Paper Planes

The Closet

What was that sound? My fingers tighten around the small bottle in my hands as I peer through the slit in the door. I catch a glimpse of my dad's feet as he cautiously enters the room. He slowly crosses the distance of my room and comes to a stop in front of my bed. Earlier today I pulled out all the clothes from my closet and scattered them across the bed. I wait for my dad to question my sanity or call in my sister to ask her about my whereabouts. Instead, my dad lets out a heavy sigh before turning around and walking out.

There is a fire burning in my heart, leaving behind ashes that are suffocating me. Leaning my head back against the wall, I close my eyes.  All these years I just wish my dad would talk to me properly, something more than just "How was school?" Maybe if he did, I wouldn't be sitting in a closet. My throat itches and my eyes start to burn. Don't cry. Boys don't cry. I let out a small snort. Boys also aren't supposed to like other boys.

Wrapping my hand around my neck, I glance down at the tiny bottle I  snagged from my dad's room. I just want the pain to stop, to fall into everlasting darkness where I would no longer exist. I wonder if there is anybody who would miss me if I left. My dad would probably be happy about it, especially after he finds out what I am. How about Sam? Pulling out my phone, I scroll through my contacts. Sam's number is drilled into my brain but I'm hoping that I'll find something more in the list. I find nothing. "Sam?" I squeak.

"Hey," she whispers. 

 "Something's wrong, Sam," I say quietly. A tear manages to escape my eye and roll down my cheek.

"I'll be right there." I want to tell her that I'm fine, that she doesn't need to come but there's something inside of me that wants her to come. I toss my phone to the other side of the closet and bring my knees up to my face.

When Sam shows up she pulls her blonde hair into a ponytail and crawls into the closet with me. I know she had heard the rumors but I'm not sure if she knows they're true. "Did you see my dad?" She shakes her head, avoiding my gaze. I wait a few minutes before asking, "What's wrong with me?" 

"Nothing is wrong with you." She pulls the bottle away from my hands and gives me a small smile. "Look, I know it's hard. I get that but this," she shakes the bottle, "is not the answer."  I stay quiet as I look out of my closet door. 

"I wish life had a power button," I finally say.

"Just like you wish it had a forward and pause button?" she says while arching an eyebrow. 

Nodding, I rub my eyes. "I could skip all the bad parts and pause the good ones."

"But then you wouldn't be living, you'd be surviving. I think in order to fully have a life you need to live through the good and bad parts." She pauses and searches my face, probably looking for the boy she once knew. But I know she won't find him. "As for the power button, we don't get to choose when to shut it all down."

I want to ask her why but instead I mumble, "My dad's going to kill me when he finds out."

"So you thought you would beat him to it?" I let out a nervous laugh, seeing the truth in her statement. "I can promise you one thing, your dad won't understand it at first but that won't stop him from loving you. I don't understand a lot of people but that doesn't mean I don't love them."   

"So, what do I do now?" I ask, gesturing with my hands. 

"Accept yourself for who you are," she says with a shrug. "Ending your life isn't the solution and staying in a closet for the rest of your life isn't the answer either."

Closing my eyes, I let out a sigh. "Thanks for coming." 

"I'm glad you called me." She awkwardly steps over me to get out of the closet, the bottle in her hand making a rattling noise as she moves. Offering me a hand she says, "Come on. It's time to come out."

|| Author's Note ||    

Thanks for reading guys. I was worried that this story might be offensive. I was trying to put a positive spin on the idea of "coming out of the closet." I really hope I was able to do that.