chapter twenty.
no way out.

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Edwin and I ate breakfast—a bowl of Cheerios each—together in my dining room the following morning. The boy was reassuring me that he was feeling a lot better after sleeping when my father suddenly walked in, that same blank expression he wore at dinner the previous day still on his face.

I didn't say good morning to him, because I never did. Edwin fell silent and so I started talking about school to try and fill the awkward air with something casual that wouldn't possibly set off my dad or something. I was glad Edwin stopped talking as well, because I didn't want my dad to know too much about my boyfriend's personal life. It just felt uncomfortable to me. My dad was a dangerous person, he didn't need to know the secrets of my friends and possibly use it against them, or even against me in some weird, fucked up way.

I kept going on about a difficult assignment for my science class that Jackson and I were collaborating on until eventually my dad left a few minutes later, a plate of toast and a mug of coffee in hand. He went into the living room and turned on the television much too loud for my liking, probably so he could drown out Edwin and I for whatever reason.

"My dad's been acting weird recently," I whispered, staring down the hallway that the man disappeared down. "And yesterday, at dinner, he was giving me some weird looks."

"I know. I noticed. He just kept...staring at you." Edwin agreed.

I just sighed, knowing that whatever it was would come up eventually, hopefully sooner rather than later so I could get it over with instead of feeling more anxiety than usual around my father.

At noon, Nathan came to pick Edwin up. I walked him to the car, trying not to tear up at the fact that I wouldn't see him again until Monday. Because I had never been in a relationship before, I didn't realize how difficult it was to leave your significant other for any longer than a day. It felt like a piece of myself was gone.

"Let's call later, okay?" Edwin said to try and cheer me up. I nodded solemnly. He then wrapped his arms around me for a moment and held me pressed to his chest. When he pulled away, he gave me one final kiss on the cheek before grabbing the passenger side door handle of his brother's car. "Bye." he smiled at me.

"Bye." I replied, smiling back at him despite not feeling happy at all inside.

I returned inside once the car pulled away and immediately I went to go upstairs to my room, but not before my dad yelled my name from the living room that was right across the hall from the staircase.

I walked into the room, feeling like I was going to vomit. Whatever my dad was upset about, I knew right then and there that he was going to talk about it.

I glanced at my mom who was sitting a few feet away from my dad on the couch, staring hard into the floor while she picked at the bracelets on her wrist. I then watched as my dad picked up the remote to mute the TV before turning to face me from his spot on the couch.

"What's up with you and that boy?" My dad inquired.

All of the air in my lungs seemed to vanish. My biggest fear was coming true, right in front of me. I didn't know what to say. I just wanted to run, run to Edwin's house and hide away with him forever.

"Kyran? Hello?"

"Sorry, I was just, uh, confused as to...what you mean." I lied quickly, knowing that me just standing there awkwardly was incredibly suspicious and would not help me at all in trying to persuade my father into thinking there was absolutely nothing going on between Edwin and I.

"Don't be a dumbass," he replied. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"I'm serious," I insisted, trying to keep my voice level. "He's my best friend. That's all there is to it."

My dad looked like he didn't believe me. Or at least, not entirely.

"Then why the fuck did he have his arms wrapped around you last night when I came into your room?" he asked, his volume rising with each word. I struggled to breathe properly. "Normal best friends don't do weird shit like that. That boy is a fucking faggot and you need to stay away from him before he corrupts you."

I flinched at his harsh words. Nodding quickly, I choked out, "I will. I promise. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

My dad stepped closer to me, getting right up into my face. "You are going to stay the fuck away from him." he ordered in disgust. "I will not let that boy corrupt my son, you hear me?"

"Y-yeah." I mumbled.

My mom yelled out when suddenly my dad grabbed the front of my shirt and pushed me against the wall, absolute fury in his eyes. "I said, do you fucking hear me?"

"Yes, I hear you, I hear you," I cried, my vision blurring as tears threatened to fall from my eyes. My entire body was shaking. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I hear you." I continued until my dad finally let me go, throwing me onto the floor and knocking a picture frame off of the wall in the process. The edge of the frame smacked me directly in the forehead, causing me to cry out in pain. I heard my dad's footsteps fading and new, softer ones coming closer—my mom's.

"Come here baby, I've got you," she practically whispered, pulling me into her lap. "I'm so sorry." she said, her voice so quiet I could barely hear her. She wiped at my forehead, frowning. "It's just a little bit of blood...and it'll probably leave a bruise, but you'll be okay."

She grabbed my arms and stood me up. Tears were streaming down my face, my chest was heaving...I desperately wished that my mom and I could just pack our bags and leave, but I knew that was unrealistic. We had nowhere to go, no plan, not enough money. Either way, my dad would find us, I just knew deep down that he would. It wouldn't be worth it. It would just make things worse if we tried.

