Prologue
end of October
My eyes open wide and I sit up quickly. I clutch my heart while grasping for my next breath as a cold sweat drips down my back. Nearly every night for the last month and a half has been the same. The same black eyes staring at me; the same puckered mouth reaching for my own as he sucks my soul from me; the cold, bony fingers reaching for my throat that’s emitting a silent scream from somewhere deep within me. I try to struggle away from the monster who has his claws on me, but I can’t move. The darkness and the cold surround me as I feel the monster draining the life right out of me. But I always wake up from the nightmare just before the monster’s claws sink into my throat like butter.
My life plays out nearly the same way as my dreams do. It’s one hellish day after the other. After I started my sophomore year of school, a month and a half ago, things changed. My freshman year was easy. I was invisible, the way I wanted it to be. No one knew me, no one bothered me, and I was less than a blip on the radar.
I sit in bed still grabbing my fast beating heart as I slowly come back to reality. A quiet tear rolls down my cheek at the thought of having to spend another day in the same space as Finn Abbott and his group. But then I remember, I won’t see them today. My sudden happiness is replaced with a flinch as I wipe the lone tear away and slowly make my way out of bed. My stomach still hurts from where Finn’s buddies repeatedly punched and kicked me by the water fountain yesterday.
When I make it to the bathroom, I face the mirror. My eyes are still puffy from crying myself to sleep. My hair sticks to my face where the tears dried up at. I lower my hands to the hem of my shirt and lift it slowly above my head. The purple and black bruises are slightly bigger today than yesterday. I lightly splay my fingers over my stomach but wince when I accidentally brush over a sensitive spot, and I remember back to the day it all started.
I wasn’t your typical sixteen-year-old boy. I wasn’t loud or boisterous. I wasn’t an athlete, a band geek, a goth, or a pot-head. I was just regular, plain, and lanky, Grayson Lee. And gay. I didn’t hide it, but I certainly didn’t flaunt it.
Until a month and a half ago, art was my life. Paints, oils, crayons, markers, and even digital media was at my beck and call. Anything I could use to create the vibrant images in my head was game. And I created a lot. That is until I was assigned to paint that picture. It all boiled down to Finn.
When I went to class, his minions followed. They taunted me, tormented me, teased me. All because I saw the beauty within the man, not just the dumb jock. I didn’t have a crush on him; I just saw the beautiful bright aura that enveloped him. My painting was simply a vision of Finn and in return? So far, the results have gone from crap to shit.
The attacks were gradual. Name calling, and the constant shoving turned into attacks on my home, physical altercations, and threats of death.
I tried to stop them. I told my mom, Summer, my two best friends, Hudson and Aster, my boyfriend Logan, and I even tried to bring it up with the principal at school. But being a decent sized public school in Houston, Texas, with bigger problems than a troubled student, and having absolutely zero proof, there was nothing anyone could do.
Now, after nearly two months of constantly being berated, of crying myself to sleep, and endless days of watching over my shoulder, I decided that it was time to take my life into my own hands.
I brush my teeth, but the thought makes me laugh as the brush goes back and forth across my teeth. With my plans for today, clean teeth aren’t required. Neither is a shower, but I turn the water on after I spit out the foamy remains of the toothpaste.
I guess when it’s all said and done, I want to look good for mom. My vision blurs as I think of her. God, I’m going to miss her so much. She was my best friend. She loved and accepted me as I was, no questions asked.
When my shower is done, and I’m dry, I walk to my closet and pull out the black suit I ironed yesterday. Mom would have laughed if she saw me attempting that monstrosity. Along with a white shirt and a sage green tie around the neck that makes my hazel eyes sparkle, according to Aster, I lay it all on my bed.
More tears fall as I get dressed in my Sunday best. My heart and body feel heavy like I have lead pumping through my veins. But I know better. I know that inside me actually lies a broken and beaten down soul.
Getting dressed is hard, but I finally have the complete suit on, tie and all. As the light shines through my second-floor window, a watery smile spreads across my face. It’s a beautiful day outside; one mom would have loved spending outdoors at the beach. Too bad it doesn’t match the darkness that is slowly eating me alive inside. Today is about death. Today is about saying goodbye.
I palm the spot that lays over my heart and try to rub the ache out of it. I feel tired from no sleep, and I get on the bed and lay down. I once again smile as I think about the rest that will come to me soon.
I situate myself in the middle of the bed, and I smooth down my suit. Mom would have hated to see me in something wrinkly, and I just want to think that I’m pleasing her with my choices. I want to look like the put together young man she raised by herself for sixteen years. I look to my right, and I notice the things I laid out on the table the night before. Four letters, a picture of Hudson, Aster and I, one of Logan and I, and another picture of mom and I. I pick the one of her and I up and place a kiss on it. Her bright smile always made me feel better, even on the days that Finn and his gang made me feel the worst.
I put the picture down and pick up the final item, a razor blade. On the bed to my left sits my phone and I press play when the music app appears. The song that I’ve been listening to for weeks’ plays back on the screen – Black Orchid by Blue October.
I hear a noise downstairs, but I ignore it. I’m home alone, and it will be hours before anyone needs me. I push the sleeves of my coat and shirt up a couple of inches. I press the cool metal of the blade against my left wrist. In one quick slide, vertically down, a crimson line overtakes my pale skin. The sharp intake of my breath is replaced with an outtake of relief and calmness. I do the same with my other wrist.
Aching pain turns into soothing pleasure. Months of agony and heartache and sorrow pour out of my veins. I let out an audible sigh as relief washes over me.
As I lay my wounded hands on the bed next to me, it’s as if I hear my mother’s voice one last time, guiding me into death. At least I can go feeling happy with her voice in my head. I feel myself going numb, and my eyelids become heavy.
A sudden intrusion into my room in the form of my mother, frantic and yelling at me, grants me a last moment of tranquility. As a fresh tear rolls down my cheek, I accept the peacefulness I feel knowing that my mother’s face, the calming and gentle face I’ve always known, is the last thing I see before I black out.
Finn won’t win this time.