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Hey y'all i'm seeing that some of yall been leaving votes and while that 'd  usually b xtremely appreciated it's rlly not appreciated with this in particular if if y'all could like,,, not do that it'd b great thanks in advance enjoy

Maybe if I pray hard enough I'll die. He thinks, staring out into the street as his dad drives him home. Good things usually happen when I pray for them, why can't they happen now?

It's been a while some he'd let himself fall into this line of thinking again.

He'd gotten into a fight with his mother. Rarely ever happens. A bit of talking back, and his mom decided he wasn't normal. Now she thinks he's a freak, along with every one of his friends. He can't let himself get angry, though. There's already enough anger in his older brother for the both of them. It shows in the hole he punched in the middle of the wall of their entryway.

It wasn't always like this. Except it was. Sure, maybe there wasn't always a sharp, jabbing pain in his chest that sparked up at random times, and maybe his dad used to have a good job before he got laid off. He had always felt afraid, though. He had always been blamed for everything. He had never really felt wanted.

He remembers, back when he was little, the little stick figures he would draw of how his family would react if he ended up dead. His parents always seemed happy. His brother was the only one that had, and will, ever care. He remembers things like that. The same way he remembers when his mother slammed his head against the edge of his computer. His nose was swollen up for hours.

The worst part was that they don't even drink. They didn't do anything like that. They knowingly neglected him. They knowingly beat him and his brother, only ever on bad days now, but it still stands. They knowingly dictated his entire life, who he could and couldn't hang out with. They stopped doing that when he hit grade seven.

The watching him get changed hadn't stopped, though it barely ever happened. Only because he would yell until his mother went away.

He's watching his dad drop him off at home and drive away. Probably back to the church to go pray. He spends more time there than anywhere else.

His mother asked him today what was wrong with his face. Well fuck, he didn't fucking know. It's not like he could see it.

His mother (always claiming to know what's best) seemed to have a problem with all his features. Not skinny enough, not tall enough, too much acne, hair's too short. ("You don't want to look like a boy, do you?") He didn't see how not buying him his vitamins was going to do anything to help that. Especially since the doctors said he needed them. Oh, but the cure for anemia is definitely sleeping.

The most she's done to help him is tell him the cramps he's been having were probably not period cramps, and to see if there were any lumps in the left of his abdomen the next time he got them. And then what?

He's looking at himself in the bathroom. He's made peace with the way he sometimes feels like a 'she' or a 'they'. Genderfluid. He's accepted it. He's moved on. Why can't everyone else?

He remembers the summer before grade eight. Back when his mom found out that he wasn't a 'she', and that he had a girlfriend. He was grounded for months after that.

His mother's still holding it over his head and it's been years since then. Blackmail for when he's especially pissed her off. ("Do you want me to tell your father?")

He considers briefly texting his friends. Talking to them about how he feels. He decides against it. He doesn't want to bother Kole, and besides, Evan's got her own problems right now.

He wonders briefly when he suddenly started feeling this way, like he wasn't wanted at all. Maybe he never started feeling like that. Maybe he always had. After all, his mother made it more than obvious that he was unwanted. With the glares whenever he used to open his mouth as a child, to the constant teasing, if you could call it that. ("Your acapella group sounds really dumb. You'll never succeed.")

Let's not forget the shit she said to him in general. ("Just because you consider someone a friend doesn't mean they'll ever consider you to be a friend.")

He wonders if things would be different had his father not cheated. He wonders if things would be different if his father hadn't lost his job. He remembers poor. Poor hurt, the screaming hurt. But during that time, his mother wouldn't touch him while he was sleeping.

If he could ever go back to any of the three times she's tried to kill him, he probably wouldn't try and stop her this time. (1. Knife 2. Knife 3. Choking) It's not like she would care. (He asked her once, that if he was choking on food during dinner, whether or not she would save him and she said a very firm, "No, I would rather eat my dinner." Funnily enough, he had ended up choking that night on a piece of corn. She laughed at him.)

He turns off his bedroom light. Then again, he thinks, she might pretend to care just to get the money.


i had 2 get this outta my brain lol 

well be back to ur regularly scheduled gay fic asap :)))

no i dont want to talk about it

xoSoph

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