Just two more years, I told myself as my mom wrapped her arms around me and pressed me close to her chest. Then I can leave.

Another round of tears came when I realized that if I left, I'd also be leaving my mom. I couldn't do that to her. It was just an awful, impossible situation, one that I wanted out of immediately.

And there was really no way out.

I cried alone in my room for the rest of the night. My parents didn't make dinner, or at least not for me, but I knew I wouldn't be able to eat or face my dad anyway, not for a while. I just hoped I wouldn't have to see him for a few days. I would just stay in my room until Monday if I had to.

I thought about calling Edwin, but I didn't really know what I would say to him. I obviously didn't want to avoid him or anything, but I was also so fucking scared of my dad. I didn't really know what he was truly capable of. What if he tried stalking me to see if I was hanging out with Edwin? Came to my work? Told the staff members at my school to keep an eye on me?

"You're so fucking paranoid." I mumbled to myself, rolling over on my bed. I knew my worries were illogical, and there was no real way for my dad to figure out if Edwin and I were still keeping in contact, but there was still something inside of me that was too scared to take a chance, despite the odds.

At two am I finally decided to turn out the lights and lay in bed on my phone, my tears having dried up a bit and my body coming out of panic mode. The adrenaline ending must've made me incredibly tired because I fell into a dreamless sleep within five minutes of turning the lights off.

🌌

I woke up to a sore throat and the scratch on my forehead hurting. I had fallen asleep on my stomach and while rolling around in my sleep, the pillow must have pulled the bandaid off and exposed my broken skin to the air.

I slowly crept to the bathroom with a water bottle in hand, intending to put a new bandaid on as well as fill up my bottle with sink water, not having the bravery to go downstairs and grab a glass of some orange juice that I was desperately craving.

I returned to my room as quickly as possible, thanking God that I didn't run into either of my parents. I heard the television blasting downstairs, so I assumed one or both of them were down there watching it.

The day passed slowly. I took several naps, sipped water to try and keep my growling stomach at bay, and tossed and turned in bed while flipping between various gaming videos I found on YouTube. Edwin texted me several times but I ignored each one, that gnawing feeling in my stomach growing with each text. Eventually he began calling me, so I just stared at the screen until he gave up, not wanting to press decline nor accept. He left a voicemail that I didn't have the heart to listen to. I knew it was terribly unfair to him, but I just needed time to decompress completely before texting him and letting him know what was going on.

At seven pm it began to thunderstorm. I stared at the wall for ages, wanting to fall asleep again but not being tired enough to. My eyes hurt from watching videos all day, so I left my phone on my bedside table to charge. My stomach was aching badly—I had never gone that long without eating before, and drinking water periodically wasn't helping either. I considered going downstairs and grabbing something, but every time I came close to opening my door, I would eventually back down and sit back down on my bed, my heart racing madly within my chest.

Listening to the thunder roaring and the lightning flashing every few seconds, I opened up my bedside drawer and stared at the contents inside. Like a few months before when I opened it with bad thoughts in mind, it was still filled with a myriad of pills, mostly tylenol and advil, but with a few others mixed in, hanging out around bits of paper and pencils that also occupied the drawer.

My heart ached. Dying wasn't something I truly ever wanted, but it just seemed like the easier way to deal with things. Everything in my life was falling apart, right when I thought things were getting good. One small mistake, one tiny slip up, and all I wanted to do was fall asleep and never wake up again because my entire life was just a load of bullshit and pain. Edwin was the only person I truly cared about, and even then he was practically getting taken away from me.

I stared into that drawer for an hour. My hands were gripping the sheet I sat on, trying to get the courage to take a hold of every damn pill I was looking at and down it as quickly as possible. It would be so easy, painless. But I just couldn't. Dying seemed so fucking scary. Plus, 'life gets better' is what I always heard from others.

This is temporary, I told myself. I know it hurts but you need to keep trying.

I closed the drawer, cursing myself for even considering it in the first place. I knew I couldn't leave Edwin behind, or my mother. Even people like Nadine or Jackson would be upset. My co-workers. Nathan, the rest of Edwin's family. I couldn't let one person, one situation dictate whether or not my life was worth living. Giving up on my life would just enable my father's actions, let him know that he won. He could do unspeakable things to my mother as well, blame her for it. I didn't want that to happen.

Edwin would blame himself. He already thought he was a burden onto his family, I did not want him thinking he was a burden to me too. I wanted him to thrive, with or without me—but I knew that if he was to be okay without me, I still needed to be alive. Leaving him permantently without saying goodbye would be so fucking shitty of me to do.

In the end, I realized that ending my life wasn't worth it. The pain was horrible, but I knew that I would make it through.

I had already gone through sixteen years of abuse; what was only two more?

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