Set Me Free

I was her little play-thing. I didn’t want to be her play-thing. I didn’t want to be her anything…but she never caught on. It was sad how she wanted me to be there for her even though I knew I couldn’t; she just wasn’t the right girl for me…no girl was the right girl for me. Maybe that was because I wasn’t interested in finding a girl at all.

I wouldn’t dare tell her that, since our relationship was supposedly ‘perfect’. She used me and slept around with anyone that would glance at her…and I was supposed to pretend that I didn’t notice. She only stayed with me because her theory was that guys wanted what they couldn’t have. If I dared to leave her, not only would her father break my skull open, but so would mine. My parents are so strict and malevolent that nothing seemed to faze them. I could get run over by a truck in front of their eyes and they’d just turn away…and sadly, I’m not being overdramatic.

When I was only ten, my older brother had come out with the truth that he was gay and no longer wanted to run dad’s business…he'd gotten kicked out as soon as the words left his mouth. I’d never seen dad so angry a day in my life; there was screaming and pleading and then hitting on my dad’s part. I'd felt so bad for my brother, he was only fifteen at the time and really had nowhere to go, but my parents didn’t care. I still talk to him, secretly of course; if my parents ever found out, I’d be the next to go, but unlike Jorge, I had no friends to run to. Sure, I knew a lot of people and everyone seemed to want to talk to me, but I wouldn’t necessarily call them ‘friends’. Friends were trustworthy and honest and caring, these people were backstabbers, waiting for some unfortunate event to happen to you so they could turn their backs and laugh. They were all just waiting…

Jenny, my ‘girlfriend’, had decided that staying indoors, watching movies, was boring, so clearly, we had to go out…and where might you ask? The mall…indoors…again. She hadn't asked whether I wanted to go or not, because she honestly couldn't care less, she just dragged me by the arm and forced me to go with her. It had been the worst experience of my life, by then. She'd called up like, thirty of her girlfriends and I had to drive them all while listening to their high pitched voices gossip and whine. I wanted to drive off a fucking cliff, but I live in Beverly Hills (ugh), there are no nearby cliffs. My mother had been the one who had forced us to live here when I was two. I hate it! Everyone is obnoxious and tan! I wished I could break up with the Beverly Hills Barbie herself, who cares about dad right? WRONG! There was this deep rooted fear of that man that had been placed in me as soon as I’d said the word ‘dada’. I'd known what he'd wanted me to be and seeing how he'd treated Jorge for not being ‘perfect’, I’d rather not go through the same thing. But unfortunately, I'd found myself in nearly the same dilemma as he was over seven years ago. I find myself no longer attracted to women, like I used to be. I wanted to and no matter how hard I tried looking at them, there wasn’t the same ‘want’ that used to be there so long ago. I'd told Jorge this over a very discreet phone call one day while both my parents were out and he'd told me not to be afraid. He lives in San Francisco now, with his boyfriend, the one he’d been with since he was fifteen. They’re still madly in love with each other, like they were when they first met; I want someone like that and it took a girl like Jenny to show me this.

I hadn't even realised that we had reached the mall until Jenny was practically forcing me out of the car. I’ve driven her there so many times; I could do it in my sleep.

Watching as about twenty peppy girls posed and tried on various slutty outfits; I couldn’t help but let my mind wander to how I was going to escape them. I didn’t know what store we were in, I was dragged in before I got a chance to look, but the only things they sold were mini-skirts and tube tops…it was quite disturbing.

“Dane!” I heard my name screeched by the wicked witch herself. It was then that I realized that I’d dozed off on one of the comfortable plush couches they had. Jenny was glaring at me, way too thin with a too short dress on…or was it a shirt…I couldn’t tell. “What do you like, think of this dress?” She'd snarled through gritted, bleached teeth.

I didn’t like it at all…that’s what I thought about it. Jenny was borderline anorexic, so everything she tried on ended up looking terrible on her...but I couldn’t tell her that, now could I?

“It looks amazing on you, baby.” My voice held no emotion, but she didn’t need it to. All she wanted was for her friends to think that she had the perfect boyfriend. I hated them all. You have no idea how many times I have wished for cruel things to happen to them. I’m still wondering why Jenny is still with me. She’s that typical, preppy cheerleader you’d expect to see in stereotypical teenage movies. Bleach blonde hair, big boobs and the use of the word ‘like’ in the middle of everything. I would be labelled as your loner ‘emo’ kid, though I hate stereotyping. Sure, I didn’t have piercings in every part of my body, but I did have snakebites. My hair was black and choppy and covered my eyes…and basically everything I owned was black. Someone like Jenny should have been with someone like...James, the captain of the
football team or something.

“Dane.” She screeched in my ear again. I noticed all of Jenny’s friends leaving the store, multiple bags in hand. “Don’t fuck this up. Can you at least pretend like you’re having a good time?”

“It’s hard to pretend that I’m having a good time when all I can think about is shooting myself in the face!” I said, overly sweet, sarcasm leaking from every word.

