I always though it was normal. I grew up with three dads, who all loved each other equally. They babied me since I was an only child. Cuddling with them in public, or kissing them on the cheek when saying goodbye. But kids began talking about me. It started in fifth grade when Dad dropped my off.
There were a group of about four boys and after I kissed him goodbye I walked by and they stopped me. "Your a boy, kissing your dad is weird. Are you a fag?" I furrow my brows. "A fag is a cigarette, why would kissing my dad goodbye make me a cigarette?" A couple of boys around him laugh and he glares at me, then pushes me down. "Nuh uh, my dad says a faggot is a boy who likes other boys and thats a sin, if you like boys your going to hell."
I wince at the scrape on my hand. "Well my dads aren't going to hell and your a jerk. Also if you want to get religious the bible also says to judge not others or you will be judged." Then I walk off. That comment start a chain of bad reactions. People began talking about me, and some of the boys would hit me every one in a while.
Now in eleventh grade I've learned. I walk to school everyday, no longer have any physical contact with my dads, and avoid crowded halls and empty bathrooms like the plague. I know they worry about me, but I can't take more abuse than I'm already getting.
I sigh and walk up the stairs to my room after another long day. "Sweetie." I hear dad say and stop turning my head slightly. "Liam, your fathers and I need to have a word with you, go put your things away and come downstairs please." I gulp and walk back up the stairs setting my backpack down and kicking my shoes off.
I drag my feet going back downstairs, and sit at the table where they are. "Now I don't want any outburst from anyone, we'll have a decent conversation without raising voices or you'll deal with me." Da says and I nod with the others. "To start things off, Liam, why wouldn't you come to us about the bullying?" My head shoots up and I stare at him wide eyed. "I was getting your sheets to wash, I found the journal..." he trails off and I feel a squeaking noise come from my throat. "I...I'm sorry. It wasn't, I just..." I feel my hands begin to shake and tears sting my eyes. "Love, you should know you can come to us with these things. Now, I also found your blades and I'm very dissapointed in this. Harming yourself is not gpiong to help anything-" "I know! I've known since I started it wouldn't solve my problems but better me controlling the pain than those stupid guys at school...I can't...I can't keep up the act that everything in life is great and nothing hurts." I put my head on the table and squeeze my hands together to keep from shaking. "I was ten. Ten and that ignorant Keller boy made a stupid comment about me being gay because I kissed you goodbye. From then on my life has been hell and I...I honestly don't know how much longer I can do this. I don't want you guys to think it was your fault...I hid the bullying, the abuse, the panic attacks, the depression and the self harm because I'm not insane, I don't want to be thrown into some looney bin and left there. I'm so tired of being alone..." I don't know how much of that actually made since but I saw Dad and Da start crying halfway through and Papa's eyes widen. "Liam, your having panic attacks? Baby..." he slides his chair back and pulls me into his lap.
I curl up and sob into his shoulder. "We knew something was wrond but we though maybe you were just growing up. Your dad asked if maybe you were unhappy but we didn't think that would be true. I guess we just didn't want to believe that our happy little boy was gone..." Da says and I sniff. "Don't take me somewhere and leave me, please." I mumble under my breath and Papa nods and rubs my back.
"First we've thrown out the blades and we're not letting you near sharp objects until we can trust you again. Next we are going to set you up a therapy session, this will be both group and one on one therapy. One of us willbe able to go with you to group but you'll talk one on one alone. And we're changing your schools. I can't have you getting hurt anymore and I know the school won't do jack squat about it." Dad says and I sit up and nod. "When do I start therapy and my new school?" I ask and Da smiles at me. "You'll start your new school tomorrow, as I pulled a few strings with my cousins husband. Also the therapy will next week. Now I've made roast and everyone needs to eat." He and dad get the food and plates and such and Papa continues to hold me.
First onesot. These will be on fridays, ecery other week. Feel free to vote and comment.
