My mother was desperately attempting to locate my aunt who was meant to pick us up as I walked out of the airport, my suitcase rolling behind me. The airport was almost as crowded as the night sky. People of all ages scurried around the sidewalks, some leaving and others entering. I turned around to soak in the fresh, still air, automobile horns, and skyscrapers. It's a picture that refreshes me after driving on gravel roads and looking for safety signs to prevent a hazard.

I could feel my phone vibrating in my pocket, so I checked to see who it was and declined the call immediately. As usual it was my father. I took a picture of the surroundings and shared it to our group chat with the caption "I'm in the UK bitches!!!" before putting my phone back into my pocket.

   My aunt arrived at the airport in her Jeep in no time. The process is as follows: she would drive us to the apartment my mother had rented out for us after taking us shopping for water and hot meals. We rapidly packed our belongings into the car and sped down the highways, while I gazed out the window, smiling simply because I was happy to be there.

   My aunt and mother started chatting with each other right away, and I could tell they missed each other despite their frequent fights. With a big physique and chubby cheeks, my aunt sported a short bob haircut. Her cheeks were covered in freckles that were almost as dark as her eyes. She was dressed in a jean jacket, black leggings, and a polo shirt tucked into them.

   Her spouse was in the driver's seat, and he wasn't very social, so he kept to himself quietly. Because of our history, I wasn't thrilled to be with my aunt, but that's a story for another time.

    We decided to go to a supermarket to pick up the stuff we needed and in no time flat we were in the parking lot. The towering building with many foreign delicacies inside brought my face to amazement. The attractiveness of the boys here was one of the first things I noticed. Tall, dark-skinned, muscular, with pink lips. I scouted them out on each loop of the store and fantasized what we could do together.

My mother signaled that it was time to leave after I wandered the aisles for a little longer. At first, I was disappointed, but then I remembered how many other gorgeous boys I could see on my adventures here.

The drive was lengthy, picturesque, and tranquil, and I kept my gaze fixed outside the window, allowing the adults' conversation to fade into the background. We arrived at the apartment complex and, with the help of my aunt's husband, carried our stuff up the stairs. We were getting settled inside the flat when we heard a ruckus from the unit next door. We ignored it, though, because we needed to unload our baggage.

I fell asleep after we were finished before my mother even got out of the shower, and when I awoke at two a.m., I had no idea where I was, bonnet missing. After regaining my senses, I gently strolled around the room, making sure that no loud noises or quick movements awoke my mother. Before taking my phone off the charger and connecting my headphones to it via Bluetooth, I ate the remnants from my mother's plate that sat on the countertop.

As soon as my playlist began, I felt a connection to the music and the words that my favorite artists said to me as if I was listening to it for the first time again. I stood up from the couch and began mumbling the lyrics as if I were singing the song in front of a live audience. My face was made up, my dress was pink and glistened with white diamonds that rained down like raindrops, and a curly wig with bangs rested atop my head. I was bold, confident, and flawless on stage as I performed the choreography to the song. The support dancers, flashing lights, and disc jockey were all behind me, tying the bow on the act.

For the next few minutes, I moved about the unit on the tips of my toes, singing along with the lyrics in trying to make as little noise as possible. I quickly found myself on the balcony, where I took a break from dancing to sing the song out loud. Doja Cat's song "So High" provided me a lot of delight whenever it was played.

When I turned around to go back inside, I was astounded to see three boys sitting on the balcony of the apartment next door. I observed that they were all using their cellphones to play Minecraft. Each of them wore faded haircuts except for one who had starter dreads, black hoodies and grey sweatpants. But that's all I got out of the fleeting glimpse I gave them before fleeing the scene in embarrassment. I shut the door and stood there for a few moments, listening to their faint laughter.

I was too humiliated to continue my performance, so I took off my headphones and sat up in bed, playing a game of Minecraft. I got a notification, an airdrop, after a few minutes of wandering around the map. The guys next door had sent me an image, requesting that we play Minecraft. I jumped out of bed quickly and opened the door to see them peering over the gates that separated the two apartment's balconies. My social anxiety was at an all-time high, and I could scarcely speak.

"Yo, you wanna join the game? We noticed you were playing through the reflection of the glass" stated one of them. I was madly attracted to him for some reason. He spoke with a frigid, deep voice that wobbled along his yellow braces and raw meat-colored lips. He had an unkempt, unfinished beard, and I could tell he had been working out just by looking at his skinny frame.

"Um, sure" I replied, my words too scared to jump off my tongue.

We played for the following three hours, and they frequently complemented my game skills. This continued for two more weeks of late-night playing, which finally led to me and Kent, the boy I was attracted to, developing feelings for one other. By day I was out shopping with my mother and at night I was Belle. Every night, we sat on the balcony and told one other interesting stories and personal experiences. The two other boys, I discovered, were his pals who spent a lot of time with him when they weren't at work or school. They were all members of the LGBTQ community and shared a bond. Kent, who was bisexual, told me how brutally his mother reacted when he informed her about who he was. This made me even more hesitant to tell my anti-LGBTQ family, and whenever Kent questioned when I was going to tell my mother, I would shift the subject.

My spirits had improved, and for the first time in a long time, I felt as if I had something to live for. Once I returned to BerkVille, we agreed to pursue a long-distance romance and spend as much time together here as possible. We'd kiss under a bedsheet on the balcony floor, and he'd let me listen to his playlist. I tolerated the songs despite my dislike for them on his behalf. These moments encapsulated and washed away all my father had drilled into my heart, and I wanted to keep them forever.

