First Story :)
Title: Fear of God (Chapter 1/?)
Author: xxchardonnyxx.
Pairing: Vam :)
Rating: R for now
Summary: Eighteen year-old Ville Valo finds love in an unexpected place.
Disclaimer: None of this ever happened. (except for maybe in my fantasies.)
Warnings: Language, homophobia
Authors Notes: Wow, I never thought I'd be doing this. I got inspired though, and decided to try my hand at this writing thing.
My lungs were screaming at me. I was sweating like a pig, and I felt like I was either going to pass out or throw up. Rays of sunlight were cooking my pale skin. Days like these, where we were forced to run laps, made gym class much worse than usual, almost unbearable. I was definitely not used to the hot Pennsylvania summers yet; my body was more accustomed to the cool, gray skies of Helsinki.
Come on, Ville. Only a little over a month left in this fucking shithole state. Then it’s off to NYU and you’ll never have to see any of these assholes again. My attempts to motivate myself were so ineffective, it was pathetic. Then again, it was hard to concentrate on anything except the ripping pain in my chest.
“Valo, what the hell are you doing out there?” Unfortunately, I heard my gym teacher’s livid voice loud and clear through the pain, “Everyone else finished their laps already, hurry it up! I can’t stand slackers like you!” Apparently, everyone else had to wait for me to finish before they could retreat to the locker rooms to shower, change, and go home. Delaying dismissal made me even less popular among my peers, if it was possible. Being the quiet, nerdy new kid from a city most of my peers had never heard of wasn’t exactly something high school students appreciated. In fact, it pretty much alienated me and completely killed my chances of having any friends during my senior year of high school.
I could hear the snickers that followed my verbal abuse. At that moment, though, I was more concerned with finishing the lap and getting my breathing back to normal than I was with my image.
Finally, I crossed that painted white line on the track, and a wave of joy washed over me. I cheered inside, pulling my inhaler out and taking a hit of the sweet medication. My classmates, however, did not share my excitement, and I did not escape the walk to the locker rooms without hearing some snide remarks or seeing a few middle fingers. I threw a few glares their way, but it was hard to appear so callous when the worst part of gym was quickly approaching.
Showering after gym was a mandatory thing at this school, further proving my point that West Grove High was Hell on Earth. It wasn’t that I was uncomfortable with how my body looked; hell, I doubt that anyone noticed me in that dark, secluded corner of the vast group shower. I was uncomfortable with how my body reacted to seeing the other boys, all in their naked glory and glistening with soapy water. I was also uncomfortable with the thought of what those gorgeous boys would do to me if they found out I was such a raging queer.
On a normal day, I would just huddle as much as I could into my corner and shower quickly, stealing sideways glances at the muscular bodies surrounding me. However, a combination of the heat and the exquisite lacrosse player right next to me in the shower that day pushed my eighteen year-old hormones over the edge. I was mesmerized, practically salivating over his sculpted abs, tight behind, and long cock resting in between his muscular thighs. Fantasies of him pushing me against the tile wall and having his way with me flooded my mind as my eyes traveled over his flawless form. Looking up at the face that accompanied this perfect body, I found a strong, square jaw covered in light stubble, luscious lips that were slightly chapped from the heat, and two beautiful, honey-colored eyes staring straight back into my own green ones.
Oh, shit! I had been caught. It was pretty obvious why I was looking; my eyes were half-lidded, my mouth gaping, and my cock completely hard. Turning around quickly, I tried to convince myself I wasn’t going to get pummeled.
It’s okay, he probably was just looking at something in my direction, right? I mean, no one ever noticed me before, why should today be any different? I’m sure he probably didn’t even see me. Despite the comforting words, my body was still trembling with fear. My head turned slightly in the direction of the god-like figure who was probably about to beat me to death, and found that he was gone. In fact, everyone was gone.
