Life in the rainbow

Xander

The runaway home's beds aren't comfortable. They're stuffed with straw and the sheets are rough. The pillows don't exist. While I suppose it could be worse, I just can't fall asleep on them.

I came out as a demiboy at 13, and was immediately pummeled by my father. A raging Republican in Louisiana, he did not take kindly to the LGBT community. My mother always loved me, and she had a way with my dad, to make him go easy on me, but when she died, my father only saw him as his daughter who wasn't a boy. And when I said I was a partial boy, that wasn't good enough for him either. That was worse. So he beat me unconscious, and when I woke up, he had a dangerous gleam in his eye and a mallet in his hand.

So I ran.

I ran as far as I could, and I didn't stop. I hopped trains until I got to Colorado, where I found the runaway home. They took one look at me and brought me inside for medical care; my dad had broken my collarbone and a rib, and bruised me pretty badly. I guess I wasn't the only queer to run to the shelter, I met a really nice gay boy and a few trans kids. But however kind the people are, I couldn't stay there forever.

And then I got the news.

My father, Gregory L. Hines, was a murderer. He had slaughtered a family of three because of the pride flag on their door. Two dads and a six year old girl. Jonah, Rob, and Lila.

Me and Henry, the gay boy who had become my boyfriend over the three years I wad there, drove to Louisiana to visit him in jail. Oh, that was delicious. His face when I walked in with a gay man... and when we kissed in front of him? Oh, beautiful. He may have hated that, but it gave me closure. Even those who say they will always love you might not, and when they hurt you, the best thing to do is to never sink to their level. Get back at them by doing the one thing they couldn't: finding love.