However, one night altered everything. I was due to meet up with my father and his wife the next morning to stay with him for a few days, so my mother and I remained up late packing. Soon after, we were awakened by a squabble next door, which I recognized as Kent and his mother, so I peered out the door to see his mother throwing his belongings into the hallway and ordering him to go. Tears streamed down his face, yet he remained composed despite the situation. My heart sank to my knees, and I really wanted to hug and kiss him, but I couldn't because of a force that had a great deal of influence on how I felt about myself, my mother.

He noticed me before starting down the steps, and the look he gave suggested that I come hug him and help him figure out what he was going to do, but I refrained since I was insecure. I returned inside after listening to my mother's plea and watching Kent recede into the darkness through the glass. I was terrified that something would happen to him, and I despised myself for not assisting him. I subsequently spent the remainder of the night in sweatpants, with those scenes replaying in my thoughts on a loop. Why didn't I go out of my way to assist him? Is it possible that I'm so pitiful that I allow other people's opinions on my life to wear me down? I just fucking hate myself!

The next morning arrived quickly, and we followed the trail to the bus stop where we were meant to meet. Meeting my father for the first time in fourteen years didn't make me feel sentimental for some reason, but it was just weird. My mother had left us after giving him a list of things to buy on my behalf, and I was terrified to be around him without my mother's help.

I could tell he was the leader of the household just by looking at how he and his wife interacted with each other. His wife appeared to be pleasant and easy to command, which explained a lot. They were dressed in identical outfits, which made me cringe. After a hug, he introduced me to his wife, and what made me uneasy was that she hugged me too. We were soon on our way to the various locations to do the jobs. I strolled behind them, silently thinking to myself and watching how they interacted with one another.

Misty, his wife, was extremely thin and a few inches taller than him, with the signs of aging on her wrists. She had a synthetic bob on her head, tight shorts, and a t-shirt with numerous cultural symbols on it.

Mart, my father, had developed muscle and was now approximately the same height as me, which he admired. His eyes were bloodshot crimson, and his face was beginning to sag. He had a short mohawk on his head and was dressed in jean shorts and a t-shirt similar to Misty's.

Despite my initial discontent, the small things we did cheered me up. He bought me a fresh phone, brought me shopping for clothes, and then took me to Mcdonalds for lunch before returning to his house on the train. The fact that he let Misty pick out the majority of my clothes didn't appeal to me, but I pushed it aside.

They lived in a rented basement with marble worktops and oak floors in which you could see your own reflection. I settled in and made myself at ease, then began observing even more while pretending to set up my new phone. I observed right away that Misty was doing the housework and cooking the meals while Mart was the one who worked. I was hesitant to test her meal at first, but it turned out to be quite excellent. I remained silent and only spoke when spoken to because I had not yet left outside of my comfort zone.

I went to my room that Misty had prepared for me after supper and stayed there for the rest of the night. None of the two that entered their room a little later, troubled me for the night. I thought about Kent for approximately two hours before falling asleep with my music playing in my ears.

The next few days were uneventful; we primarily stayed at home, where Mart inquired about my life without him, but just to make him feel good about himself, I informed him that his departure had no impact on me. What was perplexing was how he asked these questions about him being a good father rather than what I might have gone through. But I'm used to it at this point.

The sky was lighted by dazzling sun rays on a Sunday, and the streets were bustling. Mart informed me that only he and I would be going to the mall, which was only a few blocks from his house, and we were ready by nine o'clock. He was attempting to mold me into him, I realized. He forced me to buy the same clothes he did and threw away my clothes because the colors were "girly." He even advised me to adjust my posture and speak in a more macho manner. By then, I was becoming increasingly uneasy and wishing for the day to end, knowing that my mother would pick me up the next day.

    We were going to the mall to get me a phone case and a couple pairs of shoes for school. We received the things, but it didn't take long for us to get into a fight. Mart began pressuring me to take pictures with him, despite the fact that I am not particularly photogenic. When I expressed my dissatisfaction, he began to walk away, leaving me standing in the packed hallway. He ultimately returned, but nothing had changed. I felt like I was a child again, and when he left, I had to pretend I was conversing with him. However, his ignorance and joy led him to believe that he was always the victim in every incident.

That was the end of the mall tour, and I fell asleep as soon as we got home still mad and sad. The next morning, I arose before any of them and dressed, but when he awoke, he demanded that I change my clothes. I didn't care because I knew I'd be free of his shackles in an hour.

As soon as I stepped off the bus and caught a glimpse of my mother's bright pink blouse, I turned away from him and approached her. But before we could depart, he had a few words for her. He said he despised the way my mother allowed me to dress and train, and that I acted like a "faggot." That comment crushed my soul, and for the next few minutes, they stood there arguing with one other as I, too embarrassed to approach them, fought back tears.

After I informed him that I would never want to be like him and that I dislike him, he eventually walked away from us. My mother tried to get me to tell her what had happened that week, but I refused since I didn't want to worry about it. Plus, I was certain she'd tell my entire family. We hadn't even boarded the bus yet when she called my aunt to inform her of the situation.

Despite the fact that I was near my breaking point, I remained silent on the way home while she was on the phone. But it was this that really messed me up:

I observed Kent on the stairs with a girl as we returned to the apartment. She had light-skin, wavy hair, and a larger frame. My heart didn't even feel like it was beating although it was racing as fast as Usain Bolt. I could tell they were dating by the way they kissed and touched each other. Dating for longer than he knew me. Even worse, Kent was acting completely oblivious to my presence. I held my cool to avoid alarming my mother, but inside I felt like Sadness from "Inside Out."

Suicide? Yeah, imma need it's number after this summer.