do for a living? Is she married? Does she have other kids? What's her favorite shirt she likes to wear? Does she like reading or watching TV? Is she happy right now? Where does she live? What's the rest of her family like? Does she have siblings? What's my dad like? Are my parents married?

The list of questions never stops, and I don't think it will. But there's one question that I try to avoid, but always find myself dwelling on too much. Why did she give me up? Does she not love me? I mean she might, right? She doesn't even know me. How could she love me if she doesn't know me? She might hate me then. Or worse, not even care about me. That makes sense though, she obviously didn't want me. She might think I'm dead. She probably doesn't even think about me. I was probably just a mistake she didn't want in her life. That would make plenty of sense, though. I just seem to screw everything up.

So my life starts there, but not me. I mean, of course I was alive then. But that's not where everything started. I didn't have a personality or preferences then. My opinions on life were yet to be discovered until years later. Oh, and I guess the time I found out I was gay is another piece to add to the start.

I guess my real mother is a piece to my beginning. But nothing is ever that simple. What else was at my start? Well I guess it's the many foster-parents I've had, and the orphanage I've lived at until I was around ten. That's when Ryan and Carrie adopted me. Oh and when I met my older sister, Jennie. They're not my real family, of course, but I guess they're close enough.

Ryan and Carrie are nice people, well, I guess, often. Carrie is sweet, and actually takes pride and considers me her son. Ryan is, well, not as nice, you could say. He actually despises me. I can live with that though, he's not the only one. Jennie is more of a friend, but not a super close one. They're all really nice people, but I guess Ryan considers me someone he can just take his problems out on. I'm okay with that. It's better than the alternative.

They brought me to a new home on my tenth birthday. They have a nice house I have to say. It has four bedrooms, one of them which has been turned into a place for Ryan to work. It's a two story house, red brick and all. A nice garden and backyard with a two-car garage. It's basically a 'classic' home. My bedroom is the only one on the main floor. It separates me from the rest of them, which is good for me. I am almost the opposite of them.

Carrie has red hair, her face dotted with freckles. Her eyes are a happy and light pale green, and she's a shorter person. She's around 5.8 ft tall, and I guess that's tall for a girl. Still short and lean. Ryan has blonde hair and dark green eyes, being just about 2-3 inches taller than Carrie, but not as thin. Jennie has strawberry-blonde hair with dark pale green eyes. Her face has minimum freckles and is about the height, if not shorter, than her mom, but still a little lean. I am totally different. My skin is tanned, unlike any of theirs, and I have brown hair with brown eyes. I am taller than all of them, too. I obviously don't look like I belong with them. You don't even want me to get on to their personalities. They're all just, really open. I'm just closed up and keep everything to myself. It's safer that way.

I guess with a new 'family' and place to live, new people come along with it too. Of all the things I've learned, I've learned that the people are things you need to be the most concerned about. You may hate the scenery you've been given, but at least the bushes can't make fun of you. The trees can't tell you how stupid and ugly you are, the grass can't laugh at you. The sidewalk and asphalt can't beat you until you can't walk straight. People can though. And people do.

I guess that leads me to where I think things truly started, for the better anyways. It started with a boy. A boy with black hair and incredible blue orbs for eyes. A boy who is paler than the snow, yet looks full of color and life. A boy with a warming smile. With a boy named Quinton.