For the past four days since the incident, my father had denied me the right to leave my room or even really get out of my bed unless it was to use the bathroom and take a shower. So for the past four days I have been rotting away in this stuffy room, doing nothing but sleeping, eating almost inedible food, going to the bathroom, sleeping, watching little TV, and feeling like dead weight. After the whole bear trap accident, my father and the man who had saved me, Alex was his name if I recalled correctly had brought me upstairs to rest before cleaning up the mess I had made downstairs. Alex had tried to convince my father to go to the police, but my father being the stubborn man he was, didn't want to get the police involved at least not until he knew whether or not the bear trap was my grandfathers or someone who was illegally hunting on our land.

Letting out a groan, I pulled myself out of bed as I started to get ready to go out for dinner for my 'recovery.' But I wasn't recovered, not fully anyways. My father either wanted something from me, or this was his way of 'apologizing' to me for not always being there for me. You know now that I think about it... I don't think my father and I ever went out to dinner together, at least not without my mother but I couldn't quite remember. Knock knock knock knock, knock knock. My father knocked in a rhythm. "I'm about to take a shower you need anything?" My father yelled through the door.

"No, I don't believe so." I said gritting through my teeth in pain as I stood up out of bed.

"Okay, i'll just be in my bathroom if you need me." My father said, practically rubbing in that he had his own private bathroom. Not even replying, I walked over to one of the three boxes my father brought up to my room labeled clothes. It was funny how my entire life fit in three boxes. The few books I've collected, my clothes, a few awards, art drawings, wall decorations, everything. It all managed to fit into three boxes and sometimes a suitcase or two. Rummaging through the box gently, I found my outfit. It was nothing too fancy just a plain red-T which I tucked in, a pair of black skinny jeans, and my flamin hot cheeto sweater. Ten minutes, a ton of struggling, getting angry, and wanting to give up-later I was finally dressed. Wiping the sweat that formed on my head, I fell backwards onto my bed.

"Phew." I sighed, thankful to be dressed in something other than shorts, and a T-shirt. Grabbing my phone I opened up minecraft and started playing. I really needed to buy a TV and game council so I could play games and watch movies in my room on something other than my phone. Clicking on the world I wanted to play on, it never got the chance to even finish loading before a knock sounded at my door. Knock knock knock. "Coming." I said pushing myself off of my bed. Getting off of my bed slowly, I opened my door so that my father and I could leave for dinner. "That didn't take you-" No one was at my bedroom door. Looking around the loft I thought my father was just trying to play a trick on me, but the moment I heard the shower running I knew he wasn't. Taylor. Oh shit. Not again. Not long after my name had been called in a sing-song voice, the whispering started. Like last time, they were quiet and got louder the closer I got to them. Booty crawling down the steps, all I could hear was my name being called, and whispering. I couldn't even hear the sound of my breath, or my heartbeat as my heart started to beat faster. Pulling myself off of the steps slowly, I let out a groan and gave myself a second to get my balance.

The whispering got louder and louder, leading me to the locked door where it suddenly stopped once again. TAYLOR, the whispering almost sounded angry now, as if I had take too long for it's liking. Going to reach for the handle all I got was a locked door... again. But that was alright, I would break- "Taylor!? Where are you?" My father asked worried as he ran down the stairs seemingly worried as he looked for me.

"O-over here!" I piped up, slowly walking away from the door.

"What are you doing down here? You should have waited for me upstairs to help you down." PFFT yeah like you've been there for me the rest of my life? I rolled my eyes.

"What's behind the double doors?" I asked looking back at the locked doors.

"That was your grandfather's study, and also the library of the house. He was a very private man that one. So it's important you stay out of there."

"But you said that the only place off limits was the second room in the basement!" I grumbled while trying to keep in my anger.

"Yes, well I forgot about this room till now. So, like I said off limits."

"But-"

"No but's Taylor! End of story." UGHH. How was I supposed to find out what was behind that door that was calling me if I couldn't even step one foot inside of it? "Do you understand me son?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever." I huffed.

