Homeless ~Ereri

Chapter 9

///italics is gonna be a flashback ( woo Levi past ) also this is a long chapter and will continue in chapter 10.

//Not everything mentioned in here is spoken to Armin, I just wanted to tell you all about Levi's past\\

*TRIGGER WARNING*
*If you need you can skip this chapter, just message me and I'll tell you the main details that happen in the chapter without the trigger*
~

"Yeah yeah anyway, um I think that's enough about me... Uh.." Armin looked at me as though I could kill him, but I wouldn't. Am I really that scary?
"Tell me a..a bit about you?"

Armin doesn't seem to talk much but he seemed confident talking about his story. I suppose I should tell him mine, this kinda reminds me a bit of when I went to group therapy. But what if I can't? What if it triggers another panic attack, I could have a breakdown. I can't cry in public. It feels like a massive weight on my chest that I can't shake off, I feel like I'm trapped. Could I lie about my past? No what am I thinking, I can't do that....

I slowly started taking in a deep breath and Armin reassuringly smiled at me, I rolled my eyes at him and breathed out. I have to think right back to the start to remember how it all started but I think I'm ready...

I was born into a rich French family with a countless number of cousins and moved to America to live as an only child with my parents. They died when I was 7, murdered in front of my eyes, I was left scarred and traumatised forever. However I didn't feel any sympathy toward them, I didn't shed one tear and that's what scared me. Did I not care about my parents? Of course I did, they were always kinds to me and I loved them, or so I thought. Maybe I was just so obsessed with having my own freedom, I couldn't wait to grow older and live alone or get married. In fact, I was glad they died and I have to live with that guilt.

I was homeschooled and happy until my parents died. This is when I started school and my life took a wrong turn into hell. I experienced bullying for the first time, I didn't realise what it was at first, I thought people were laughing with me instead of at me. I thought they were taking the piss out of my height or my chubby face and it took me a whole year to realise they hated my personality. But it was too late to change. I was stuck up and cared for no one. Maybe that's why I didn't care about my parents, because I was too stuck up to realise they actually hated me.

Anyway, as a teenager, I went up to high school already depressed and hoping I could get a new start in a new place with new people to meet. I could maybe even make a friend or two.

But high school isn't where I found a 'new start,' in fact it won't got worse. I did make a new friend, Petra. She was really kind and didn't care about how 'stuck up' I was, she knew I was kind deep inside but I was scared invade I hurt her. What if something happens to her and I find out that I don't care, just like with my parents? I don't know what I'd do.

During high school, Petra wasn't my only friend. No, she introduced me to her cousin Oluo and some other brats who I couldn't give two shits about. The three of us became very close and they never once made fun of my height. Of course, just because I finally had two friends, that didn't mean the bullying ended there. Fights were a daily, sometimes hourly, event and everyday a received at least three new bruises but I didn't give in so easily. Everyday when I returned home, I would go to the old gym which my dad used to go to and 'trained' as hard as I could to get strong. I wanted to beat my bullies so bad that I felt as though my hair was going to fall out, but I didn't stop there.

Every time I felt I was going to give in, I felt I needed punishing. Whenever I felt like giving in or having an extra break I would cut. It wasn't just when I gave in either, I did it whenever I lost a fight in school. It soon became a big problem and it turned into an addiction after I felt the need to carve more patterns in my skin daily. I had scars lining my arms, my legs, my hips and my stomach. It made me sick but I found comfort in what I was doing. It seemed right at the time but I was very wrong.

After another year of becoming strong, I felt like I was finally ready. I had won most of my fights for about a month now and I realised people were teasing me less and had started things behind my back instead of to my face. The only problem I had now was the new kid. He was tough and always picking on me. I decided I was ready to fight him and when I did we were equally as strong. I felt I was going to win but it was when I was about to throw a final punch that we were caught and separated by the head teacher. He was holding my arm up to stop me attacking and the boy soon became the last of my problems as my sleeve started slipping down.

Before I had the chance to pull it back up, everywhere went silent. Some kids were pointing and others had either horrified or scared and worried expressions on their faces but he was laughing. As I was being dragged away by the head teacher, I'll never forget what that shitty brat said to me after calling me weak-
"If you wanted to die that badly, you shouldn't have punched me back."

Of course, since the rumours around school after the fight were true, I was forced into seeing a number of psychologists and therapists which didn't help at all. I had to move schools but stayed in touch with Petra, Oluo didn't understand why I did and thought it was 'silly' at first it so he kept quiet around me but we were still friends.

None of the support I received helped me and I soon became more depressed than ever. I didn't attend school, I didn't even leave my house. My adoptive parents tried their best to encourage me, raise me and keep me happy and I was grateful for that but, it just wasn't enough to make me smile.

The day came when I was forced to return to school and I was far from happy about it but I had to do my best to study for exams because I figured that if by some miracle my life could actually get better, I'd probably want a chance at finding a job. However I knew I'd be covered because of the money my parents had left for me, they even left me their mansion like house.

When I returned to school I had an invitation for a sixteenth birthday party. I was scared about going since I was only 15 but I went anyway, I don't know why but I don't think I regretted it either.

Although I was underage, I drank until I nearly passed out. I danced until my legs nearly snapped and I lost count of how many girls had kissed me. I didn't do anything further than a kid though, apparently I was 'too small' for many of the decent girls. But I didn't mind because I didn't want to anyway.

It was when I woke up in a strangers house the next day that I was looking in my pocket for some paracetamol to clear my hangover headache when I found a note. On it read, 'Starbucks tomorrow 12.00.' I guessed someone wanted to meet me.

I know it was dangerous but I went. I knew that I could get away with pretending it's not me if some person tries to take me, plus I'm strong and they probably don't remember me since everyone was drunk last night. I waited outside the only Starbucks in town, leaned against a wall until 12.30. I was about to leave thinking they weren't going to turn up but then a huge shadow loomed over me. I looked up and my heart stopped. It was 'that' guy from my old school. The one I fought with.

My boredom turned to anger and I was about to finally throw that last punch but the boy grabbed my arm and roughly pinned me against the wall. I thought he was going to kill me but changed my mind when I found his lips pressed against mine.

That was when I found out I was gay.

His name...

...was Erwin Smith