Always You

Always You

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WpMetadataReadMatureComplete Wed, Dec 3, 20251h 22m
"Why do you let people bully you? It's like you're just a pushover!" My dad grabbed me by my hair and forcefully pinned me against the wall. Fear consumed me, causing me to keep my eyes shut tight the entire time. He angrily punched the wall beside my head, finally releasing his grip on my hair and storming out of my room. If only things could be different. Enza was a quiet girl who faced challenges she had no control over. She had mild autism and although she excelled in school, she had moments where she would break down. Living with her family - her mom, dad, and two older siblings - Enza was treated the worst despite being the youngest. Her dad despised her for being different and treated her horribly. The only source of love in the house came from her mom. But there was someone else who truly cared for Enza - her best friend Jace. Jace was always there for her, supporting her through it all. she was a popular basketball player at their school, yet she never let that stop her from being by Enza's side.
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“Hey faggot!” I winced at the sound of the one and only star quarter back. He wasn't wrong, I was gay, but that word was just so offensive. I hated that I came out, hated the fact more than you could ever guess. It had cost me all but three of my friends, most of my freedom and every second that had been left of my childhood. When I loudly and discourteously turned down the prettiest girl in the whole school she screamed at me “what, are you gay?!” to which I decided to truthfully reply “yeah, got a problem with that?!” At the time I felt triumphant, giddy even and shouted at the top of my lungs 'I'm gay!' it had felt so good...but it wasn't worth the price I had to pay...not a week later I went from one of the top five popular guys to having three friends, had the shit beaten out of me at least once a week and went from relatively care-free to being the man of the house, a mom when mom couldn't be there, the cook the cleaner and the surrogate father three days later after I killed my father. I may have not been holding a smoking gun or bloody knife, but it was my fault he died all the same, even if the cops didn't see it.

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