Choices (South Park) {Craig Tucker}

Chapter 1

I stare at the clothes laid out on my desk and sigh. I'm sixteen now, yet my mum still sets out my clothes for school. It's stupid, really. It is. But it's better than her being an uncaring alcoholic, I guess.

Anyway, it's not like the outfit is terrible. Slipping out of my pyjama shirt, I slide into a freshly washed, plain black tee and struggle into skinny jeans that are far too tight. I've definitely put on weight, but it's not a bad thing when you're practically a walking skeleton.

The problem then occurs with my mother picking out my clothing. Laid aside a thick coat, a woolly hat that just screams 'bully me'. I stare at the yellow pom-pom, scrutinising my mother's decision of buying me such an item of clothing. As I pick it up and feel the texture of thick wool, it smells new.

Now I have to wear it. If I go downstairs without it, she'll comment. And when she comments, I'll feel bad because I'm not a bastard. Sighing, I hold the thing by its braided strings and stand in front of my mirror.

Well, in reality, I have to lift the heavy shit from the floor and balance it atop my set of drawers. But then I have to add a few books underneath it, just for extra height, because even atop my drawers I can't see my whole reflection.

I'm too damn tall.

When it's perfect, it must be perfect, I run a lazy hand through my hair. Dyed black because blond is generic and ugly on me, it falls in my face: too long. I hum in thought. A new town, a new haircut?

Nah.

I've already gone through enough change in the past twenty four hours; no need for anymore.

I pull the hat on, tucking as much hair under it as I can. It makes me look like a total idiot. The hair at my nape looks longer, almost mullet like and I cringe. But my mum bought it, and I will wear it.

Even if I'll get mercilessly bullied for doing so.

Pulling on the coat, I fill it's pockets with my phone, headphones and some gloves. Just in case. I'm not exactly used to the cold.

After doing generic bathroom tasks, brushing my teeth and pissing, I'm ready to just walk out and not interact with any of my family.

Not that I hate them. Not that I especially like them either.

They're just... embarrassing?

I was outed to them both around three months ago, and now they're blindingly supportive. They brag and brag and brag, claiming that we're such a modern family with a homosexual son. They ask questions, too many questions.

My dad has to be the worst.

He constantly bothers me, asking if I've got a boyfriend or if I find some guy attractive. He'll tease and annoy if I talk to anyone who is the same sex, and then warn any girls who even try to talk to me off by exclaiming that I'm 'flaming' and that they 'don't have a chance'.

Actual quotes from my actual father.

But, again, it's better than abuse and hatred.

I sound privileged and ungrateful. But it's probably because I am.

Unfortunately, I get noticed trying to slip out the door.