In Love With My Best Friend...To Bad He's Gay

I listened hardly to what was going on downstairs. Silence. I got up from my bed as quietly as I could and slowly walked to my door. I looked left to right and saw nobody. I slowly walked down the steps and into the hallway downstairs. I turned the corner and gasped in shock. There lied my mother's corpse, as white as a sheet of paper, she wasn't breathing and she had red blood gushing from her chest. It was like out of one of those horror movies. I closed my eyes at the sight. It was horrible, only about seven or eight years old, seeing your mother lying dead on the hallway floor.

I almost screamed in terror, but remembered that my dad was here and he might kill me. I closed my mouth and covered it with my hand, to keep any noise from coming out of it. Thats when I felt the hot water running down my face. I was crying once more. I slowly tip-toed passed my mother's body and into the kitchen where I saw my almost stepdad, Henry, on the ground. He looked just like my mother, pale, wasn't breathing and the only difference was that blood was coming from his head. I gasped again as more tears fell from my face and onto his as I stood over his lifeless body, looking over every single detail.

Then I walked around my island in the kitchen. Of course, there was another body, without any signs of life. This time it was my father's. He was gasping for air, I could tell he was going to be completely dead in a few more seconds. He had the gun by his hand, I think he killed himself. I watched and waited silently until his shallow breath came to a halt. He had died. There was a loud, ear pitching scream. I soon realized it was coming from my throat. I haven't noticed how silent I had been seeing all of this until I heard myself scream like this. I had been to terrified, mortified, scared to do anything else before. Now I know it's safe and my father wouldn't do anything I kept on screaming for anyone to help me. I ran out the back door, never stopped screaming for help or anything. Until I tripped over a tree branch. I fell to the ground, hitting my head. My eyesight faded as I drifted out of consciousness.

After playing that horrible night in my head, remembering every detail perfectly, I finally came back to reality. I opened my eyes to see someone's shirt. Someone had their arms around me, giving me a tight hug. I realized then that I could barely breath. I tried hard to breath in and out. The person soon realized this as they let me go. It was the boy who had helped me with Steven. I noticed Steven had been taken away and I was now staring into those amazing green eyes of the handsome boy. Everyone in the cafeteria was now standing around me, even the teachers who were to busy having a meeting then to see Steven picking on me earlier.

I soon fell to the ground, pulling my knees into my chest and bawled. I didn't care if everyone was looking at me. I lost my mother, father and almost stepdad in one night, I saw everything that happened and remembered every little detail and I couldn't get it out of my mind. The boy soon got on the ground next to me. petting my hair and trying to calm me down. "Shh. It's alright. Shh." He soothed me gently. My sadness soon turned to hatred. "No! It's not alright! Nothing's ever gonna be alright!" I shouted at him. He stopped touching my hair but sat in front of me on the floor, staring into my eyes. I started getting angry with him for not leaving, for saying it's alright. I started to punch at his chest, anywhere. He just stayed still as everyone stared in amazement, teachers tried to get me to stop but he didn't let them. Soon I was to tired to hit him anymore and I stopped. That's when he wrapped his arms around me in a hug and I put my head on his shoulder, and I started crying again. Soon making his shirt drenched.

He stood up with me still on his shoulder, helping me up. He picked me up slowly and carefully, man he was strong! He brought me to the empty room that was used for the younger kids for their recess. Nobody followed or said anything. My friends knew what was wrong, they tried to come and help, but he wouldn't let them. He sat me on the couch, letting me cry until I could barely breath. He didn't try to hush me or make me stop, or talk to me. He just waited patiently. Finally I was finished crying.

I looked at him, confused. "Why?" I asked him. He looked into my eyes. "Why what?" He asked in that wonderful, calm and caring voice of his. "Why'd you help me with Steven? Why'd you hold me when I cried? Why do you act like you know me and care about me?" I asked. He looked deep in thought. "I saw the kid messing with you. I thought for a while he was just a boyfriend or something, but when he slapped you I got mad. I couldn't stand to see a boy slap a girl like that. I had to help. So I punched him. Then when I saw you crying, I didn't know why. My mom cries a lot so I'm used to it, helping people. I just did what I do with my mom and I guess it worked," He told me. I nodded my head, thinking to myself. After a long period of silence, not even awkward silence, he spoke up once more. "My mom. She cries because my father left us when I was born. He didn't want a baby and she didn't think she could take care of me on her own. It was hard for her, deciding to keep me but she hated the thought of me growing up with different parents, knowing they raised me and not her, she didn't want me to like another family and not her." He told me.

"If it's not rude to ask, why were you crying?" He questioned. I looked to the floor. I didn't notice until then that I'd been staring into his loving eyes the whole time. "It's fine, you don't have to tell me." He says. I shake my head no. "I'll tell you." I say. And I tell him the story, everything I saw in my head back there, of the night they died and how I know live with a foster family, The Beckmans. And how the woman wanted a child because she couldn't have one of her own. He just sat listening carefully to everything I had to say.