Yes, I Am

Prologue.

June 12, 2016.
Sunday. 4:25 am.

"No! I can't! He's still in there. I can't leave him alone. Please!" I shout, tears streaming down my face with no abandon, my voice hoarse from screaming and crying, my insides numb from everything I have witnessed tonight. I want to curl up in a ball and weep myself to death. I want to run away, far away; so far away that even I wouldn't be able to find me. I want to hide somewhere the memories won't haunt me.

"Not without him," I whimper but the man in black hauls me out. He is a member of the SWAT team that has come to rescue all of us. The conspicuously alive ones, that is. The thing is, I don't want to be rescued. Not without Caleb. Even though he may be past the point of rescuing, I can't get myself to leave him alone.

I am given a sympathetic look as I am dragged out despite my protests, away from the bathroom that reeks of fear, trauma and death. Away from Caleb.

Sunlight hits my face like a flood of unrestrained waves, trying to drown me in its vitality when I feel dead inside. Even though I squint, I can't see anything. I stumble forward and two strong pairs of arms catch me. My useless blinded form is led to a sidewalk where I crumple down into a heap.

Someone asks me if I need water and I can only groan in reply. I feel a queasy sensation in my gut, like my insides are turning over like a cloth being wrung too tightly. I feel like throwing up, hoping it would burn the vile disgust inside me. I put my head between my knees and try to breathe but even the simple process of sucking air in through my mouth and letting it out seems complicated.

The images in my brain won't go away. I can see everything clearly- way too clearly. I can hear the gunshots echoing in my ears, etched in some deep corner of my soul like a permanent tattoo I can never get rid of. I see the lights on the dance floor, flashing ominously before the shooting begins. I see the wretched man pull the trigger without remorse. I see the bullet rushing towards me in slow motion, fatal and inevitable. I see it now and I could see it then. The only thing I did not see was Caleb dive in front of me at the last minute.

Hot tears escape my eyes again. Helplessness, anguish, heartbreak, loss- all rolled into one. I wish there is a way. I wish I can do something. I wish I can go back in time and swat Caleb's head when he suggested the idea of going to the cursed nightclub on that night out of all.

My soul is not satisfied that it has lost you.
My sight searches for you as though to go to you.
My heart looks for you, and you are not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees.

With a stroke of motivation, I stretch my neck up, scoping out the place to find a means to get help to Caleb. There are ambulances parked around the corner, tending to the rescued people who were injured during the shooting. People are milling about frantically, trying to find their loved ones. News vans are idling nearby, reporters giving back live feed of the tragedy at the nightclub in Florida. Police officials and SWAT teams are grouped together, probably discussing strategies on how to free the rest of the hostages inside, the ones still at the mercy of the shooter. The dead ones. The almost dead ones. Caleb.

A stern man who looks to be in his forties, in the same black uniform as the one who rescued me, walks past me. I jump up and grab the back of his windbreaker so suddenly that he jerks with a start, training a gun on me.

I quickly raise my hands in the air. "Please, you have to save my boyfriend. He's still inside," I whisper.

He softens when he sees my condition. Apologizing for pointing the nozzle of the gun at me, he says, "We're trying, kid. That's what we're here for."

"You don't understand," I say desperately, trying to make him understand. "He was shot. He is dying. He needs immediate medical care. If you don't rescue him now, he will..." I can't get myself to complete that sentence without choking up.

He ruffles my hair like I'm a little kid who doesn't fully understand how the world works yet. "We're trying our best. He'll be okay. I promise you."

Turning and walking away, he doesn't give me a chance to reply. He doesn't get it. None of these people here to help us can get it. They get to go home to their families, knowing their wives, children, parents are safe and sound. They're not the ones standing in desperation on a sidewalk, praying that the one bright candle in their life is strong enough to survive the stormy winds.

"Matthew? Mattie! There he is," comes a familiar voice.

I whirl around to spot my mother pushing through the crowd, Austin right behind her. They hurry over to me and for the first time in hours, I feel safe, wrapped around in my mother's arms, holding on to her tightly. She smells of expensive perfume and lavender and the unique comforting scent mothers have.

"I'm so glad you're okay. We were so scared. Oh, my god." She sighs in relief, squeezing me once before letting go.

Austin hugs me next. "You took years off our lives, you fucking imbecile. I feel like killing you."

I sniffle and hold him tight, something I would have been embarrassed about in any other situation. "Thanks, man. Love you too and all that shit."

He pats my back before he lets go. "Where's Caleb?" he asks, glancing around.

I feel my heart shattering all over again when he mentions his name. I feel like a failure. I should have helped him. I should have fought harder. I shouldn't have let him take that shot for me. I should have been the one unconscious on the bathroom floor. He should have been the one getting hugs from these wonderful people.

"Tell me he's okay," says Austin in a kind of a warning way.

My lower lips trembles dangerously. I don't have the heart to tell him. I'm unable to meet his earnest eyes. How do you tell someone that you left a man behind?

"Oh, honey. He'll be okay. Everything will be okay," says my mother as she takes me in her arms again. "Was he your...?" She leaves the question hanging in the air, inducing a bitter taste in my mouth. I have not come out to her yet. How did she even know I would be in a gay nightclub?

I glance towards Austin who shrugs. He was the only person who knew Caleb and I were coming here tonight. "The shooting was all over the news and neither of you were picking up your phone," he says. "I had to tell someone."

"Sweetie, why didn't you tell me?" she croons, smoothing down my hair.

I could have told her a million reasons why I did not. But I keep my mouth shut. Too much had happened that day already. I didn't need to add stepping out of the closet to the list.

"We're all here for you. It's okay. Tell me honestly, Mattie. Did you just come here with that boy, Caleb? Or are you gay?" she asks.

I freeze. This is the moment I had been so scared of confronting my whole life. But I had promised Caleb. If this was the last thing I could do for him, I would.

----

Author's note: Hey guys. Thanks for picking up this book to read. It's based on something that affected me deeply and shocked me to the very core. This is a story dedicated to everyone struggling to come out, everyone that feels out of place, everyone that has experienced hate or ridicule for not being a straight cis cliché. This for all those who have, and still are, suffering. Please vote, comment and leave your feedback. It is very much appreciated. :)