He Never Knew

~ 2:34 AM ~

"Wake up. Wake up, fag." I heard a scratchy, smoker-like voice say. It could belong to no other than my mother. She started shaking me while I was still half asleep. I groaned and rolled over, pulling the thick sheets tighter around me. On any other occasion, I probably would've gotten up, but my bed was just so comfortable...

Mom apparently had had enough because the next thing I know, I'm being ripped out of my warm bed and thrown onto the cold hardwood floor.

I hissed in pain as my head made contact with the ground. I slowly started waking up.

"Want do you want?" I whined and squinted my sleepy eyes up towards my angry mother. My, My, she looks dashing at this hour of the day. Her graying hair was more than frizzy (to be honest, it looked like an afro) and her wrinkles were more prominent. Maybe when she was younger she was prettier and happier, but you wouldn't be able to tell with the way she looks and acts now.

Since she rarely has time to speak to me, I'm guessing whatever it is she has to say is rather important.

"Where's the other fag?" Wow. Mother was joyous at this hour. She seriously woke me up just to ask where Zak is? And as if I knew.

I comically looked around the room and then pointed to myself. "Are you actually talking to me for once?" My eyes widened in mock surprise.

My mother glared daggers at me. "I don't have time for your stupid games. I want to get out of your filthy room as soon as possible, believe me. But where the hell is your brother? It is 2 in the fucking morning and he's still not home."

As if you care, mother dearest, I thought to myself.

I sighed and got off of my dirty floor, almost tripping due to my whole wardrobe being out of my dresser and on the ground. I winced at the bright lights and rubbed the back of my head. I was trying to stall as much as possible, just to annoy my hateful mother. But with just one glance at her, I figured I shouldn't be messing around.

She had that 'I-will-kill-you-unless-you-cooperate' look on her face. Her arms were crossed and she was tapping her foot like she always does when she's annoyed. Having me and Zak as her children, she taps her foot quite a lot.

Even though she looked pissed and I knew I shouldn't be trying to make matters worse, I tried mimicking her stance by crossing my scrawny arms, too. "Do you think I know? Because of you, Zak hates me. We don't talk anymore. He could be anywhere. And truthfully, I don't care." I lied on that last part. Truth is, I really missed Zak and the times we used to spend together. Of course I wouldn't say this out loud, but at least my inner self knew.

She pushed me back down onto my now cold bed. Well it was better than the floor, let me tell you that.

"Don't put that on me, you cocksucker. If you weren't such a queer, you wouldn't have scared Zak off." It's funny how she's acting as if Zak was a sweet, perfect little angel son. In reality, Zak probably hated our mother more than I did. And I hated her quite a lot, but she was still my mother and still my 'elder', so I had to show some type of respect. "This was your own doing, Miles." She... actually called me by my name? Not some hurtful, cruel nickname? Maybe she actually felt bad by how I was always treated wrongly by everyone... But then again... Probably not.

I honestly don't think my mom cares the slightest for either me or Zak. And although Zak deserves everything he gets, this takes things a little too far. I know how hard it is to not have either parent in your life to support you and be proud of your accomplishments. And even though I know I did nothing wrong - because being gay isn't wrong - I guess I understand why my father left and my mother hates me. But they should both be a part of Zak's life, at least.

With those thoughts still on my brain, and my mother cursing under her breath, I finally went back to sleep.