In regards of Love

“I’m gay.”

There, I said it. Bomb dropped.

My mother was frozen, glass vase of flowers slowly slipping from her fingers.

Moments passed before the lovely roses and daffodils were scattered on the hardwood floor surrounded by glass

and a puddle of water.

Dad stood beside the stove, seeming t forget about supper for a moment.

“No.” Pointing a dagger like purple-painted finger at my chest, my mother moved to embrace me tightly, squeezing so hard I could hardly find room to breath.

“No, no baby you just confused.” It’s the way her family was raised, to hate the abnormal.

Anything Lgbtq was strictly a no, no​ to her family.

“Honey, that’s-,”

“No! My baby boy is not ​gay. You aren’t, you’re not-!” Eyes blurry, I shove her away, already beginning to back away towards the back door.

“I-I-H-how could you s-say that?”

Whimpering, I bolted out the back door, tripping over my

bare feet as I shoot down the street.

“Emery! Wait!” I could hardly hear my father calling for me with the wind blocking out my ears.

I just kept running.

Running until my lungs ached for air.

Running until-

Until my heels were raw and bloody-

and no one could hear my cries.

***

-Later-

Sometime after, about when I’d cried till there were no tears left, leaving my head fuzzy and heart empty.

I felt my phone buzz in my back pocket, the familiar ringtone I had set for my friend.

“Hello?” Whispering quietly as not to completely destroy my raw throat, I answer the caller.

“Emery?! Where are you? Nevermind, get your skinny ass down to the hospital! Aasp!” With that, Ava hung up, leaving me confused and worried.

What happened? Forgetting I was barfoot, and not to mention bleeding, I got up and started off at a dead sprint, clutching my phone in my hand as I raced back to town.

Arriving at the hospital, blooded bare feet leaving patches as I jogged into the emergency room, weezing.

“What….hap-happened?” I managed to ask between harsh wheezes, clutching my aching chest.

“Emery….y-your dad he….he went out to look for you when you took off.” Ava started, leading me over to a chair, gently helping me sit.

“W-well, uhm, there was a stop sign a-and he was on the phone with Christine, and a-a garbage truck-!” She whispered, curling up in a ball in her chair.

“W-wait, he’s n-not...He’s not dead​...is he?” She let out a quiet sob, head shaking back and forth, unable to answer.

Not even a moment later a doctor had come out, and confirmed that he was, indeed, dead.

“You! It’s your fault​! He wouldn’t be dead if you hadn’t said anything!” My mother was hysterical, her mascara running down her cheeks as she screamed and screamed at

me.

Distantaly, I could hear security dragging her out, telling her to calm down, and everything was okay, and other bull shit.

But, no matter what anyone told me-

She was right,

Dad was dead-

Because of me.