See? I smiled to myself shakily as I finished showering, He didn’t even notice. You worry too much. Still, it had been a very close call, and I knew I had to be more careful. Pulling my shirt over my head and grabbing my book bag, I sighed with relief and walked out of the locker room. A tune that had been in my head all day escaped to my lips as I hummed and began my routine walk home. I had recovered from the fear of almost being outed, and was quite looking forward to the weekend. It meant I got to spend a whole two days away from the hellhole.
Suddenly, a small, hard object hit the back of my head, killing my optimistic mood. On the ground behind me was a rock, and it was apparently the object that had caused the pain. I looked behind me and saw the lacrosse player I had ogled surrounded by several other large guys. And all of them were glaring at me. Those honey-colored orbs had darkened to a shade resembling chocolate, and the beauty in them was hidden behind disgust, anger, and hatred.
My heart leapt into my throat, and my mind froze. The whole group of them was coming at me. Finally, my fight-or-flight instinct kicked in; I obviously couldn’t defend myself against all of them, so I chose to run. Weaving in and out of the various people on the sidewalks, my feet took me in the direction of my home. This was understandable, since it had practically been the only place I’d walked to since arriving in West Grove, but my parents seeing five guys chasing me and yelling “Hey, fag!” was not exactly how I planned to come out to them. The group of boys was gaining on me; they obviously had more athletic experience and ability than I did. Panicking, I made a sharp left and started sprinting through the thick trees that made a small forest behind my housing complex.
Of course, the adrenaline rush wasn’t going to last forever. Running through the woods and hopping over branches was more exercise than I had gotten in years, and it was finally catching up to me. I came to a stop and dove behind a large bush to catch my breath. Fast, heavy footsteps passed by, and I cried silent tears while praying that they wouldn’t find me. After waiting several minutes and hearing nothing but the wind rustling in the trees, I nervously crawled out of the bush. I leaned against a nearby tree, sighed in relief, and began to walk home.
My ease did not last long. Seemingly out of nowhere, the lacrosse player I had found so attractive less than an hour before appeared and pinned me against a tree.
“Thought you could get away, didn’t you?” he sneered at me and grabbed my shirt tighter. “You little faggot-ass punk, you’re disgusting.” Slamming my small frame against the tree, his eyes locked onto mine. He was a different person from the heavenly creature I saw in the shower. This man had an ice cold glare and an intimidating snarl that I never would have imagined on the face of the beautiful boy in the locker room. He threw punch after punch at my stomach, my chest, and my face. A sickening crunch accompanied one particularly painful blow, and the blood dripping down my chin confirmed that my nose had been broken. Delivering a final kick to my groin, he released his grip on my shirt, spat on me, and left me lying in the dirt.
Completely defeated, I remained in the fetal position on the ground. Tears of pain, both physical and emotional, ran down my cheeks, mixing with the drying blood that was already there. I knew I had to get up sometime, since my parents were probably wondering what was keeping me from being home. Right then, though, I barely even had the will to live. If this was how the world was going to treat me, why should I even continue living in it?
Okay, damage control time, my inner voice broke through the hopelessness spreading throughout me. Yes, the whole school will soon know that you’re gay, and were caught checking out one of the most popular guys in school in the shower. Who cares, right? They don’t even like you anyway. I sighed at my futile attempt to be optimistic.
All you have to do is make it through a few more weeks, and then you’ll never see any of those people ever again. You can start a new life in New York, and no one will ever have to know you’re a total fag. It’ll be like none of this ever happened. The idea of starting over was enough to get me back onto my feet. Despite the searing pain in my abdomen and my nose, I decided I should probably head home; my mother was probably worried sick. I gathered up my school bag and solemnly started in the direction of my house.
“Yo, faggy boy!” my stomach twisted as hateful voices reached my ears. In my peripheral, I could see the rest of the boys coming at me; apparently I hadn’t been down too long, since they were still out looking for me. I swallowed my pain and began to run down the path leading to my house. Although I could still hear the taunts coming from the group, the back door to my home was clear ahead. All I had to do was reach it and get inside before they caught up with me. I pushed my legs to run slightly faster; the throbbing in my nose was starting to affect my ability to move in a straight line.
