Back To Me

Hope and Lies

Rave's POV

The dial tone rings in my ear.

Once. Twice.

"Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voicemail. Please leave a message after the beep, hang up, or press pound for more options," a monotone, female voice says.

"Dammit, Nat," I mumble under my breath.

It's been three days! Why do I even care? He's with Leo anyways.

I curse myself.

I throw my phone at my bed and it bounces slightly. It rub my temples in frustration as a headache appears.

I pace my room and end up flopping on my bed. I reached for my pillow and pull it to my chest. I let out a large sigh when something starts to vibrate under my ribs.

I grab my phone and hit answer.

"Nat?"

"Sorry, Rave. It's just me," Eddward says through the phone.

"Oh," I pause for a moment. "What's up?" I said, trying not to sound too dissapointed.

"I was just calling to see if you were okay."

"I'm fine, I suppose. Just confused," I reply, seeming to try and convince myself more than him.

"Well, Kevin said he hasn't heard from Nat either. He did say; however, that Nat invited Leo to the diner with Kevin. Nat was going to tell Leo that he wasn't interested in him. He was telling Leo that he was is a relationship with someone else. Then Kevin left," Eddward explains.

My heart started to beat a little harder.

"Where do you think he is then?" I inqire.

"I'd say it's best to ask Leo. Or maybe the waitress at the diner knows."

Eddward, you brilliant genius.

"I'll go to the diner now," I say before hanging up.

I pull on some sneakers and I run.

It's about fifteen minutes, but it was as fast as my out of shape body could take me.

I rush in the door, making the bell ring louder than it should.

I quickly scan the diner. A waitress was taking a greasy, stout man's order at the bar.

"Excuse me, miss. Can I speak with you for a moment?" I say, catching both their attentions.

"I'm working right now." Her adittude was so rude the she shouldn't be allowed for public servers.

I reach over the counter and grab her wrist. She glances at my hand before boring and evil gaze into my eyes.

"Please?" I plea.

"What do you want?" She snaps.

"Were you working here three days ago?" I ask quickly.

"Yea?" she replies, confused.

"Did you see a green haired male about my age. He had freckles and a few earring and is taller than me by about two inches. He was here with another male with a white mohawk," I rush a discription out.

"Yea, they were sitting over there," she pointed at a window, "talking. The green haired one started to leave with some other boy who was a redhead, but then Mr. Mohawk wouldn't let him go. They got into a huge argument that ended with Mr. Mohawk dragging the green haired one out by the arm," she explains.

"Why didn't you notify the police?" I ask, furious.

"Manager said not too." She turns her nose up at me.

I storm out and drab my phone. I dial Eddward's number to tell him what I just found out.

Kevin's POV

"Can you tell us what happened, Kevin?" a short, muscular cop asks.

I shift in the uncomfortable metal chair. I feel eyes gazing at me, even through the glass of the interrogation room.

"It's okay," a female cop puts her hand on my shoulder. She had her brunette hair pulled back into a type bun.

"I don't know what happened," I answer.

They know it's a lie. I know it's a lie. There is no way to hide it.

"The last thing I remember is walking in my house," I continue. 

My father's words echo in the back of my mind.

Disgrace.

Faggot.

Homo.

I shake my head slightly and the female cop stands behind me and rubs my shoulders in an attempt to calm me.

"Was it the boys who hurt your friend?" she asks in a soothing voice.

"Maybe," I reply, leaning into her touch.

"You don't remember anything?" The male cops cocks a brow at me.

"Not a thing," I answer calmly, trying to sound reassuring.

"Well, Son, if anything comes back to you, call us. We will make sure whoever assulted you pays for what they did," he says, finally giving up.

I force a smile. "It's not serious. It was probably some highschool kids trying to pick a fight. It's what we do," I say before getting up and leaving. "But I will," I say, lying again.

With each lie I told, I felt a weight on my chest. But what can I do? My father is all I have left.