Once Upon a Time, There Was a Boy Named Aaron

'The Beginning'

!!TRIGGER WARNINGS - MENTION OF ABUSE, HOMOPHOBIA,SEMI-GRAPHIC BLOOD, AND ABANDONMENT!!
'If these things trigger you, Please, turn away, and do not continue to read onward. This story, from here on, will contain somewhat graphic descriptions of abuse, and homophobia, as well as worse things further into the chapters and storyline of this character.

For it to be known, this character belongs to me. 

For those willing to continue with this story, you have been warned.'  

Born to Kary and Randy Williams. Aaron was a bubbling bouncing baby boy. Happy, full of life, could never fail to bring a smile to anyone's face! By the age of 2, he'd figured out how to walk. By the age of 5, he'd learned to read. By the age of 7, oh boy, did he learn something. 

He learned that not everyone loved him like his father. His mother had beat him, for playing to loud in his playroom. He's a child, how is he supposed to know how loud he's being?! His mother was just mental, shouting, throwing, kicking. She kicked him in the stomach, forcing the small child to keel over in pain. His father had come home from work later to find his son hiding in a bush outside, crying his little eyes out, with a bloody nose and broken wrist. When his father had asked him what had happened, he could only get out one thing. "Mummy. ."  

After that, his father became a 'Stay-At-Home' dad, fearing for his son's life after hearing what his wife had done. He'd made a promise to both Aaron, and himself, that he'd give him at least a semi-normal childhood, playing catch, going for bike rides, reading bedtime stories, having those 'Man-To-Man' talks, pretending to be a scary dragon. Aaron loved his dad, so much so that he'd scream it from the roof tops if he had too. He loved his dad, so, So much. 

Needless to say, he was broken when he passed away. 

Aaron was just 10 years-old when his father passed away, he knew his dad was sick, he just didn't know how bad. He passed in the hospital, Aaron getting to get one last 'I love you' and kiss on the forehead from his favorite person on the planet. He was a wreck for a long time, refusing to go to school, refusing to leave his room, he just let himself sob and hiccup for hours on end. When he had to go to the funeral, he didn't even look at his mother. She didn't even shed a Tear. Not a single one.

He didn't even know how worse his life would get from here.

When Aaron turned 14 years-old, he'd met someone like him at school one day, who he might've had a crush on, but he'd never tell that to anybody. 

His name was Nicholas, Nicholas Ebony. A 16 year-old highschooler at his school, he was tall, had dark brown hair, blue eyes, and the cutest baby face you'd ever see on a highschooler. They were fairly good friends, having been introduced to him by his friend Jeremy Rainer, a 15 year-old, who everybody calls Jerm. Nick and Jerm were good friends, as close as brothers. Aaron had sometimes caught Nick flirting with him, which his response would be blushed stutters and frantic thoughts. 

After a few weeks, Aaron had asked Jerm to help him ask out Nicholas, he did and it went great. They got lunch, visited Nick's house, played some videogames, and things started off really well. They both loved each other so much Jerm became a third-wheel. He started to notice small changes in Nick, a shortened temper, bags under his eyes, he was snapping more. But he just tried to ignore it, as Nick wouldn't say or do anything to him or Jerm, so, he was probably just stressed? 

Oh, if only he knew.

By 15 years-old, Aaron had been a fairly happy kid, despite his mother's yelling and threats to beat him. He'd been walking home from Nick's house, it was a little later then he was supposed to get home but, it wouldn't hurt, right? He stepped up to his house, and unlocked the door, slipping inside. Only to hear his mother shout and he mentally built up a wall.

"AARON WILLIAMS, WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?" His mother shouted, holding a glass of water.

"Umh, out? With Nick?"  He said, looking a bit confused, what had he done now?

"REALLY?  WITH YOUR 'BOYFRIEND'? AT THIS HOUR?" His mother snapped, some water spilling over the top of the glass.

"Uh, yeah? It's only 10 o'clock, no big deal."  He said, hands in his bright red hoodie pockets.

