6

I immediately regret everything I just said. Waves of heat flush through me and fill up every space in my body.

"You feel like you are being judged?" My father put down his briefcase and stepped closer to the table.

I felt overwhelmed. Like walls closing in on my tiny and immobilised body. I was trapped and just wanted to escape.

"Please don't do this, come on." My mother said.

"No!" he snaps his head to my mother, his eyes burning into hers. He slyly turns his head towards me.

“He needs to know what is right and wrong.” Quietly, the words escaped from his mouth and pierced into my heart.

What is right and wrong? What doesn't he understand? I'm fine the way I am. Aren't I?

"Now, tell me what you were saying to your mother!" With each word he slammed his hand down on the table, causing me to flinch.

Should I tell him?

I don't know.

He's going to rip me to shreds.

Fuck. Help me please.

"Come on!" He slaps my cheek. I place my hand over the area which becomes hot with pain. I hear my mother gasp.

Why wasn't she doing anything to stop this?

Was this even right?

Was he allowed to do that to me?

"I...d-don't...w-want to." I say, stuttering.

"FUCKING HELL!" He grabbed my arm and threw me off my chair. I wanted to cry. It hurt so much.

"Please stop." My mother pleaded, cowardly.

"No. This is your fault." He said pointing to my mother.

It's not a bad thing? I read so many books and watched so many movies. The parents are mostly always happy whatever their child's sexuality is. Why is this happening to me?

"I am always at work! You were the one who raised the fucking child! You should've done manly things with him or some shit like that! It's your fault he turned out to be like this!" His words cut through my mother, I could see it on her face. Why was she believing it was her fault? It's no one's fault! It's not even something for someone to feel like it's someone's fault at all!

I let my tears roll down my cheeks. Everything hurts. My arm, my soul. Everything.

"Oh my God, I can't fucking believe it! He's crying. Like a girl. Fucking faggot!"

Why must he say that?

"I can't do this anymore, I'm going to bed! Think about what you've done!" He yelled. As he went upstairs, cursing under his breath.

My mother looked over at me, however she had a stony almost numb expression. Like nothing had just happened. I knew underneath all that exterior, she would harbor deep regret and sympathy for me, at least that is what I convinced myself to believe.

Silence took over.

I wanted to leave.

Leave everything.

Leave my life.

Die.

Death is what I need.

"Go to bed please." She said, apathetically.

I got up. My arm was still hurting. I didn't say goodbye. I just left to my room. As I quietly climbed the stairs, I saw my mother cleaning the dishes. She just carried on. Just like the night before. She didn't even ask how I was feeling.

I entered my room and quietly closed the door.

"I'm sorry." The voice says.

"Why?"

"You will get through this. Just don't give up."

"I don't feel good."

'Let's take away the pain.'

"How?"

'You know how.'

"Xavier don't listen!"

'Xavier, it's your fault your family is like this.'

"It's not your fault Xavier, please."

'The only way, is to you know.'

"Don't, please."

'Go to the bathroom.'

"Xavier. Please. Don't. Do. This."

'It's the easiest way Xavier, do it.'

"Xavier please, write, draw, sing, don't hurt yourself."

'You've done it once before, now do it again.'

I get up and open the door. The sight of the blood is what I'm craving for.

'Don't worry, your mother won't notice. She does not care about you, remember?.'

I carefully walk to the bathroom. I get out my phone to turn on the flashlight.

'Okay, you know what to do. Punish yourself.'

"XAVIER DON'T DO IT!"

I pull the drawer out under the basin and turn the tap slightly, just so a tiny stream of water runs, to wash away my dirty blood.

I get the razor. I put it against my skin.

'Yes. That's it.'

"DON'T XAVIER! STOP!"

I break the skin and the blood trickles down my arm and into the sink. It feels better, but I feel horrible as well. I watch as it mixes with the clear water. The two liquids dance and mingle against the white of the sink before flowing into the dark tunnel of the drain.

The blood was gone. But I still felt heavy.

'Maybe one more to get rid of that horrible feeling.'

The voice was right. I run water over my previous cut, the blood washes away, along with the guilt I feel.

Here we go again.

"The boy with blue hair!" The voice shouts.

Oh my. His face materialises in my mind and almost banishes the evil voice.

I drop the razor, it makes a hollow metal sound as it drops to the floor, leaving the slightest stain of blood on the tiles.

'No! What are you doing?!'

"Yes, Xavier, would he want you to be doing this?"

'He doesn't even know you Xavier. He's not gay.'

"It doesn't matter, he stood up for you. He obviously doesn't want you to get hurt."

"Yeah, you are right."

'Xavier! Listen to me! He would kill himself if he ever knew you liked him!"

"No. Go away."

"Come on Xavier, let's get that fixed up." The good voice says.

I look at the cut. It is deep and raw. When I look at it, my heart sinks a little. I wish I could have stayed stronger just for a little while longer.

"That's going to leave a scar. Isn't it?" I ask, myself.

"Maybe. But that's okay, let's just make sure it doesn't get infected."

I grab bandages from the bottom draw and wrap them around my arm.

"Ow." I wince as the bandage wraps around the wound. I can feel the soft cloth stick to the moist, and raw wound I had inflicted upon my own flesh.

"It's going to hurt for a little while. Get some sleep so your body can heal."

I exit the bathroom and go to my bedroom.

After getting ready for bed I crawl under the nice warm blankets.

"Thank you for stopping me."

"It's okay. Let's sleep, tomorrow you might see the blue-haired boy."

I imagine his face. His dark chocolate eyes, which complimented his sky blue hair. I want to know his name. I bet it's the best name ever. I also could not believe the mere mention of his name had such power over me. The hope of catching a glimpse of him one last time, really had me cling onto life. In no way I have ever felt before.