chapter nine.
one more day.

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As much as I wanted to, I refrained from pulling Edwin close into a hug. I didn't want to make him uncomfortable or anything, especially not in his own home.

As I sat and half-listened to Edwin drone on about something his grandma's dog did a few months ago, a few anxiety-ridden thoughts plagued my mind, completely blocking out whatever my friend was saying to me from my brain.

I knew I couldn't stay long at Edwin's house because I needed to get home as soon as possible. About twenty minutes into my visit I was already feeling the familiar anxiety kicking in, knowing that my parents would probably be wondering where I was and expecting me home immediately.

I didn't bring it up, though, fearful that Edwin would assume I was uncomfortable and wanted to leave because of him, or his family—which definitely wasn't the case. I thoroughly enjoyed his family members, as well as the overall vibe that surrounded me within that house. I knew that everyone was full of love for each other—something that felt quite unfamiliar and new to me, personally. A small part of me deeply envied the type of care Edwin's parents gave him, and I thought about how much I wished I could have something like that instead of two stern, cold-hearted strangers as parents.

I sighed softly and brought myself back to the present, thankful that Edwin didn't seem to notice me zoning out completely. He was still going on about the dog story, his gaze fixated onto a little fidget toy he played with in his right hand. I watched him speak, the way his mouth moved with every syllable. I noticed the way he didn't like to simply brush away a stray strand of hair, but completely push his hair back, causing it to get messy and appear quite unkempt.

I was definitely aware from the first moment I saw the boy that I definitely found him attractive, but as time went on and after seeing him act like his true self around me, I knew I was beginning to like him a bit more. But of course I knew I would have to keep that to myself, in fear of many terrible things happening to either of us. The mere idea of my parents finding out I had even the littlest bit of an attraction to the boy made my head spin and my stomach hurt from the nerves. If things between Edwin and I were ever to move forward in a romantic way, I knew my parents would need to stay out of it completely, or else they'd find a way to fuck it all up. I didn't want that for me, or for the pretty boy sitting across from me.

My frantic thoughts continued—was the risk of my parents finding out worth pursuing Edwin? It wouldn't be fair to him if we fell in love and my parents were to rip it all apart. Well, if we did fall in love. Chances are I was just crushing on a straight guy who didn't believe in love or some bullshit like that. I'd understand, though. Having the whole universe and luck against you can make you feel pretty shitty and unworthy of love. But I had a sliver of hope that he'd still be interested in a relationship, because if I could go through living a life with parents who never showed me love, yet I still managed to feel that emotion strongly myself, then maybe Edwin still could too, despite the despair within his life.

Maybe I should go home and sort my mind out there.

"Edwin," I unintentionally interrupted the boy, my brain completely forgetting he was even talking to me. I felt a twinge of guilt, but from the look on Edwin's face after I said his name, he definitely didn't appear to be too upset. "I'm sorry but I should be getting home."

The older boy pouted. "Nooooo, I don't want you to leave," he whined, reaching out to grab my arm and swing it around dramatically. I couldn't help the grin that appeared on my face. "I like having you here. You're fun. And I feel a lot less lonely."

The expression on his face almost made me stay longer, but the anxiety of my parents' anger was much stronger. "I'm sorry. I like it here but I don't want my parents to be upset that I'm gone this long. They don't even know I'm here."

Edwin's expression changed to one of shock. "What? Then you should leave now. Come on," he hopped off his bed, bringing me with him, onto our feet. "Next time tell your parents you're coming over to mine. I don't want them worrying about you..."

"It's okay. They don't care that much," I said, following my friend out of his bedroom door and into the short hallway. "It's more of a control thing, I guess..." I added.

Edwin didn't reply.

Within a few minutes Nathan was driving me home, the sky somehow even darker than it was before. It was nearing nine pm and my stomach was in knots just thinking of what awaited me at home.

My mind was in shambles. Was it worth it to hang out with Edwin, knowing damn well I'd get in trouble for coming home almost two hours late? I really couldn't decide.

Edwin gave me a small hug goodbye before I left his brother's car. "I'll see you tomorrow." He mumbled, worry evident in his voice.

"Yeah. See you." I said back before gently shutting the car door.

I waited until Nathan's vehicle had completely left my street before I entered my house, my skin practically crawling from nerves, my throat feeling dry and itchy, and my hands clammy and sticky from nervous sweat. God, I'm so sick of the constant anxiety they give me, I thought to myself as I opened the front door with a soft crunch. But I can't do anything to stop it.

I didn't hear voices coming from the living room or the kitchen. Maybe they had gone to bed, and they'd talk to me the following day, I assured myself.

I crept up the stairs as quietly as possible after taking my shoes off. I mentally cursed when I passed by my parents' bedroom door and saw their light seeping through the crack at the bottom. I swiftly passed their room and entered my own at the end of the hallway, closing the door behind me softly.

