Categories > Original > Drama > The Freaks
When I open my eyes I realize that I'm... Not on campus anymore? wait, where am I? And why do I hurt like hell... everywhere?
“ Oh you're awake” I hear a voice to the left of me say. Oh, it's Jamie. Wait….
“Jamie, where the fuck are we?”
“Well... I thought you needed to be cleaned up, so I got all of the blood off of you and now we are sitting on my couch.”
well that would explain why I don't know where I am but-WHAT, I AM IN HIS HOUSE!?! okay... Calm down, Mikey, it will be okay.
“...cool.” I reply nonchalantly.
“I hope that's okay?”
“Yeah, fine” I reply.
“Good to know”
Wait...what? What is that supposed to mean? ‘ Good to know’? What the actual fuck? apparently he saw my puzzled expression because he just winked and laughed at me... Nice.
----
“So... I know we just met, but I hope it's okay that I brought you here... Is it weird? it feels weird. this is weird. You're not weird, I'm weird. Right? I don't know. I'm going to shut up now.”
Oh God, he's so cute…
“ Hey? You okay?” Jamie asks grabbing my arm... And I squeal. Like, no shit, I squealed.
“Wait…” with that remark he grabs my shirt sleeve and yanks it up my arm, revealing a multitude of bruises and scars cascading up the length of my arm. “What the fuck?” he mumbles under his breath, carefully evaluating the damage that was now in front of him.
“Okay, so... First I walked into the bathroom to check on you- to make sure you were okay, and end up seeing you slammed against the wall, and getting punched in the nose. Because you decided to puke up your guts. not just that, but now I'm finding all of these... things?... on your arm(s)?” Jamie rants, a look of confusion clear on his face. “Care to explain?”
In response I look up at him solemnly and I no longer see the carefree Jamie that I met today, but an entirely new person. A caring person; a compassionate person... Maybe I can tell him…?
“I can tell you something about me...I guess, if it would help?” Jamie offers hesitantly. I can tell he doesn't open up to people often... Oh, well at least he's trying. It's sweet.
“ Only if you're okay with it.”
“Oh, umm... Sure. Okay so...? Where do I start?”
“ At the beginning- that always seems to help."
“ Hahaha. Funny.” Jamie retorts sarcastically.
“Just trying to lighten the mood.”
“Okay... How about this? If I tell you one thing, then you tell me something. And I tell you another thing, and you tell me something else...?”
“Sure.”
“Okay. I'll start with an easy one. You were probably going to figure it out in a few minutes anyway. So... I live with my grandmother, Lena, for... Reasons.”
“‘For reasons’. Nope- not going to work. Spill, Jamie. I will listen.”
“Well... It's complicated, but… my parents- and brother- are kind of, umm..homophobic” when he says this,, as if he's trying to gauge my reaction “and when they found out that I was gay” again , he glances at me “ they kind of, like, disowned me. To put it nicely. That's it. Any questions?”
“Umm, dude I feel you with the whole gay-parent hate thing. Just wanted to let you know... I'm here.”
“ Yeah, well look who's talking. Same here though, Mikey, but I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong.” He hints.
“Okay... Which one do you want to know? Bathroom incident or bruises?”
“Ummm...bruises.”
“....of course…. Well... It kind of all started when I was in, like, 7th grade. my dad left, and as a result my mom started drinking. A lot. It wasn't too bad, at first, but slowly progressed to where she was coming home with multiple bottles a day. It was like... With each mean bottle, the angry or she was. At me. It wasn't even that I did anything wrong... I guess she just... hates me. Well, I was content with her hating me, but apparently she wasn't, and soon she was hitting me with anything she could get her hands on. Glass bottles. Her fists. Metal containers. Anything that could leave a mark basically. This one right here…” I say lifting up my shirt, revealing more marks that dominated my skin, and pointing to a long scar that ran right under my rib cage “ is from when she somehow got hold of a knife.” Tears glinting in my eyes, I sit down, images of my mother on her alcohol-induced rampages burning through my mind. “That’s all.” I say, choking on sob. I've never told anyone that before...
“Oh Mikey, I'm so sorry... I hope you know this means I'm going to be keeping a close eye on you. Especially whenever you go home.”
I look up at him pleadingly. “No, please. I can't go back home tonight...please?”
“Why not?” well that was a dumb question…
“ My mom caught me trying to pour her alcohol down the drain this morning... And she was not happy.”
“Oh, ummm.... You're staying here. You can sleep in my room and I'll sleep on the couch.”
“No, I can't do that. You should--”
“I insist” Jamie declares, winking at me.
“Okay...I guess.”