Jenny knew that I didn’t want to be in the relationship with her, hell, she might've even known my sexuality problem...and that’s what she used against me. She'd known that I couldn't break up with her in fear of my father and she'd known that I didn't give a shit what she did, so she whored around and kept me attached to her for when she got bored.

I just about jumped off the banister when Jenny decided that the best way to show her friends that I was still perfect was to attach her lips to mine and vehemently shove her tongue down my throat. I wanted to whimper in disgust, but knew I couldn’t do that; so I had to act like I liked it. *Note to self – disinfect your mouth when you get home.*

After hours upon hours of forcing myself to smile, Jenny finally released me from her clutches and let me go home. I thought I’d get some peace and quiet, but boy was I dead wrong. Driving up to my house, I saw that both my parents’ overly expensive cars were in the driveway. My dad owned his own oil company and my mother owned her own chain of salons and spas; in other words...we’re loaded. Our house was obnoxiously the biggest on the block and my mother did that just so she could show off, no wonder I hated the woman. My seventeen nannies had been better mothers than she could ever hope to be.

As soon as I walked through the door, I was hounded by my mother. She was tall and has had way too much plastic surgery and Botox. Her heels were legitimately the length of a full 12" ruler, Lady Gaga wear and she was extremely thing, so much so that it was a miracle she could support her giant ego. Her hair had been dyed so many times over that all of the colors seemed to blend together to make a strange, blondish-green. Her lips held too much red and her eyelids bore so much makeup that it even surprised me that they could stay open for an extended period of time. All in all, she resembled nothing more than a cheap hooker in my eyes.

“Daniel Santon Jr., where have you been? I told you to be home right after school and it is now almost eight o-clock!” She whisper-yelled, signalling that there were guests I should’ve probably met earlier.

“Sorry, mom, but Jenny dragged me to the mall today and you always taught me never to say no to a woman.” I smiled, sickeningly sweet to her before rolling my eyes and heading up to my room.

“Young man, you are to turn around and apologize to your mother right now.” Oh shit...how I hated that voice...my father.

Daniel Santon the first was the most cruel man I have ever met. He didn’t have to use physical violence to cut a person deep. His green eyes, mirror reflection of my own, were glaring coldly at me; he always hated me for some reason. I was too afraid to counter him, so I scowled while apologizing and continued my way upstairs.

“Get back down here, Daniel.” I hated the way he used my first name...it was the same as his. “Now, our new neighbours are in the living room, waiting for us and I want you to march in there and make a good impression.” He'd snarled.

By good impression, he'd meant that he wanted to show me off. If I ever got anything lower than an A in any class, he would hurt me, so ever since the first grade, I’ve been an A+ student, even though I barely understood anything teachers ever said to me. That was the only thing Dad liked about me, my brain. He wanted everyone to know that his son was smart; I was his little trophy. If he could, I'm most certain that man would saw my head open and just keep the brain; God knew he didn't want to show me off.

Grumbling, I stomped my way down the stairs and past my glaring parents. I felt my father’s hand make contact with the back of my skull, telling me to shut up and go along with everything. I hate my life. Dragging my sorry ass into the living room, I spotted the family in question. There was a slight woman, who stood up as soon as she saw me and beamed so wide, I'd thought it hurt her face. Her light brown hair was in curls around her kind face, she wasn’t anorexic, but she wasn’t fat either; she looked like a typical stay-at-home mom. She seemed quite nice and her smile was contagious. Her husband stood up beside her and you could automatically see the love in his eyes for his wife. He glanced at her like she was the light of his day before turning to smile kindly at me. He looked no older than 40. A girl stood up afterwards, no older than 13 and smiled sheepishly before sitting back down. Someone else was there, but he didn’t bother standing up. Probably just as bored as I was. Something told me he was dragged here against his will as well.

“Mr. and Mrs. Connelly, I’d like you to meet our son, Daniel.” My mother said in that overly sweet voice of hers that reeked of faux intentions.

The seemingly nice woman came up and shook my hand, still beaming.

After exchanging a few words that meant nothing to me, the people finally decided to introduce the rest of the ‘gang’.

“This is our daughter, Felicity.” The young girl sent another sheepish smile my way before turning her gaze back to her feet. “And our son Andrew, but he likes to be called Drew...oh, I think you two are the same age!” She practically squealed in my ear. The boy in question still didn’t look up. All I could see was the back of a head filled with semi-straight, black hair. “Our other son isn’t here, sorry, but since we live right next door, it won’t be long until you see him!” She beamed.

Talking to this woman made my jaw hurt, but it wasn’t long until I no longer had to wear the fake smile because Mr. Connelly said that they should get going since the ‘kids’ (Andrew, or whatever his name was, visibly tensed when his father called him a child) were going to school that next day and needed sleep. My parents didn’t care about these people, they just needed new people to show off to and gossip about. I had to escort them to the door...politely and wish them a good night. The mother gave me a quick hug; the father apologized for her eccentric ways and shook my hand, the daughter said a quick goodbye and ran after her parents and the guy...oh my god.