Chapter 13

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~April 1987~
/Sarah/
I had managed to make it to Thursday without seeing my father once, him and my mom were doing long hours at work, so every night I had either gone over to the Menendez household, or they came over here. Me and Erik were currently laid on my bed, studying and working on homework. "Are you going to prom?" Erik asked, as I was finishing my Biology notes. "I'm a Sophomore, so no probably not, why?" I asked, looking up and twirling my pen. "Oh um I don't know, I just know that some of Lyles friends are going and you're friends with them so..." he trailed off. "Is Lyle even going?" I asked, going to back to my notes. "He doesn't want to but I think Dad is making him." He said, reaching over me to grab my highlighter. "I guess since it is senior year, he should at least go for a few minutes." I said, knowing Jose would never let either boy skip any school related event. "I guess." Erik said, pushing his glasses back up and focusing on his Algebra.

/Erik/
"I'm home." I yelled, as I closed the door behind me. I started heading up the stairs, when I heard yelling in the study. "Why is this so important for you?" I heard Lyle yell, and I could tell he was probably pacing. "Because Lyle, as my son, you have to represent me, and representing means showing your face at public events." My dad yelled, but I could tell he was trying to keep his temper under control. Something he never did with me. "It's not like I'm asking some ridiculous favor Lyle, why are you giving me attitude?" I looked up to see my mom also eavesdropping, my father and Lyle only fought in his study when it was serious. My ears perked up when I heard my name. "Why, are you scared you're going to hurt Eriks feelings? He's a fag, and Sarah needs a responsible man like you, I'm not asking you to marry her Lyle, just take her to prom, she represents this family better than Erik ever could, because he's a little boy who is a thief, mediocre tennis player and a little faggot." I heard a slapping noise and I waited for Lyle to run out, but instead he rose his voice, "Never fucking talk about my brother like that ever again." he stormed out and slammed the door, but by then I had already made it halfway to my room. I wiped the few tears that had fallen and laid on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I heard Lyle walk to his room, probably to cool down, which I was thankful for. I hated when he saw me crying. Why wasn't I ever good enough for my father? Why was it always Lyle? Maybe my dad was right, Sarah did deserve someone like Lyle. Maybe I was stupid for ever even thinking I had a chance with her. Sometimes I just wish I was dead.

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