Iris

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I awoke the next day to an empty bed, and a sore body. Everything hurt, and I groaned as I sat up. Even with the pain, I felt so happy. My first time had been amazing, and I thought I finally was able to say those three words to somebody else. Then, I looked at the night stand beside my bed. On it rested a note. I picked it up and read:

Aaron,

Thanks for the fun night, took you long enough. I didn’t think we’d ever do it. Sorry to say, I think we had a nice run, but you could do better to be with somebody else. I’ve blocked my number on your phone, and I don’t expect to see you tomorrow. Hope you’re not too sore.

Nate.

If I didn’t know his handwriting already, I wouldn’t have believed he had written that note. But I knew, I knew it was him. This was real, this had happened. I had become a late night lay. I was nothing more. The ache in my body was nothing compared to the shattering of my heart. I thought I had felt something, but it was a lie. I was used, and he didn’t even have the guts to say any of this to my face. I was useless, and stupid. Then I heard the door opening, so I mechanically threw on some clothes. From the other room came the booming voice of my father. “AAAAARROOOOONNN!!!!” That voice was the voice of a murderer, ready to slaughter his victim. I stepped into the kitchen to find him staring at his phone with pure hatred. My voice shook, “Y-yes, Dad?” He gave me a stare of venom. “Want to explain this?” He turned the phone towards me. On the  screen was a picture of Nate and I kissing. The memory was another stab to the heart, but when I realized what was happening, I wanted to crawl into a shell and hide. The man stared at me some more, then he threw the phone against the wall and slapped my face. I fell to the floor, weak from the night before. “You disgusting faggot! I knew, I knew you were sick! And now you go behind my back and kiss men in public? What is wrong with you, you vile thing? What else have you done?!” My throat sealed up as I looked up at him. “If you say you and that trash did it, I will beat you worse.” Again, I said nothing. He screamed, “I KNEW IT!!” Then came his foot. He started wailing on my stomach, beating me for all I was worth. Then  he pulled me up by the hair and threw me at the door. “Get out! Get out of here you nasty fag!” I ran, ran as hard as I could. I ran and never looked back. All the while my stomach threatened to burst from the pain. Tears raced across my cheekbones as the wind pushed them from my red eyes. Knowing nowhere else to go, I hid at the school. There was a small nook by the cafeteria that I knew I could hide in until the next day. From there, I didn’t know. So I found the nook, and once there I curled into a ball, trying to breathe steadily, trying to push away the pain. I knew he’d never accept me, I knew I was nothing more than a disgrace. I laid there on the floor crying, hoping the next day would never come, hoping the world would leave me. Sadly, it was not to be. The next morning, as the sun rose, students began filing into the many halls of the school. I awoke to their footsteps and loud chatter. It was too much noise, and my ears felt ready to bleed. Why couldn’t everybody just shut up? Why did they all have to be so loud and annoying? I retreated to my first class of the day, knowing the teacher would be there early. I sat in silence, doing nothing but sketching on blank paper. I had no supplies with me, no books, no homework. My hair was a rat’s nest. My clothes were rumpled and worn. I finally looked the way I felt, my mask having finally shattered. The bell rang after who knows how long and students began taking their seats. I moved to the back so as not to be disturbed. Jessie walked in and looked around semi-frantically. She saw me and started rushing to get closer. I cringed back into the darkness, making it obvious that I wanted solitude. She looked hurt, but backed away slowly. We sat there as the teacher began discussing our next art project. For it, we would require x-acto blade knifes. Each knife had incredibly sharp points, one slip and somebody could lose a finger. I carved into the cardboard we were given. Each scrape etched a new scratch of the pain I felt. I got lost, so lost that I nearly missed the bell signaling the end of the class. I stood up and tucked the knife into my pocket. The teacher did not notice. Down the hall, close to my next class, I made the mistake of looking up. There, I saw two people. One was Nate, laughing with some friends. The other was Derek, looking at me hesitantly, obviously worried about my appearance. My shattered heart dissolved to nothing. Fresh tears filled my eyes as I ran the other way to the nearest bathroom stall. Locking the door, I pulled out the knife and forgot about all judgment that would befall me. I took the blade and used my left arm as my cardboard. In it I wrote out the only word that could stay in my brain, the word that marked me as who I truly was. I was nothing more, than a faggot. My vision began to cloud, which I could not, and did not fight. I was tired of fighting. What was the point? This is what I wanted, to forever sleep, and never have to deal with this world and its harsh ways. Everything began to go black, but there was something else. A noise, like a shout. It was a familiar voice, and warm and comforting voice. It seemed to be screaming my name, trying and succeeding at getting the door open. I was picked up by somebody so strong, so warm, and so gentle. The last thing I remember seeing was a set of brown eyes full of tears. I knew those eyes, and I pushed out three words that I wanted them to hear. “I….love…you..” I thought, though it must have been a dream, or hallucination, that I heard him say the same to me. Must have been a hallucination.