Well It's Love, Make It Hurt

Franks POV
New town again, new house again, new school… again. I sighed exasperated, resting my head on the window of the car. We haven’t stayed very long anywhere. But my mom had finally promised we’d stay, and wouldn’t move anymore.

We finally reached a small two-story house on a normal-looking neighborhood in our new town, Belleville New Jersey. It didn’t look half as bad as I expected it to, since we didn’t have that much money. My mom pulled over the car in what would be our driveway since now.

“This is it, Frankie,” she said.

I opened the door of the car, climbed out and looked around. The small house was painted white, with a green roof. I turned around to the street to see the truck with all our stuff parked in the street, people starting to move our things in. My mom had already started carrying some stuff we brought in the car into the house. I grabbed the bags that were left from the trunk, along with my guitar case and walked through the front door.

“Hey Frank, put those in the rooms upstairs, mine’s the one to the left, yours is the one on the right.” said my mom, arranging some stuff in the small living room.

“Okay.” I answered simply, going up the stairs, which were right in front of me. I put her bag in the room to the left, looking at her room quickly, and then walked to mine, opening the door. The room is small, but it’s actually bigger than the last one, it has a window that looks over the backyard. Wow! We have a backyard! That’s something new. My bed was already there, near the window, along with all the boxes the rest of my stuff was in. I set the guitar case in which Pansy is held near the bed.

I decided to check out the rest of the house. At the end of the small hallway was the bathroom. My mom’s bedroom had its own bathroom. This house is way better than the last one. Than any we’d had so far, actually. I went downstairs, avoiding some dudes carrying my mom’s bed. The kitchen was to the left if you’re standing in the front door and the living room to the left. Or the other way around if you’re looking at it from the stairs, like I was.

I went to the kitchen, since no one was there moving stuff in. From the kitchen you can go to the backyard, and I did. I noticed there’s place for a grill or something, which we don’t have. I also noticed there’s a glass door to go to the living room. There’s a tree in the corner of our backyard, right by the fence. I shrugged and decided to go and sit there while our house was full of people.

I don’t like to be around so much people, it annoys me. Mostly because everyone looks at me in a strange, disapproving, and disgusted way. Well, everyone I’ve met in my life, except for my mom. She and my dad divorced because he hit me, and treated me like a freak. Which only made me feel like crap all my life, knowing I was never good enough. He’s homophobic too, but I didn’t learn that until I told my parents about me being gay.

My mom took it rather nicely, but he went ballistic. He’d beat me up since I could remember, but always on places I could hide, and warned me not to tell my mother, or I’d be very sorry. But when he found out I was gay, he started hitting me more, and everywhere, not caring if my mother saw or not.

At first she thought I’d been beat up at school, which did happen but not as frequently. Then, one day, she’d found me on the bathroom, crying on the corner. I’d broken the mirror, hating the reflection of myself. Actually, just hating myself completely. I told her everything that day. From my dad hitting me to the image I had of myself.

My mom came out later, I guessed it was time for dinner. She sat down next to me and sighed happily.

“So, what do you think?” she asked looking at the house, then back at me.

“It’s great,” I said, grinning with all my teeth “We actually have a backyard and stuff!” I added.

She smiled back “I thought you’d like it. You’re going to school tomorrow, it’s not far away from here.” She knew that I wasn’t looking forward to that, but she tried her best to sound optimistic.

“Oh," I answered.

“C’mon, let’s go inside to eat.” she said, getting up and offering a hand to help me stand up.