Being Loyal To Evil Is Easy, Young Man; Revolting Against It Is Harder.

Chapter 8

AN: John and his father's apartment ^ TW: there are some homophobic slurs and references to rape

When he woke up at five in the morning because his crotch was sore and he was extremely hungover, Alexander remembered what he and John had done. Or, more appropriately, what he had done to John. The teen's curls were covering Alexander's chest, and his body was practically on top of Alexander's.

After remembering that he had school at seven, Alexander slowly sat up. A dresser stood out across the room, as it was bright pink. He had nearly fallen out of the bed, as it was a one person twin one. It was a literal miracle Alexander hadn't, as the room was a mess and he may have damaged something, or himself, had he fallen.

He slowly stood and walked a few feet towards John's dresser. It was the same one his mom had bought him when she was still alive; pink and purple with a white unicorn silhouette on the side.

"Lovely," Alexander whispered as he dragged his hand over the white paint. With his unoccupied hand, Alexander opened a drawer at random. This one had a few shirts and pairs of socks and underwear. Alexander borrowed all of these except for John's underwear.

A mirror was hardly reachable on the wall, as one of the many piles of clothes barricaded against tresspassers. Alexander, who could tell it was dirty laundry, stepped into the pile for a moment while he checked his reflection. Though it did not look too horrendously bad, Alexander quite obviously had sex hair.

Thankfully, a brush sat on top of the dresser he had just ruffled through. He went and grabbed it, and then Alexander started brushing his hair. Once it was styled as normal, Alexander padded outside of the room and into the living room/kitchen area. The carpet was discolored near where John's small desk had been shoved in a corner. A journal was hiding precariously on the edge of the desk, obviously John's. However, Alexander knew that it didn't have anything informational about John's daily life in it since before he turned ten. That's when Laurens's mother died and his dad turned abusive.

There, unfortunately, was no coffee previously made in the machine, meaning that Alexander had to shuffle through the cabinets looking for the coffee grounds. When he finally found them, it was already five-thirty. He scooped the grounds into the machine and started the process of making the coffee. A little less than ten minutes later, Alexander had finished his first cup of black coffee, and was getting a second when he heard a creak from another room.

***

Henry Laurens was a simple man. He was educated well, and though very poor, he moderately enjoyed his life. Henry was thoroughly educated in social rights, yet he was Southerner through and through. A 1800s Southerner, that was. He knew he was better than every other person of a different race, gender, or sexuality. Mr. Laurens especially hated fags.

After the tearful woman he had had sex with gave birth, Henry was ecstatic to see it was a boy. But, imagine how upset he was to find out after the slut's death that his perfect son, John Laurens, was a homo. That was the first time he had hit the boy, after he admitted to being a fag.

So imagine his surprise when Henry Laurens found another boy drinking coffee in the kitchen wearing John's clothes.

"You best have five seconds to run, boy," Henry said quietly. The boy turned and Henry recognized him as one of John's 'friends'. But the boy did not run. Instead, he threw his mug at Henry in a Kingsman-esque fashion, knocking Henry out.

***

John woke to the sound of a glass smashing. He rushed to the living room/kitchen and found his father face-up on the floor, blood on his face and a few pieces of ceramic lodged in his forehead.

"Alexander," John breathed out after taking a shaky breath.

"John," Alexander replied with confidence.

"You could get arrested for that, you know." Alexander scoffed.

"Yeah, sure. You hit a racist, sexist, homophobic abusive rapist father with one mug and you get sent on death row. Besides, he threatened me for being here, but you, the one who pays for the rent of this place, allowed me here."

"Alexander this is bad! Stop joking," John nearly yelled.

"I'm not joking around. He was talking to himself. He said, and I quote, 'After the tearful woman I had had sex with gave birth, I was ecstatic to see it was a boy.' Tearful woman. And he abuses you! We are getting you emancipated, and he is going to jail." Alexander looked over to the man whose blood was slowly oozing out of his face and neck. "To almost quote Ron Swanson,"To hell with you, man. Good-bye." Alexander then went swiftly into John's room, stuffing his clothes into a plastic bag he had found on John's floor. Then, he opened John's small dresser and emptied it out into Laurens's empty backpack. There was still more room, so he picked up the doctor's equipment Laurens had bought with his own money. John wanted to be a doctor when he grew up. Alexander then threw in every object he could find until the high-schooler's backpack was finally full.

He marched out of the room and straight into the kitchen, where he grabbed every non-refrigerated food he could find.

"Wha-" John spluttered.

"Let's go, John," Alexander said sternly. His arm was grabbed by the Immigrant's tough hand and John was pulled out of the house. Alexander then fished in the plastic bag and pulled out his phone. "I'm going to call 911, now. Is that okay?" John did nothing as he knew it wouldn't matter whether he tried to stop Alexander or not. Thankfully, Alexander knew what he meant. The other boy dialed 911 and put the phone on speaker.

"911- What's your emergency?"