Finally, my safe haven of the back door was only a few steps away. Leaping towards it, I smiled slightly and almost cried with happiness, grabbing the handle. I pulled it, my stomach dropping when it didn’t budge. I pulled harder, hoping that my first attempt was just too weak to open the door, but a few more tugs confirmed my fear: the door was locked.
I could hear the boys catching up; I had to act fast. Frantically, I hit the glass a number of times, screaming. “Mama, Mama! Äiti, Isä, anyone, please open the door!” Swearing under my breath, I braced myself for another beating, seeing as how the group was only a few yards away from me. Each step they took and every insult they shouted at me made my stomach sink lower and my heart jump higher into my throat.
Suddenly, the door swung open and a hand grabbed me and pulled me inside. The door slammed, and I looked up to see the fearful face of my mother, her gaze locked on the boys outside who had realized they couldn’t get to me. They retreated, getting a few more insults in before disappearing back into the woods.
My thoughts, however, were only on the wonderful woman in front of me. Throwing my arms around her, I pressed my face against her chest and sobbed, as if I were five years old again.
“Oh, Äiti! Oh, thank god you were here,” my words were muffled by her shirt, which I was staining with my tears and drying blood. I became incoherent as I wept, all my fear dissolving.
Mama hugged me tight, and then held me away at arm’s length, getting a good look at my face. “Ville, kulta, what happened to you? We need to get you to the hospital!” She began to move around the kitchen quickly, taking her phone from the counter and dialing. All I heard was rapid Finnish as she gave my father a brief explanation of what she saw, and then she was guiding me to the car and driving me to the hospital.
Several hours and a long, painful visit to the emergency room later, I was home, sitting in front of my parents with 10 stitches and a broken nose. The trauma of the afternoon had distracted me from the fact that I would have to have this conversation with my parents. Mama wasn’t stupid or deaf; she had heard what those boys were calling me. My health, of course, was her first priority. But once I had been looked at and was well on my way to recovery, she was now concerned with what had provoked them to hurt me.
Obviously, this was not how I had originally planned to do this. To tell the truth, I hadn’t really thought about how I would come out to them. The issue didn’t seem like it needed to be dealt with right away, since I was leaving for college soon. From the eighteen years I had lived with my parents, they appeared to be accepting of gay people. That topic had never really presented itself, since my parents didn’t know any gay people that well. But they had never expressed any negative feelings toward homosexuals outwardly, so I figured my chances of this announcement being taken well were pretty good.
That logic was not as comforting as one might think. I had been sitting across from my parents for about ten minutes, and none of us had said a word. My mother’s face was the epitome or worry; her eyebrows were turned upwards and she was chewing on her lip nervously. I was thinking of how to put my words together and staring intently at my hands. Both of us were shuffling around in our seats, awkwardly waiting for something to fill the silence.
My father was the complete opposite of us. His back was hunched and his arms were crossed, and his face held a blank gaze that was focused on me. He hadn’t moved since we had begun this family meeting.
I sighed shakily, and decided I might as well get the hard part over with as soon as possible. “Mama, Papa, I’ve been…meaning to tell you something for a while now. I suppose it’s pretty apparent what I’m going to say, but I feel I should say it anyway.” This was not exactly an ideal start. But the words were already out there, and I needed to explain them.
“I suppose I’ve been this was my whole life, or at least the part of my life where I’ve been attracted to people. I honestly tried to convince myself, even force myself to think otherwise, but I can’t deny it. Äiti, Isä…I’m gay.” A tear escaped my eye as the reality of the situation hit me. I had said it; there was no taking it back. Gay. The word hung in the air, almost humming with tension that was growing unbearable. I couldn’t decide if it would be better for them to break it or not.
I knew right before my mother started bawling that this news was not about to be taken well. My father’s intense stare locked onto my own frightened eyes. His glare hardened for a moment before he wordlessly vacated the room, swiping at a picture frame on the end table and knocking it to the floor.