“So... Lena is supposed to be home in less than 20 minutes so... What's next?”
“ Oh you're awake” I hear a voice to the left of me say. Oh, it's Jamie. Wait….
“Jamie, where the fuck are we?”
“Well... I thought you needed to be cleaned up, so I got all of the blood off of you and now we are sitting on my couch.”
well that would explain why I don't know where I am but-WHAT, I AM IN HIS HOUSE!?! okay... Calm down, Mikey, it will be okay.
“...cool.” I reply nonchalantly.
“I hope that's okay?”
“Yeah, fine” I reply.
“Good to know”
Wait...what? What is that supposed to mean? ‘ Good to know’? What the actual fuck? apparently he saw my puzzled expression because he just winked and laughed at me... Nice.
----
“So... I know we just met, but I hope it's okay that I brought you here... Is it weird? it feels weird. this is weird. You're not weird, I'm weird. Right? I don't know. I'm going to shut up now.”
Oh God, he's so cute…
“ Hey? You okay?” Jamie asks grabbing my arm... And I squeal. Like, no shit, I squealed.
“Wait…” with that remark he grabs my shirt sleeve and yanks it up my arm, revealing a multitude of bruises and scars cascading up the length of my arm. “What the fuck?” he mumbles under his breath, carefully evaluating the damage that was now in front of him.
“Okay, so... First I walked into the bathroom to check on you- to make sure you were okay, and end up seeing you slammed against the wall, and getting punched in the nose. Because you decided to puke up your guts. not just that, but now I'm finding all of these... things?... on your arm(s)?” Jamie rants, a look of confusion clear on his face. “Care to explain?”
In response I look up at him solemnly and I no longer see the carefree Jamie that I met today, but an entirely new person. A caring person; a compassionate person... Maybe I can tell him…?
“I can tell you something about me...I guess, if it would help?” Jamie offers hesitantly. I can tell he doesn't open up to people often... Oh, well at least he's trying. It's sweet.
“ Only if you're okay with it.”
“Oh, umm... Sure. Okay so...? Where do I start?”
“ At the beginning- that always seems to help."
“ Hahaha. Funny.” Jamie retorts sarcastically.
“Just trying to lighten the mood.”
“Okay... How about this? If I tell you one thing, then you tell me something. And I tell you another thing, and you tell me something else...?”
“Sure.”
“Okay. I'll start with an easy one. You were probably going to figure it out in a few minutes anyway. So... I live with my grandmother, Lena, for... Reasons.”
“‘For reasons’. Nope- not going to work. Spill, Jamie. I will listen.”
“Well... It's complicated, but… my parents- and brother- are kind of, umm..homophobic” when he says this,, as if he's trying to gauge my reaction “and when they found out that I was gay” again , he glances at me “ they kind of, like, disowned me. To put it nicely. That's it. Any questions?”
“Umm, dude I feel you with the whole gay-parent hate thing. Just wanted to let you know... I'm here.”
“ Yeah, well look who's talking. Same here though, Mikey, but I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong.” He hints.
“Okay... Which one do you want to know? Bathroom incident or bruises?”
“Ummm...bruises.”
“....of course…. Well... It kind of all started when I was in, like, 7th grade. my dad left, and as a result my mom started drinking. A lot. It wasn't too bad, at first, but slowly progressed to where she was coming home with multiple bottles a day. It was like... With each mean bottle, the angry or she was. At me. It wasn't even that I did anything wrong... I guess she just... hates me. Well, I was content with her hating me, but apparently she wasn't, and soon she was hitting me with anything she could get her hands on. Glass bottles. Her fists. Metal containers. Anything that could leave a mark basically. This one right here…” I say lifting up my shirt, revealing more marks that dominated my skin, and pointing to a long scar that ran right under my rib cage “ is from when she somehow got hold of a knife.” Tears glinting in my eyes, I sit down, images of my mother on her alcohol-induced rampages burning through my mind. “That’s all.” I say, choking on sob. I've never told anyone that before...
“Oh Mikey, I'm so sorry... I hope you know this means I'm going to be keeping a close eye on you. Especially whenever you go home.”
I look up at him pleadingly. “No, please. I can't go back home tonight...please?”
“Why not?” well that was a dumb question…
“ My mom caught me trying to pour her alcohol down the drain this morning... And she was not happy.”
“Oh, ummm.... You're staying here. You can sleep in my room and I'll sleep on the couch.”
“No, I can't do that. You should--”
“I insist” Jamie declares, winking at me.
“Okay...I guess.”
“So... Lena is supposed to be home in less than 20 minutes so... What's next?”
Sign up to rate and review this story