Fallen Angel

Part III

After a couple of weeks, our friendship flourished and we became best friends. I didn't even know how. He was this popular kid who had all of these friends, and I was just in the background, living life on my own. But somehow, we connected. Maybe it's because he is actually really sensitive on the inside, or maybe it's just because he feels bad for me. My mom doesn't even talk to me anymore. I don't think it's because she hates me or anything. I think it's because she failed me as a mother and created a person with too many problems. My father keeps getting more verbally abusive. He tells me to go kill myself and to leave the house and that I'm a disgrace. It's just so hard for me and my mother. I can tell that she loves me somewhere deep inside of her soul, but she doesn't have the courage to calm my father down. The only saving grace in all of this is Rowan. We talk constantly on the phone about everything and anything. He's been really cryptic about what's going on in his house. Whenever I ask him, he completely dismisses the conversation and changes the subject.

Today is the first day that he is actually coming to my house. Surprisingly, my father didn't say anything about it. It's probably because he doesn't even care what I do anymore. When he got in my mother greeted him warmly and my father looked at him and walked away. I guess anyone who is a friend of mine is just as bad as me. We went up to my room, and he admired my decorations. Then we both sat down on the bed and started talking. After a while, he asked me, "What is your story?" I was confused by the question at first because nobody has ever asked me what I have gone through. Even if anybody had asked me, I probably would have never told them. But, Rowan was different. I felt like I could trust him. So, I just started talking.

I said, "My name is Parker Vonnor and I've had one hell of a ride through life. I was born way too early and all of the doctors said that I was most likely going to die. My mother was very sad about this, but my father didn't mind. It was an accidental pregnancy, so if I died it would be beneficial to him." Rowan looked at me with wide eyes and I continued, "I know that that sounds really bad, and it is, but that is just the way that he is. He doesn't think about anyone else but himself. Anyways, I ended up surviving and my mother called me a miracle. When I was five, I started to have these crazy hallucinations all the time about everybody burning. When I was out on the town, it was absolutely terrifying to me. Everybody seemed like they were on fire, but nobody was in pain. After a while, I got scared of my mother and father, especially at night when I would have nightmares and I only had more nightmares to return to in the real world. Then, the screaming started from the people who were burning. This started to send a red flag in my parents' minds, and when they took me to a doctor, they said I had schizophrenia. Then, when my parents were talking to the doctor, I lost control of my limbs, and I couldn't control my movements. They had to drug me in order for me to stop going crazy. When I woke up, I was in a padded white room with a nurse standing next to me. I couldn't hear anything, but I could tell that she was saying that it was going to be ok. I stayed in that asylum for years with the same nurse telling me that it was going to be ok. I was there for 12 years, going to school and being stuck with my own problems without any familial support. My mother was the only one who came to visit me. Even then, she rarely came. I had just gotten released before the junior year of high school started. My father has been so neglectful towards me and my mother. And now I'm here telling you my story. So, yeah..."

I looked back at Rowan's eyes and they were filled with pity, which I hated. I hated bringing other people down with my problems. I hated being felt bad for all the time because I'm not strong enough to deal with my emotions by myself. I hated being looked at with eyes that said, "Wow. That kid has such a horrible life. I can't even imagine what he is going through." I just hate all of these thoughts going over and over in my head constantly like a merry-go-round. It's tiring. I left out the part of me being gay because I didn't want it to become awkward between us. I didn't know if he was gay, and if he was straight, he would probably drift away from me slowly. He would think that I'm after him and be disgusted by me. I was too scared to tell him.

After what seemed like a moment of infinite silence, I said, "What's your story?"

"My story," he said, "is a long one."