Husbands But Not

9: Homeless

Kent

When I heard the door slam shut loudly, I knew dad was angry and tired. I wasn't ready for another one of his meltdowns, so I remained silent in my room.

He would come to check up on me. For some reason he'd always do that; a parents' thing I guessed. He could switch between model father and hellbringer seamlessly to a certain scary extent.

"Kent." dad yelled. I could hear his footsteps like they were being taken across my chest. He stood in the doorway looking at me, his eyes planted on the purple stain above my cheek.

"You got hit again?" he grumbled. My silence was more than the answer he needed.

He got closer and closer, and I stiffened as he approached me. I was no different than a piece of log.

"Listen to me, and listen well. I'm sick of having a weak wimpy faggot for a son. By the time I get back home tomorrow I want you out of this house, and I don't want to see you here again." I wished he had hit me like always and got it over with. What was I to do now?

"But where would I go?"

"It's not my problem anymore."

"It IS your problem. I'm your son." I argued, but it was in vain. I knew that when his mind was set to something, it never changed.

"Out of the house. Tomorrow. Don't try defying me." With that, he was out of the room and I was on the floor sobbing my heart out.

Where would I go? What would I do? No money, no job, no house, no nothing. I was fucking 17. I missed my mom. If she were here all of this wouldn't have happened. Dad wouldn't be alcoholic. He would never hit me or hurt me, not to mention kick me out of the house. She wouldn't let him. She would stand up for me. But she wasn't here. I had to take what life threw at me and smile because showing weakness gets you beaten up. Gets you pity. Makes everyone feel superior to you.

I had only met one person in my life who seemed different. He saw my weaknesses. He saw me crying, saw me beaten up. He didn't act superior, nor pitied me. He showed me kindness and care and tenderness that I've never seen before, and he didn't even know me. He was too pure, too gentle, too caring. An angel.

I woke up stiff as wood. My neck and back ached, and I felt so cold. I fell asleep on the floor. I rubbed my neck and stretched, then went to my bed. The clock read 4:30am. I still had about 2 hours of sleep to catch up on. I had to treasure those last moments I was having with my bed, because as of tomorrow, I wasn't gonna be able to sleep in it anymore. Fyckin loved life.

A/N: yet another short chapter, but it I promise the next one is bigger as it marks the 10th chapter.

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