A fathers love for their son.

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Three weeks after the Hillcrest party I sent a friend request to Winston on Instagram, but there was no reply. Maybe I did something wrong that night. I didn't understand what could have possibly gone wrong, but I felt more like myself than ever. I actually felt like my life was getting back on track. 

"Hey, screw up. Get your arse over here right now!" My dad shouted at me. I then finally realised that I wasn't living a dream, I was in reality. Since I started high school my dad had built some kind of wall up between him and I and shouted and blamed me for everything. 

It certainly was not a healthy family relationship. My dad worked all day to support my family and I really did appreciate that, but it was like he didn't actually care about me. It was like i wasn't even there in the household. It was like I was invisible to him. 

My dad certainly was homophobic and didn't support any of the community that was involved in it, which obviously made it harder for me to tell any of my friend's or family, because I felt like I wasn't going to be accepted anymore and always going to be judged. 

I was still scared to tell my family or what my sexuality was and that I was attracted to the same gender as myself. but i knew that it had to be told at some point in the life I had left to make thing's right. 

Shaking with fear of telling my father, I walked over to him. Straight away, I was given a death glare by him as I entered the front door and sat down at the table, opposite my sister, Estella. My mother noticed that something was on my mind, which made me get even more nervous to tell them as I concerned of what my dad was going to say or even do to me once he found out.

"Monty, what's wrong?" My mum asked me, in a concerned tone. I looked up and took a deep breath of air to try and get myself enough oxygen in my lungs to tell them all. Placing my hand on the table, taking a sip of water from my glass I then thought that I was confident enough to tell them all. 

"I need to tell you something. Something important." I said in a mild tone to make them all aware that this was a serious subject that I was going to be talking about. My mum looked at my dad, which made my legs shake and make myself take another gasp of air to help myself to not stop breathing, looking down at the table, facing the floorboards.

I looked back up, still shaking and my palms where getting extremely sweaty, I then knew that this was the time to tell them all. "I have...I um." I tried saying the words but couldn't bring myself to. Dad just looks at me and then says, "Bloody hell, spit it out!" 

Taking another deep breath of air I then went along to say, "I'm gay." The whole room went silent as I looked down at the floor, feeling my dads eyes on me in disgust. I then regretted everything that I had just said and started to get angry with myself of why I told them in the first place.

"What? Your some kind of faggot?" Dad shouted. I could feel tears in my eyes, but I did not let them go and back down from the truth. "What does it matter dad?" I shouted from the anger in my lungs that had built up. 

My dad stands up from the table, his chair being thrown backwards as he then shouted five words, which didn't surprise me at all. "Get out my house now!"

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⏰ Ultimo aggiornamento: Dec 21, 2021 ⏰

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