I Don't WANT You [ 𝑀𝑀 ]

Chapter 18 - Flashback

Eight years ago

"Feliz cumpleaños, mi hijo"

"Gracias, mamá", I say with a big smile.

There's a cake on the kitchen table and my heart swells with excitement. I love birthdays — especially mine.

"My brother is finally 13! Happy birthday!", my sister laughs, clapping her hands.

"Gracias", I mutter, rolling my eyes at her teasing.

I should be even happier today. We're leaving. Soon, we'll be in Chicago, far away from papá.
He won't be able to hurt us anymore. A few weeks ago, he called me a faggot and beat me until I couldn't stand. I don't understand why he's so angry. I don't even know much about love, but I like boys more than girls. Why does that make me sick? Why does he hate me?

Mamá cuts the cake and just as she's about to serve the first piece, the doorbell rings.

"Who could that be?", my sister wonders.

"Open the door, hijo", mamá says. "Maybe it's the neighbors"

"Sí, mamá"

I run to the door and pull it open — then my whole body goes cold.

Papá.

His face is twisted with rage. I don't think. I just run. Back to the kitchen, straight to mamá, clutching her dress with shaking hands.

"You think you can leave me?", papá growls from the doorway.

"Sí", mamá says firmly, standing tall.

"You're staying here!"

"Get out of my house!", she shouts

"You're not taking my children!"

"Juanita, call the police", mamá orders my sister.

Then papá's eyes land on me, dark and hateful.

"This is all your fault, you little faggot!", he spits

My chest tightens. "No, papá. . . please"

"Get out of here!", mamá yells again, stepping in front of me.

Then the sirens. The flashing lights. The police dragging him away while he screams.

For a moment, I think it's over. I think we're safe. A few days later, we board a plane to the U.S. and I believe things will finally be okay.

But they aren't.

Papá calls mamá. I don't know what he says, but a month later, she and my sister are gone. They leave me behind. I end up in an orphanage. I never find a family.

I live there until I'm eighteen. Today, on my birthday, I finally get to leave.

I'm free now. Free and alone. But that's okay.

I have an interview at one of the biggest clubs in Chicago — The Dream's. If they hire me, I'll work hard, save money, and move into a better apartment. Right now, I have to stay in one of the special housing programs for kids who age out of the system. But it's temporary.

Just a few months. A little patience. And maybe, just maybe, I'll find something better. Someone better. Someone who won't leave.