When You Smile -TomTord Fic-

Prologue

*UPDATE FOR NEW AND/OR CURRENT READERS*
I recently received a comment on this chapter explaining some ambiguity and supposed plot holes that are present. And in response in letting you know that THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO BE THERE. This chapter, the prologue, in meant to be a VAGUE exposition to give you an idea of what's happening and what the main conflict is for Tord that gets referenced many times throughout the story. Everything will be explained in later chapters, and will (hopefully) come a complete full circle by the end, which is planned. I don't really plan this story when I write, but I decided to plan the end out so I can work my way there. Thank you for reading and I hope you all understand!

A bit of info going into this, Tord is from Norway (anyone reading this should know), and in most, if not all non-English speaking countries, especially in Europe, use the 24-hour clock system. So instead of am and pm, they use from 0:00 to 23:59 everyday to tell time. If you are in America or use the 12-hour system (meaning you use an and pm), its military time by another name. If you don't know that, subtract 12 from the hour if it is past 12. Then you will get your pm hour- converted from "military" time to the am/pm time. PLEASE NOTE: I use the correct am/pm labeling for times- 12 am is midnight and 12 pm is noon. I usually say noon or midnight, but in case I say things like 12:30 pm, you know the time of day (12:30 pm is in the afternoon, it is half pat noon). 12 pm is noon, 12 am is midnight. I swear I'm done with my clock reading ramble now. Go on and read.

<Tord's POV>

It was late. Somewhere between 23:00 and 23:30, according to my clock. My dad was standing over me, looming, threatening. He kept screaming in my face. He hated me. I was never the son he wanted. As far as I could tell, he wanted me dead. But my mom wouldn't have that.

"Faen ta deg (Fuck you)! Du homofil lille dritt (You gay little shit)!" He yelled those horrible words almost every night; he would threaten at my throat with a knife, sometimes even the jagged, broken body of a beer bottle.

"Far stopped et (Father stop it)! Jeg er din sønn (I'm your son)!" I screamed back at him, sitting in the corner he had backed me into.

"Hvorfor (Why)? Du er ikke sønnen meg (You're no son to me)! Jeg har all rett til å fornekte deg (I have every right to disown you)!"

At this point I began to shudder. Tears were forming in my eyes. I wish this would stop. I wish I wasn't gay. I wish I were more masculine. I wish I was more like the guys at school. I wish I could horseplay and play ball with my dad like anyone else. I wish I was social and wanted to play sports with the friends I didn't have. I wish I was the son he wanted. Maybe then I wouldn't be so scared when he was drunk and came home with broken bottles. I began to sob, putting my head into my knees.

I wish I were dead.

I woke in a cold sweat. I gasped for air as I shot up from the nightmare. Nightmare? No, flashback. That was a memory. The last thing I remember clearly before moving to Britain from Norway. Away from home. Away from the snowy winter I would always frolic in as a child. Away from being an outcast. Away from social isolation. Away from the painful daily reminders of who I am. Away from seeing death loom over my throat every night. Away from my dad.

A/N: I updated the prologue (what you are currently reading) so I could be a little more prideful in my work. It reads better now, it doesn't seem as choppy or rushed. I like the way it sets up the rest of the story now. I may go back and edit the other chapters as well. We'll see