"NO BIG DEAL? I GAVE YOU A TIME, AND YOU FAILED TO STAND BY IT!" His mother shouted, glass near breaking with her grip on it.

"I just got here a few minutes late, chill out, please!" He said, raising his voice a tad, hoping to maybe calm down his mother.

"CHILL OUT? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO CHILL OUT WHEN I'VE GOT A SELFISH, NO GOOD SHIT FOR A SON!" She shouted, throwing the full water glass at Aaron's head.

He ducked down, covering his head with his arms, hearing the glass smash and shatter against the front door. He felt a few shards bounce onto his back, not hard enough to pierce his skin, but enough to cause him anxiety. He looked up, removing his arms from his head, to stare at his mother. Her eyes, dear god, Her eyes. They looked like they were so full of fire, and hatred, and disgust. 

He couldn't remember the last time he actually feared for his life around his mother. He could feel himself shake as all the color faded from his face. He could feel a few tears prickling at the edges of his eyes, the red and blue ones that they were, with bits of flaked gold in the blue. His mother hated him, yes. But she's never. . Shown Disgust towards him.

"YOU, BOY. ARE A DISGRACE TO THE FAMILY. NOT ONE, NOT ONE OF US HAS EVER BECOME A FAG." His mother spat, venom sliding off her tongue. 

He stepped back, hearing the glass crunch under his black converse. Had he really just heard that? Had- Had his mother called him a fag? He started hyperventilating, a panic attack threatening to break loose at any moment.

"YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT, YOU'RE A FAG. A DIRTY, DISGUSTING FAG." His mother shouted, grabbing a bowl a throwing it at his head again. 

He ducked again, hearing the bowl shattered. He tumbled to the floor, one of his hands landing in the broken and wet glass, he barely felt the pain of the glass shards piercing his hand. Fear and adrenaline pumping through him as he stumbled back against the door. Glass pressing up into his hands. 

"WELL? ARE YOU GONNA BE A MAN? OR ARE YOU GONNA STAY A FAG FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE?" His mother shouted, grabbing another bowl and throwing it toward his head. 

He threw himself to the floor, dodging the flying bowl by an inch before it smashed into the door. 

"MOM, WHAT THE HELL, STOP IT!" He shouted, stumbling to his feet as he did so. Shaking out of fear and anxiety.

His mother began to throw plates, more glasses, and bowls at him. He dodged most of them, getting hit the a glass or bowl here and there. She then threw a chair at him, a literal Chair. She sent flying across the room towards him, she missed, the chair smashing into the wall next to him. Enough force to send splinters shooting into one of his arms, he was near tears at this point. Flailing and shouting back at his mother.

"Get out." His mother said, face as stern and stiff as a statue's. 

"Huh?" He said, thinking he hadn't heard him mother right.

"I said. GET. OUT." She said, spitting venom as she said that. Seeing her son flinch knowing she wasn't joking.

He looked horrified, breathing short breathes as he tiptoed closer to a full on panic attack. His mother rushed away to his room, taking an old backpack with his name on it, and shoving most of his belongings inside it, clothes, toothbrush, blankets, stuffed animals, and whatever else would fit. He watched her stomp back into the room. She threw the backpack at him, him barely catching it, then stomped up next to him, and opened the door.

"GET." She said, shoving him backwards. "OUT." She said, shoving him out the door, voice thick with hate and disgust.

"But- M-Mom!" He tried to say, before the door was slammed in his face, sending him backwards onto the pavement. Nose and lip gushing blood, dripping down his face as he clutched the worn backpack tightly. 

He picked himself up, throwing the backpack over his shoulder, he stepped back from the house he once called 'Home.' He turned away, glancing back every so often as he began to run away, tears beginning to fall from his eyes. Street lights bouncing off of the red and blue colors spheres as he ran, which were slowly starting to glisten with tears. 


He ran until he couldn't see the house, wasn't on the same street, and was somewhere where he could be safe, comforted, and loved-

He ran to his boyfriend's house.






'Continued in next chapter'