you, huh Madd? And why didn’t I invite you to dinner?” He shrugs. “Didn’t think you’d care.”
My jaw drops. “Since when wouldn’t I care?” I always care about food. And fuckfuckfuck, I’d forgotten all about the girl.
His jaw clenches in response. “I guess since you decided it’s time for a purge and you need to rid your system of any trace of me,” he says accusingly. “I can’t even remember the last time you were over here, Maddox. Can you?”
My throat tightens in shame at the truth of his words. It’s been years since the truth of my sexuality became a known truth instead of a guarded secret. It was rocky at first and wasn’t something I was capable of fully accepting.
Growing up, my mom did the best she could. For most of my life she was a single mother and did what she could to keep us fed with a roof over our heads. While commendable, there was a downfall. Mainly due to the fact that to give us those things, my mom got dressed each night and lost a piece of her soul as she waited for a John to pick her up from the corner of Collins and Grand.
It was a sacrifice she was willing to make for me and herself, but when the chance to escape that life came, she latched on with both hands.
She married Pete when I was ten years old. We thought he was the answer to all of our dreams. He had a great job, a nice house in a good neighborhood, neighbors with kids that I could play with. Life was finally looking up.
I was twelve years old the first time he raped me, and I realized my happiness had been traded for my mother’s. And while she was in heaven with our new life, I was in hell.
It was a classic child and predator situation. He manipulated my body and used my most private places against me. Taunting me, convincing me that since I came, no one would believe I didn’t want it. When those threats weren’t enough, he reminded me of everything he had given me and my mom and how sad she would be if it all went away.
His plan worked. My mom was everything to me. She hung the moon and stars, and I would do anything to protect her. Even if it meant dying every day at his hands.
For two years, the home that was once a dream had become my nightmare. It wasn’t until I was fourteen that my gym teacher noticed fingerprint bruising along my back and shoulders when I was changing in the locker room before class.
When class was over, he asked me to stay behind and meet him in his office. When I arrived, it was to find not only my gym teacher but also the school counselor and the principal in his office waiting for me.
I was fuckin’ terrified. I didn’t know what I had done to get in trouble, but it didn’t matter, it was going to break my mom’s heart and enrage Pete all at the same time.
After I took a seat, it became clear why I was there. Since my gym teacher and principal were both men, I was wary of them. But with one soft spoken question from the sweet school counselor, the already fraying thread that had been holding me together for the past two years snapped.
I’ll never forget her tears as I cried my truth to them. I’ll also never forget my mother’s face when she was told.
Looking back years later, I still wonder if it would have hurt her less had I told her right away. I’ve always wondered if it was the fact it happened for so long or the fact I hid it that hurt the most.
It’s a question I’ll never get the answer to. The ever-present crack in my chest caves a little deeper, proving yet again that time doesn’t heal all wounds. Mom died the year after I graduated high school in a car accident on her way home from work. At the ripe age of nineteen, I was completely and utterly alone in the world.
Desolation deepens its already firm hold and threatens to pull me even farther into its depths. A shiver races down my spine and I force the dark memories from my head. Trips down memory lane never end well for me and I’m man enough to admit that I’d rather run than face the pain and