The Queerest [🗸]

injuries 'n injustices

okay so it's come to my attention that weston = gavin = ben

***

I laugh.

I lean back against the marble counter, my chin tilted towards the sky as each laugh that escapes my lips wrought hell on my insides, which are burning.

I should not be laughing.

Not when bruises run up my torso, and the one on my left shoulder is burning into a purple color. Not when I feel the scratches on my lower forearm, or when everything inside me just hurts like hell.

The lacrosse team fucking sucks.

It's unsurprising, really, that they'd tag team me. Uncle Ben's smile is growing faint in my mind, with the words flying through my head over and over again. At least you fought back. My laughs morph into mangled sounds, chest heaving up and down.

Fuck.

There's a click of a door, footsteps making their way down the staircase, a sharp intake of breath.

"E?"

My dad stands there, eye wide, dark brown skin glinting underneath the moonlight filtering in. 

"Why're you home so late?" he rubs at his eyelids, hands tracing along the wall for the switch. Turning it on, his eyes flick over to mine. Then, they widen. He takes a couple of steps forwards, lean and tall unlike my mother's short stature.

I shake my head, hands dragging across my eyes, an attempt to prevent the tears from falling. But, fuck, they fall. Dad rushes over to him, glancing at me. He shakes his head, words a ghost, "what happened, bird?"

Bird. A nickname that never ceases to make me smile. Although, smiling proves a hard feet when everything in my body wants to give out.

"I just— nothing." My head shakes. "Nothing." A curse slips from my lips as a slice of pain cuts through me.

Dad's eyes widen. "That's not nothing, E. What happened?" A pause. "Who did this to you?"

I exhale sharply, Dad's eyes flicking to the bruises on my skin.  My head shakes, knowing that he isn't going to let this go. Not now, not ever. It goes back to when I was five, and a little kid pushed me off the swings, and my Dad reported it to the park manager, to anyone who would listen. Then, he dusted me off, placed a bandaid onto my skin, and took me for ice cream.