Putting my head in my hands, I could feel an all-too-familiar tightening in my chest. It was not the time for another asthma attack, though. Taking a few deep breaths to calm myself, I rose from my seat and followed my father into the living room. Apprehension gripped me as I arrived in the doorway and surveyed the scene in front of me. My father was standing completely still, his back toward me as he looked out the front window. I noticed the cup of scotch in his right hand, and the bottle resting on top of the piano next to him. This was not a good sign.
Swallowing hard, I willed myself to face him. “Papa…” I began, but his low, flat voice cut me off.
“What did we do to deserve this, Ville?” his eyes never moved from the window as he spoke. “We gave you a good home, loving parents…we spoiled you, spoiled you fucking rotten!” He slammed the glass down so hard I was surprised it didn’t break. “And now you do this to us. Just look at your mother, look how much you’ve hurt her!” Mama was still sobbing behind me, and my heart broke even more.
“What did your mother ever do to you, besides love you endlessly? How could you put her through this agony? You fucking goddamned fag!” He turned around abruptly and seared me with a look that sent a shiver through me.
His painful glare returned to a cold, void expression. “Ten minutes.” The look on my face must have given away my confusion, and he elaborated, “You have ten minutes to pack up all of your shit and get the hell out of my house.” The lack of emotion in his voice petrified me more than any anger would have, so I immediately ran upstairs to my room. Fear took hold of me, and my mind was empty as I picked up some clothes, my cherished Black Sabbath CD, and the money I had been saving from my job as a busboy to buy a laptop, stuffing them all in a duffel bag. Grabbing my trench coat, I headed back down the stairs, only two minutes remaining from my father’s threat. Hateful silence awaited me back in the living room as my father stood still, watching me approach the door.
I opened it, walking right outside, and my father appeared in the doorway behind me. I turned around, and tried a last, desperate attempt at getting forgiveness. “Papa, what are you doing? You love me, I’m your son.” Those last few words were difficult to say; my voice was choking up.
His face held nothing but a dead, icy stare and he looked me straight in the eyes. “I have no son.”
With that, he slammed the door in my face, erasing me from the family.
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Tell me what you think. I promise to take con crit without crying if you say something bad. :)
Author: xxchardonnyxx.
Pairing: Vam :)
Rating: R for now
Summary: Eighteen year-old Ville Valo finds love in an unexpected place.
Disclaimer: None of this ever happened. (except for maybe in my fantasies.)
Warnings: Language, homophobia
Authors Notes: Wow, I never thought I'd be doing this. I got inspired though, and decided to try my hand at this writing thing.
My lungs were screaming at me. I was sweating like a pig, and I felt like I was either going to pass out or throw up. Rays of sunlight were cooking my pale skin. Days like these, where we were forced to run laps, made gym class much worse than usual, almost unbearable. I was definitely not used to the hot Pennsylvania summers yet; my body was more accustomed to the cool, gray skies of Helsinki.
Come on, Ville. Only a little over a month left in this fucking shithole state. Then it’s off to NYU and you’ll never have to see any of these assholes again. My attempts to motivate myself were so ineffective, it was pathetic. Then again, it was hard to concentrate on anything except the ripping pain in my chest.
“Valo, what the hell are you doing out there?” Unfortunately, I heard my gym teacher’s livid voice loud and clear through the pain, “Everyone else finished their laps already, hurry it up! I can’t stand slackers like you!” Apparently, everyone else had to wait for me to finish before they could retreat to the locker rooms to shower, change, and go home. Delaying dismissal made me even less popular among my peers, if it was possible. Being the quiet, nerdy new kid from a city most of my peers had never heard of wasn’t exactly something high school students appreciated. In fact, it pretty much alienated me and completely killed my chances of having any friends during my senior year of high school.
I could hear the snickers that followed my verbal abuse. At that moment, though, I was more concerned with finishing the lap and getting my breathing back to normal than I was with my image.
Finally, I crossed that painted white line on the track, and a wave of joy washed over me. I cheered inside, pulling my inhaler out and taking a hit of the sweet medication. My classmates, however, did not share my excitement, and I did not escape the walk to the locker rooms without hearing some snide remarks or seeing a few middle fingers. I threw a few glares their way, but it was hard to appear so callous when the worst part of gym was quickly approaching.
