When in Love, Forced to Part

I was walking home, kicking up white chunks of snow, exhausted from school and life. I started to pass the golf course, and decided to just take a detour. I knew it wasn't good for me to procrastinate going home, but that bleak, ugly, shitty house just didn't seem desirable. I wiped the snow off of a nearby bench and set my guitar, in its case, on it and my backpack onto my guitar. I walked a few feet, then just fell onto the crunchy ground, burying my body deep into the white crystals, stomach up.

My coat was already getting damp, and my skinny jeans did worse to keep me warm. As much as it was uncomfortable, it was like heaven being able to relax alone. To get away from the hell called my life was a blessing. I began to make a snow angel, without too much enthusiasm, just wishing it could last forever. The movement of my arms and legs easily formed the snow around me. I felt like I had control of my life...for once.

The sun began to fall over the Colorado sky, enveloping me in peaceful night and shimmering, bright stars. I took out my cell phone, having four missed calls and one unread message. I sighed heavily and stood up, swaying a little. My body was aching and cold, all I wished for was to crawl under my blankets and sleep. I shook off the clinging snow, and picked up my possessions, walking the rest of the ten minutes to my personal rat-trap of a house.

It was about 6:30 when I stopped on my porch. My house was small, dirty, falling apart, and the eye sore of the neighborhood, just like I was to my family. I didn't want to go in, but learned you can't avoid the inevitable. I only hoped to escape unnoticed. I shoved the door open, seeing it only opened that way, and slid my body in.

I saw my mother barely conscious, with fifteen bottles of assorted alcohol laid innocently by her feet. The contents all drained into her. There was no sight of my dad, and I felt my heart rise. Inside was still chilly, seeing we had no heat... but I learned to cope through the years. I quickly jogged down into the basement, dropping my stuff onto the floor besides my bed. I went back up the stairs, and grabbed my mother’s blanket.

"Here mom, you don't want to freeze," I said draping the woolen blanket across her unmoving body. She gave me a look, a look that looked far away, but also grateful. I gave a small smile and turned to head back to my room, my Converse squeaking against the only bit of hard wood floor showing among the piles of bottles and trash.

As soon as I turned around, my gruff father was there, glaring at me. My mother simply looked from me to him, and then fell unconscious. As much as I despised my parents, and everything they did, I worried over her. I turned quickly to check her pulse and heart rate, and then my feet were grabbed, making me collapse to the floor.

I didn't scream, nor did I even struggle. My head slammed against the floor, just missing three bottles. I was dragged into the kitchen, where my fathers and my appearance scared the cockroaches and other creepy crawlers to hide. I was laid in the middle of the chipped tiled floor, and roughly punched in the face.

"What did I tell you about being late, Aiden Webbs?" My father growled, as I tasted blood in my mouth, dripping onto my tongue.

I didn't answer, and got another punch to the face. He started to cuss me out, swearing that if he could go back in time he would abort me.

"Are you still a faggot, you piece of shit?" He was sitting on top of me, making it even harder to breathe.

"I'm bisexual you dick head, get it right," I snarled sick of him calling me gay. I regretted even answering, a minute later when I was stripped clean.

My naked body was slammed against the floor repeatedly... as my father rambled on about how I was a fag and didn't deserve life.

"You still like guys? Well this is what they do, you worthless waste of breath!” He turned me over and began to hump me roughly, making my body fling back and forth and up and down. I felt blood leak out of my behind, and began to lose consciousness as his dick shoved farther. I didn’t let any tears escape from my hazelnut brown eyes. I saw my phone only inches away, the light from a recent text message quickly fading away, just as my hope for a normal life. He thrust harder making me finally break, letting my screams fill the quiet air. I screamed begged for mercy from the pain being released onto me for no apparent reason then the fact I was bisexual.

When he finally finished with his deadly chore, he slapped me and left my exhausted life form. I slowly rose myself up from the now bloody floor,crawling towards the basement stairs, every inch I moved sent shots of unimaginable pain coursing through my body. I slowly made my way there, grabbing my clothes and phone before exiting. As I entered the living room,my mom was awake but unmoving. She let a single tear escape, but did nothing else. I heard my father's car roar to life, as he left. He left as if nothing had just transpired. As if he didn't just rape his sixteen year old son for the thirty-seventh time. As if each time didn't get worse and worse, tearing me part literally and figuratively. Just off to go grab a beer with the guys, and chase after any skanky women who happen to pass. I felt sorry for them.

Eventually my mother's eyes dropped,shutting for hours on end. I knew she wanted to help but she couldn't. She was under threats from my father,just like I was. She was trapped in her own body from all the alcohol she consumed daily. I don't know how I began to feel pity for her as I just got raped again, but every time I looked at her my heart began aching.

I slowly edged my way down the stairs,into my chilly room. I went into my own bathroom and turned the shower on, letting the freezing water fall across my blood caked body. I then crawled out and began to dry myself with a worn towel.

Usually I would try to calm myself down and find my happy place by playing my guitar. But after tonight, I didn't have it in me. I shrugged on a pair of Pokemon boxers and crept underneath my covers, wishing for an easy night for sleeping. I left my guitar and backpack where they were before,and just threw my cell phone into the farthest corner, somehow wishing it take all my anger with it. Somehow, I knew not any object could sustain my happiness forever, or take away my anger. But what was I suppose to do? Right now, I wish laying down and dieing was an option.