"God, just please make them leave me alone..." I whispered tearfully to myself as I quickly undressed to change into more comfortable clothes. I could barely unbutton my pants, as my hands shook profusely, and my body felt like jelly as I stood in the corner, fearful my parents would barge in at any moment. Yes, they typically would knock, but in their anger who knew what they'd do. If they were pissed off, all the respect I had earned from them as their teenage son who had done barely anything wrong my entire life would be thrown out the door. In my dad's eyes especially, a bad kid didn't deserve respect—understandable, in a way, but I knew I wasn't a bad kid. I deserved respect, much more than they did from me.

I was right about my fears—they didn't knock, they just barged right in. I stared at my dad's pissed off looking face with tears already pooling in my eyes as I cowered in the corner. Was I weak? Of course, but knowing my parents, standing up to them never did anything good. Laying low and taking the blows was better than any other possibility in those situations.

"Why the hell did you come home so late?" My father demanded, taking steps closer to me. My mom followed after closing my bedroom door behind me. Thankfully his voice wasn't too loud, or else I wouldn't have the mental strength to reply.

I took a few deep breaths before replying, my words stumbling over each other in a jumbled mess I hoped the two adults could understand. "I-um-I went somewhere. A-a friend's house. I know him f-from-from, uh, school," I said. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I—I just forgot to—uh—say...say anything. I'm sorry."

"You were supposed to be home hours ago. We didn't know where you were, and we were worried sick. Is it really that fucking hard to tell one of us you want to go somewhere? What if something had happened to you?"

His words were pure manipulation. I knew it, but every time he said something like that, a part of me really wanted to believe it. They were my parents, for fuck's sake. I wanted them to care about me. Even if what was said was all lies, my brain chose to believe it all. I guessed it was all I could do to stay sane with the two as my parents.

They were really all I had. Not believing their words meant realizing and experiencing a deep loneliness that no human on Earth could bear to go through.

"I'm sorry for worrying you guys. It won't happen again." I spoke quickly. I just had to pray my parents would leave the issue alone after my apologies.

"If it does, you can kiss your phone goodbye." My dad continued. "You know what? We're sick of you doing stupid shit all the time. You lost your phone, what, a week ago? What is wrong with you?" the volume of his voice rose with each sentence he threw at me. "Is it seriously that hard to be a good kid for once?"

"I'm sorry." I spoke quickly and quietly, tears streaming down my face which I wiped at immediately, in fear my parents would make fun of me for crying.

"If you were truly sorry, you'd stop being so difficult!" He yelled, causing me to flinch. "God dammit, how did we fail so hard with you?" he spoke under his breath, crossing his arms to stare at me as I cried. I tried with everything I had in me to stop the tears from flowing, but for some reason they wouldn't stop. I felt so weak and vulnerable underneath the gazes of my parents—I just wished they would stop and leave me to cry alone in my room.

I opened my mouth to speak. "I'm—" A sob escaped my lips, "I'm so sorry. I'll try—try to be better."

"Stop trying, and actually be better. We're sick of you being so disrespectful to us," my dad spat. "If you decide to let your grades drop or you want to sneak away again, then you will be punished severely. Do you understand?"

I nodded without hesitation.

"Use your words." My dad grumbled, taking a rough grip of my upper arm that I'm sure would leave a bruise.

I wanted to puke. "Y-yes. I understand." I choked out.

My dad then let go of my arm, the lingering pain causing me to have to hold back a whimper. "Now get to bed." he instructed.

I watched my parents silently leave the room, and almost immediately after shutting the door I completely broke down.

I couldn't bother moving from the corner of my room. I slid to the floor, my back hitting the wall, and tried my best to muffle the sobs that rose from my throat. I wanted nothing more than to just completely disappear from the earth, leaving the pain behind. It just wasn't fair. He knew how much I hated being yelled at and touched violently, yet he did it anyway, and didn't care about how it affected me. To my father, I was nothing more than a doll he could push around, yet one the both of them had to minimally take care of. I was just a burden on the couple, and they made sure to continuously show me how much they hated my existence.

My heart heart, so badly. My stomach was swirling in fear, my head was pounding. What could I do when my mere existence was hell for the two? Run away? Where?

They'd find me anyway.

And, in a sick way, a part of me believed they only kept me around so they could use me as a punching bag to let out their own problems. I just had to hope they'd let me go as soon as I turned eighteen. Even so, I didn't think I could hold on that long. Two more years seemed like a lot...even one more day being alive felt exhausting.

Dark thoughts entered my mind, and a pang of fear struck me.

I could kill myself so easily, and this would all be over. Forever.

I stood up and went to my bedside table's drawer, where I had a half full bottle of sleeping pills, a full bottle of tylenol, and a few mystery pills scattered around the drawer. Maybe if I took this all...it would work...I thought to myself, slowly picking up the bottle of pain medicine.

The idea of an easy escape from my parents sounded so welcoming, yet terrifying at the same time. I didn't really want to die. Life always seemed so fun when I was on my own, out at the park or watching shows on my phone. I always dreamed of growing up, finding a lover, and travelling the vast world together. Did I really want to throw all of that down the drain?

I'll wait, I decided. I set the bottle back in and closed the drawer.

I couldn't give up on my happy ending just yet.

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