"Good, now let's go out to eat. I am famished." My father said walking over to me to help walk me outside. Allowing him to help since I could barely walk on my own and my father decided not to get me a crutch like I had asked of him.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

"Welcome to Abruzzo's Italian Kitchen! My name is James and I will be your server today!" James... that name sounded familiar. Looking up, my eyes met with those of the french kids that I had met a week ago in the library and forgot to text after he gave me his number to 'hang out'.

"Bonjuor Taylor." James said, surprised to see me.

"H-hey J-james." I stuttered, looking away before my father could tell I was blushing.

"I will start you off with some drinks, and then I will take your order, so what may I get you tonight?" James asked, taking out one of those ordering pads that all servers used to take orders.

"Um, i'll start out with lemon water, and then whatever Taylor wants." My father said his eyes were basically drilling holes through James.

"Make that two please and thank you." My father and I handed him our drink menus.

"Alight mes amis, I shall be back to take your order in a quelques minutes." James smiled as he walked away to get our drinks.

"Who was that." My father sounded almost angry.

"Oh uh, no one just someone I met while at the library." I tried to reassure him, hoping he didn't figure out I liked boys just because of one guy.

"Yeah? Well stay away from him. He's obviously a fag." My father spat, making me wince. "He was basically drooling over you the entire time. If he goes to you're school next year stay as far away as possible, you see him around town stay as far as possible, he even looks at you-"

"Look the other way and pretend he's not there I take it?" Anger started to boil, rage, and sizzle inside of me like water being heated up for pasta on a stove. Something started to move under my skin, my skin starting to burn. But at the moment I couldn't care. I wanted to scream, and yell at my homophobic father. The one who had just told me what to do with my life when he had never even been in my life to start with. The stranger I was expected to call dad, the stranger who I did call dad. My skin started to burn, the pain started to cloud my vision, and make me wince, the pain unbearable as I felt like my skin was being ripped apart; tearing apart and healing and tearing apart again. Not now, not now, not now. I felt like I was going to puke. "I have to use the bathroom, i'll be right back." I held my hand to my face as I excused myself from the table abruptly. Running to the bathroom my leg didn't cause me any trouble or pin as I barely made it to the toilet in time before I puked up a nasty, black sludge, the stench of it was excruciatingly disgusting. Quickly, I flushed it hoping it would get rid of the smell as well. Getting off of the ground, I stood up and got out of the stall, the smell still hanging in the air but not as foul as before.

"Calm down Taylor, you'll be fine. Just calm down." I repeated this to myself over and over while gripping the sink as the famillular burning and ripping pain that had spread over my body started to slowly go away. I splashed water on my face and arms, cooling me down almost instantly, a flood of relief instantly hit me like a truck. Taking a few deep breaths, I felt calm enough and ready to head back out to face my father without screaming in his face.

"Hey what happened? Everything go okay in there?" My father asked as I sat back down.

"Just a little sick." I lied, my skin feeling irritated.

"Are you okay? Do you want to go home? We don't have to eat out, we can take it to go."

"No it's fine." I placed a fake smile on my face.

"If you say so." My father said taking a sip of his water that James must have delivered to us while I was in the bathroom. "I didn't know what you wanted so I told the stupid boy to give us a few minutes more to decide." I almost growled at this.

"Why?" Someone spoke up. It took me a moment to realize I'm the one who spoke.

"Why what?" My father seemed taken aback.

"Why do you have to be so judgmental all the time? Why can't you just be nice for once. Why do you have to call James a fag? Call him stupid!? Can't we just have one nice night with no name calling?" I blurted out without meaning to. Shit. Damn it felt so good to get off of my chest. And the best part was I didn't mention I was gay, or say that I accepted gays, I just said implied that he should shut the hell up for once.

"Is that really how you feel?" He asked, looking at me with a stern look on his face.

"Yes." I said bravely.

"Okay, then I shall respect your wishes and I won't call people such... hurtful things." My father said, his face not faltering for even a second. "Outloud anywho." He hissed as he saw James walk past with a tray full of food for another table.

"Thank you." I said calmly making sure my expression matched my tone. Although I was calm on the outside, I was freaking out on the inside. The last time I stood up to my father I got sent to my room and had no dinner. Which was funny because I had a whole stash of snacks in my bedroom.

"Well, I am thinking of doing a pizza but for this price it's not worth getting one just for myself. You want to share one with me?" my father asked, avoiding eye contact with me.