Showering after gym was a mandatory thing at this school, further proving my point that West Grove High was Hell on Earth. It wasn’t that I was uncomfortable with how my body looked; hell, I doubt that anyone noticed me in that dark, secluded corner of the vast group shower. I was uncomfortable with how my body reacted to seeing the other boys, all in their naked glory and glistening with soapy water. I was also uncomfortable with the thought of what those gorgeous boys would do to me if they found out I was such a raging queer.
On a normal day, I would just huddle as much as I could into my corner and shower quickly, stealing sideways glances at the muscular bodies surrounding me. However, a combination of the heat and the exquisite lacrosse player right next to me in the shower that day pushed my eighteen year-old hormones over the edge. I was mesmerized, practically salivating over his sculpted abs, tight behind, and long cock resting in between his muscular thighs. Fantasies of him pushing me against the tile wall and having his way with me flooded my mind as my eyes traveled over his flawless form. Looking up at the face that accompanied this perfect body, I found a strong, square jaw covered in light stubble, luscious lips that were slightly chapped from the heat, and two beautiful, honey-colored eyes staring straight back into my own green ones.
Oh, shit! I had been caught. It was pretty obvious why I was looking; my eyes were half-lidded, my mouth gaping, and my cock completely hard. Turning around quickly, I tried to convince myself I wasn’t going to get pummeled.
It’s okay, he probably was just looking at something in my direction, right? I mean, no one ever noticed me before, why should today be any different? I’m sure he probably didn’t even see me. Despite the comforting words, my body was still trembling with fear. My head turned slightly in the direction of the god-like figure who was probably about to beat me to death, and found that he was gone. In fact, everyone was gone.
See? I smiled to myself shakily as I finished showering, He didn’t even notice. You worry too much. Still, it had been a very close call, and I knew I had to be more careful. Pulling my shirt over my head and grabbing my book bag, I sighed with relief and walked out of the locker room. A tune that had been in my head all day escaped to my lips as I hummed and began my routine walk home. I had recovered from the fear of almost being outed, and was quite looking forward to the weekend. It meant I got to spend a whole two days away from the hellhole.
Suddenly, a small, hard object hit the back of my head, killing my optimistic mood. On the ground behind me was a rock, and it was apparently the object that had caused the pain. I looked behind me and saw the lacrosse player I had ogled surrounded by several other large guys. And all of them were glaring at me. Those honey-colored orbs had darkened to a shade resembling chocolate, and the beauty in them was hidden behind disgust, anger, and hatred.
My heart leapt into my throat, and my mind froze. The whole group of them was coming at me. Finally, my fight-or-flight instinct kicked in; I obviously couldn’t defend myself against all of them, so I chose to run. Weaving in and out of the various people on the sidewalks, my feet took me in the direction of my home. This was understandable, since it had practically been the only place I’d walked to since arriving in West Grove, but my parents seeing five guys chasing me and yelling “Hey, fag!” was not exactly how I planned to come out to them. The group of boys was gaining on me; they obviously had more athletic experience and ability than I did. Panicking, I made a sharp left and started sprinting through the thick trees that made a small forest behind my housing complex.
Of course, the adrenaline rush wasn’t going to last forever. Running through the woods and hopping over branches was more exercise than I had gotten in years, and it was finally catching up to me. I came to a stop and dove behind a large bush to catch my breath. Fast, heavy footsteps passed by, and I cried silent tears while praying that they wouldn’t find me. After waiting several minutes and hearing nothing but the wind rustling in the trees, I nervously crawled out of the bush. I leaned against a nearby tree, sighed in relief, and began to walk home.
My ease did not last long. Seemingly out of nowhere, the lacrosse player I had found so attractive less than an hour before appeared and pinned me against a tree.
