Nine tailed Destiny (A BBS Fanfiction)

Ch.1: New Home, Same Hell

I sigh as I finally grab the last few boxes out of the moving van. You would think moving would be exciting, but it really just sucks. All the boxing things up, putting them in the truck, being in the vehicle for hours on end just to do the process again only backwards and in a different location. Unless it's for something important, such as work, I don't understand why people would move at all.

We moved for two reason, one being that my dad's work had forced us to move or else he would lose his job entirely. And, well, he can't lose his job because of the second reason we moved...me. I was the reason that made my family very disliked in our old community. You see, we lived in a highly Christian town, and they did not take kindly to the fact that I'm gay. So, dads work just gave us the final reason to move.

Moreover, here we are in Toronto, Canada, far away from our old home, or, in my case, a completely new hell in a different setting. "Craig! Hurry your ass up and get inside! We don't want anybody to even look at an abomination like you more than they have to!" yells my 'father'. Sighing, I walk with the last few boxes in hand to the house. Walking inside I look around, the stairs to the second story of the house sitting in-between the living room and dining room. The Kitchen is on the left of the dining room so you can't see it from the living room, the downstairs bathroom attached to the kitchen.

Most of the walls are an eggshell white while the walls by the stairs look like a faded polished wood and the floors are a tan stone tile. I go up the stairs, walk to the left and kick open the slightly ajar door, walking into my new room. I look over the contents of the room; a stack of boxes in the front right corner of the room, my queen sized bed and box-spring lying near the wall awaiting assembly of its frame, my desk and computer in the back left corner of the room, a tv stand for my tv in the middle of the left wall, and my book case for my games and dvds beside my bed.

I blow some of my sweaty hair out from in front of my eyes, scrunching up my nose a bit to try to fix my glasses. Walking over to my mound of boxes, I put my last boxes on top of all their boxen brethren. I stand straight and stretch stiffly with a yawn, pleased that I now don't have to go up and down the stairs with more heavy objects. Getting all this up here by myself was a fucking pain in the ass. I let my arms fall to my sides before lifting a hand and running it through my sweaty brown hair.

"Craig!!" I hear my mother yell at me, I groan and clean my glasses with my shirt as I walk down the stairs towards where I assume she is. I walk into the living room, finding her standing with her hands on her hips. "Yes Mother?" I ask, not thinking about my words. Her faces turns to that of pure hatred as she storms up to me, "I thought I had told you to never call me that again! I'll tell you again, Faggot, that you are to call me Madam!" She screeches at me, slapping me repeatedly.

"So-Sorry, Madam! Please! Just tell me what it is you need!" I ask frantically, trying to stop her assault. She gives me one final slap to my cheek, effectively knocking me to the ground. "Don't ever, ever call me that again. Now, go fix your father and me dinner, and don't fuck it up this time." She sashays out the front door, going to check on my father who's out by the moving van. I grumble under my breath, rubbing my cheek as I stand. She's lucky I don't tell dad about how many men she's brought home over the years while dad's away on business trips.

I walk into the kitchen, walking around the island table; I open a box sitting by the stove and find the right pot. I make sure the water's turned on before filling up the pot halfway with water. I had overheard in the car that they had wanted spaghetti tonight. Usually, how things go for dinner, or just about every meal, they tell me to cook but don't tell me what they want. So, I cook something and call them to the kitchen when it's done, and get beat because it's not what they wanted. However, I got them this time; this is exactly what they want.

I put the pot on the stove eye, turning it on high and waiting for the water to boil. The front door opens and I turn and stare at the entrance, seeing if they are coming into the kitchen and pull out my phone. I scroll through YouTube, looking at all my recommendations. I watch a few videos, becoming envious at how so many people have friends and people to hang out with on a daily basis and I have...no one... I hear a hiss and look up at the pot, noticing the water boiling over the top, "Shit!" I yell while turning down the heat and putting in the noodles.

I look through a plastic bag, searching for the paper plates we had bought on the way up here so we, we meaning me, wouldn't have to get out and clean any dishes. I sigh happily as I find them, now thrilled at the fact that maybe they won't beat the shit outta me. I put some spaghetti on each plate, pouring some wine in a couple of foam cups for each of them. "Sir! Madam! Dinner is ready!" I call out, standing to the side of my masterpieces, no expression what so ever.

I hear the clicking of Mothers heels against the floor and Fathers thudding footsteps as they near the kitchen. They walk through the threshold of the door, starting to curse until they see the plates of food awaiting them. Faces of shock is all I see, "How did you..." I stand there, hoping to hell that they will just take the food and go back to their room. Realization dawns on Father's face and I go rigid with fear. He snaps his head to look at me, rage engulfed in his face. "You were listening into our conversation in the car earlier! You little fucker!"

He yells before grabbing me by my throat. I choke and desperately try to claw his hands away. He kicks my legs out from under me, throwing me to the floor. He kicks me in the stomach when I'm down. 'Mother' watching all this unfold before her like looking at animals in a zoo. Once done, dad stands with a scowl, spitting on me while I struggle to breath.

They each take a plate, stepping over me in disgust. Once they are gone I grab my glasses that had flown off during the scuffle, and after putting them in my pocket, I clamber onto my hand and knees with a heave. "God fucking damn it.." I spit out a small bit of blood as I lift a hand to the counter to help pull myself up. I groan and lean onto the counter, limping to the sink as best I can. I limp to the sink and turn it on, cupping my hands underneath and splashing my face a few times. I look up out the window that's above the sink, the moon shining brilliantly in the sky, illuminating everything with its glow.

I feel tears well in my eyes, and I look down in the sink as I cry, trying my best to silent my sobs. Why must everything be hell for me? I just like guys, isn't love in any way, shape, or form special? Why should it matter what gender it is as long as it's love that fuels you?

Suddenly I feel as if I'm being watched, feeling as if someone is looking into my soul just by staring. I jerk my head up, look out the window, and out to the other side of the street. A glowing set of eyes shine at me, I strain to see so I quickly pull out my glasses and hurriedly put them on. I look out the window and all I see are the bushes where the creature was, shivering as something passes through them. I figure it's just an animal and choose to ignore it.

I roll my eyes, "Stupid animals." I push myself up, attempting to stand on my own. I succeed and go towards the stairs, going to my room to assemble my bed. I start to think about going back to school and how 'fun' it will be. Being the new kid, both in town and in school, I'm going to have a reputation already. It's going to be humiliating, and if they were to find out I'm gay...It'll be hell away from hell. It's the middle of the school year here, I'm not going to know where to go and I'll be wandering around the halls like a dumbass. "Great...Just great..."