"Sure, what are you thinking of?" I asked looking at the pizza section of the menu James must have given us along with our drinks.

"I was thinking either the four cheese, or the pro-pro, prosc-sciu-tto." He said, having trouble pronouncing prosciutto.

"Prosciutto?" I chuckled at this. Although I wasn't happy with my father, it was still funny to see him mess up the pizza's name.

"Okay Mr. Smarty pants, you know what I was trying to say. Have you had that type of pizza? Is it any good?"

"No, I haven't tried it before." I said setting down my menu.

"Well, then let's try it." My father said, smiling. Flagging down James, He gritted the order through his teeth trying to be nice, and thankfully managing to.

"There's uh, there's something we need to discuss." my father said, a frown forming on his face. Oh great, just like I thought. He was bringing me out to dinner to warm up to me before telling me something I would probably hate.

"Okay?" I took a drink from my water.

"You remember John right? Harper and Khloe's father?" My father asked me. Rolling my eyes at the mention of Harper and Khloes name. It made me want to puke again.

"Of course." My grip on the glass of water tightened as I tried to settle down the anger.

"Well, he got sick, and lately it's been getting worse. So I decided to go and visit him before he passed, and help with the funeral. You can come if you want, but if you don't want to you can stay here." My father said with a perfectly straight face, the emotion in his tone was one of calmness like he could care less his friend was dying. And that only made me feel sicker.

"No that's fine." I said, trying not to blurt it out the moment he offered me to go with him. I couldn't go. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't. Facing Harper and Khloe would be too much for me. It would have taken all I could muster not to fight with them not that it would have done anything, I would have just lost.

"You sure, I know how much you loved Khlo-"

"I said no thank you, now can we drop it?" I asked as my legs started shaking, the feeling that something was crawling under my skin and trying to get out resurfaced. Managing to keep my emotions calm, my anger only boiled inside of me. Every word my father spoke to me, I felt like I was being attacked, everything my father did irritated me. Hormones sucked. Well, at least I think it's hormones.

The rest of the night, including dinner my stomach would not settle down. Even though I got a little bit of the anger out, the rest wanted out. It wanted to take control, It wanted to hurt others. I couldn't explain how I knew, I just did. It was not a fun feeling either. My father could be heard snoring away in the next room over, tired from his long day of doing probably nothing.

I couldn't fall asleep though. For the past four days all I have been doing was sleeping, so now it was hard to even close my eyes. Instead, I decided to text James. Hey, it's Taylor. I sent. After ten minutes of no reply, I decided he either didn't want to talk, he gave me the wrong number, or it was too late at night for him to reply. Opening Spotify, I clicked on my playlist and plugged in my headphones so I could listen to something while I lay awake staring at the ceiling. Ding. Zoning off to sleep my phone went off telling me I had a notification.

Opening it, it read For a second I didn't think you would text mon ami with a winky face after it.

LOL, sorry I just got caught up with some stuff and forgot to text you until I saw you tonight. I sent with a smiley emoji.

Is it okay that you are talking to moi? I know your father wouldn't like it. He sent an additional sad face emoji.

Oh who cares what my father likes or doesn't like.

He is homophobic yes? James asked. I could hear his french accent in his messages.

Sadly yes. What about your parents? I asked hoping it wasn't too personal.

My father doesn't mind, my mother doesn't either.

Haha lucky

Oui monsieur, what about your mother?

She uh... she accepted me.

Accepted? What do you mean? For someone who was a native french speaker, he definitely spoke formal english.

She's dead

Oh no, I am so sorry mon ami. I hope I didn't hurt you.

You're fine, I sent a bunch of smiley emojis to show him it was fine. If I was being honest, I was taken off guard, and not prepared to tell anyone here my mother was dead. We texted on and off for the rest of the night making plans to hang out the next day while I kept falling asleep and waking up so I decided to text him I was going to bed. TAYLOR. I heard my name being whispered by whatever kept whispering my name. Ignoring it, I heard it call my name once more before leaving me alone for the rest of the night.

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Taylor has a crush! To bad he has a homophobic father and doesn't allow himself to get attached to people 😥😓
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P.s this will be the last chapter I'll be posting for a week or two but I promise to update soon!