“Thought you could get away, didn’t you?” he sneered at me and grabbed my shirt tighter. “You little faggot-ass punk, you’re disgusting.” Slamming my small frame against the tree, his eyes locked onto mine. He was a different person from the heavenly creature I saw in the shower. This man had an ice cold glare and an intimidating snarl that I never would have imagined on the face of the beautiful boy in the locker room. He threw punch after punch at my stomach, my chest, and my face. A sickening crunch accompanied one particularly painful blow, and the blood dripping down my chin confirmed that my nose had been broken. Delivering a final kick to my groin, he released his grip on my shirt, spat on me, and left me lying in the dirt.
Completely defeated, I remained in the fetal position on the ground. Tears of pain, both physical and emotional, ran down my cheeks, mixing with the drying blood that was already there. I knew I had to get up sometime, since my parents were probably wondering what was keeping me from being home. Right then, though, I barely even had the will to live. If this was how the world was going to treat me, why should I even continue living in it?
Okay, damage control time, my inner voice broke through the hopelessness spreading throughout me. Yes, the whole school will soon know that you’re gay, and were caught checking out one of the most popular guys in school in the shower. Who cares, right? They don’t even like you anyway. I sighed at my futile attempt to be optimistic.
All you have to do is make it through a few more weeks, and then you’ll never see any of those people ever again. You can start a new life in New York, and no one will ever have to know you’re a total fag. It’ll be like none of this ever happened. The idea of starting over was enough to get me back onto my feet. Despite the searing pain in my abdomen and my nose, I decided I should probably head home; my mother was probably worried sick. I gathered up my school bag and solemnly started in the direction of my house.
“Yo, faggy boy!” my stomach twisted as hateful voices reached my ears. In my peripheral, I could see the rest of the boys coming at me; apparently I hadn’t been down too long, since they were still out looking for me. I swallowed my pain and began to run down the path leading to my house. Although I could still hear the taunts coming from the group, the back door to my home was clear ahead. All I had to do was reach it and get inside before they caught up with me. I pushed my legs to run slightly faster; the throbbing in my nose was starting to affect my ability to move in a straight line.
Finally, my safe haven of the back door was only a few steps away. Leaping towards it, I smiled slightly and almost cried with happiness, grabbing the handle. I pulled it, my stomach dropping when it didn’t budge. I pulled harder, hoping that my first attempt was just too weak to open the door, but a few more tugs confirmed my fear: the door was locked.
I could hear the boys catching up; I had to act fast. Frantically, I hit the glass a number of times, screaming. “Mama, Mama! Äiti, Isä, anyone, please open the door!” Swearing under my breath, I braced myself for another beating, seeing as how the group was only a few yards away from me. Each step they took and every insult they shouted at me made my stomach sink lower and my heart jump higher into my throat.
Suddenly, the door swung open and a hand grabbed me and pulled me inside. The door slammed, and I looked up to see the fearful face of my mother, her gaze locked on the boys outside who had realized they couldn’t get to me. They retreated, getting a few more insults in before disappearing back into the woods.
My thoughts, however, were only on the wonderful woman in front of me. Throwing my arms around her, I pressed my face against her chest and sobbed, as if I were five years old again.
“Oh, Äiti! Oh, thank god you were here,” my words were muffled by her shirt, which I was staining with my tears and drying blood. I became incoherent as I wept, all my fear dissolving.
Mama hugged me tight, and then held me away at arm’s length, getting a good look at my face. “Ville, kulta, what happened to you? We need to get you to the hospital!” She began to move around the kitchen quickly, taking her phone from the counter and dialing. All I heard was rapid Finnish as she gave my father a brief explanation of what she saw, and then she was guiding me to the car and driving me to the hospital.
Several hours and a long, painful visit to the emergency room later, I was home, sitting in front of my parents with 10 stitches and a broken nose. The trauma of the afternoon had distracted me from the fact that I would have to have this conversation with my parents. Mama wasn’t stupid or deaf; she had heard what those boys were calling me. My health, of course, was her first priority. But once I had been looked at and was well on my way to recovery, she was now concerned with what had provoked them to hurt me.
Obviously, this was not how I had originally planned to do this. To tell the truth, I hadn’t really thought about how I would come out to them. The issue didn’t seem like it needed to be dealt with right away, since I was leaving for college soon. From the eighteen years I had lived with my parents, they appeared to be accepting of gay people. That topic had never really presented itself, since my parents didn’t know any gay people that well. But they had never expressed any negative feelings toward homosexuals outwardly, so I figured my chances of this announcement being taken well were pretty good.
That logic was not as comforting as one might think. I had been sitting across from my parents for about ten minutes, and none of us had said a word. My mother’s face was the epitome or worry; her eyebrows were turned upwards and she was chewing on her lip nervously. I was thinking of how to put my words together and staring intently at my hands. Both of us were shuffling around in our seats, awkwardly waiting for something to fill the silence.
My father was the complete opposite of us. His back was hunched and his arms were crossed, and his face held a blank gaze that was focused on me. He hadn’t moved since we had begun this family meeting.
I sighed shakily, and decided I might as well get the hard part over with as soon as possible. “Mama, Papa, I’ve been…meaning to tell you something for a while now. I suppose it’s pretty apparent what I’m going to say, but I feel I should say it anyway.” This was not exactly an ideal start. But the words were already out there, and I needed to explain them.
“I suppose I’ve been this was my whole life, or at least the part of my life where I’ve been attracted to people. I honestly tried to convince myself, even force myself to think otherwise, but I can’t deny it. Äiti, Isä…I’m gay.” A tear escaped my eye as the reality of the situation hit me. I had said it; there was no taking it back. Gay. The word hung in the air, almost humming with tension that was growing unbearable. I couldn’t decide if it would be better for them to break it or not.
I knew right before my mother started bawling that this news was not about to be taken well. My father’s intense stare locked onto my own frightened eyes. His glare hardened for a moment before he wordlessly vacated the room, swiping at a picture frame on the end table and knocking it to the floor.
Putting my head in my hands, I could feel an all-too-familiar tightening in my chest. It was not the time for another asthma attack, though. Taking a few deep breaths to calm myself, I rose from my seat and followed my father into the living room. Apprehension gripped me as I arrived in the doorway and surveyed the scene in front of me. My father was standing completely still, his back toward me as he looked out the front window. I noticed the cup of scotch in his right hand, and the bottle resting on top of the piano next to him. This was not a good sign.
Swallowing hard, I willed myself to face him. “Papa…” I began, but his low, flat voice cut me off.
“What did we do to deserve this, Ville?” his eyes never moved from the window as he spoke. “We gave you a good home, loving parents…we spoiled you, spoiled you fucking rotten!” He slammed the glass down so hard I was surprised it didn’t break. “And now you do this to us. Just look at your mother, look how much you’ve hurt her!” Mama was still sobbing behind me, and my heart broke even more.
“What did your mother ever do to you, besides love you endlessly? How could you put her through this agony? You fucking goddamned fag!” He turned around abruptly and seared me with a look that sent a shiver through me.
His painful glare returned to a cold, void expression. “Ten minutes.” The look on my face must have given away my confusion, and he elaborated, “You have ten minutes to pack up all of your shit and get the hell out of my house.” The lack of emotion in his voice petrified me more than any anger would have, so I immediately ran upstairs to my room. Fear took hold of me, and my mind was empty as I picked up some clothes, my cherished Black Sabbath CD, and the money I had been saving from my job as a busboy to buy a laptop, stuffing them all in a duffel bag. Grabbing my trench coat, I headed back down the stairs, only two minutes remaining from my father’s threat. Hateful silence awaited me back in the living room as my father stood still, watching me approach the door.
I opened it, walking right outside, and my father appeared in the doorway behind me. I turned around, and tried a last, desperate attempt at getting forgiveness. “Papa, what are you doing? You love me, I’m your son.” Those last few words were difficult to say; my voice was choking up.
His face held nothing but a dead, icy stare and he looked me straight in the eyes. “I have no son.”
With that, he slammed the door in my face, erasing me from the family.
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Tell me what you think. I promise to take con crit without crying if you say something bad. :)