The Ghost of You
Chapter 6
Frank POV
Do you ever have those days where you completely feel like shit? Days where you just can’t get something out of your head? It’s something so nauseating and terrifying that you just can shake the anxiety and nervousness that is surrounding you? Well today is one of those days for me.
Today is Wednesday, and it is two days after the day that I came out to my mother. It is also known as my day to come out to my father. My mother has been anxious about it too, but I don’t think she understands how nervous I am, considering who my father is. My father is a self-employed insurance sales man, and he works alone. He is also the world’s most closed minded man ever. My father is old-fashioned, and to him, basically everything I do is wrong. I don’t tuck in my shirt, I don’t have correct etiquette, I listen to ‘satanic’ music, so I’m sure that homosexuality will really make him love me.
I am currently waiting for my dad to waltz through the front door like he does every day after work. Sitting on my bed and listening intently, I am almost calm. That is, until I hear the roar of his truck enter the drive way. The headlights flicker through my window, and shine over everything I own, leaving a huge spotlight on my Misfits poser before shutting off. His car clicks and locks, and I can hear the front door swing open and shut from down stairs. My mother and my father exchange words, and I can hear my name mentioned in muffled chatter.
With all my might, I pick myself off of my bed and out of the darkness of my room, and make my way through the hall and down the stairs to my family. I may seem calm on the outside, but on the inside, I am shaking like a little girl. We exchange small talk, the usual talk you have with your family in the evening, “How was school?” and “Did you have a good day?” There’s a knot in my throat the size of a baseball, and I can’t help but studder when I speak.
“D-Dad? C-C-Can we talk for a bit?” I ask, trying to be natural and utterly failing.
“Sure, son. What’s on your mind?” he says, putting his hand on my back and leading me to the kitchen table, taking a seat on the opposite side that I sit in.
“I have s-something really important to tell you, a-a-and I don’t know how you’ll react.” My dad shifts uncomfortably in his chair and raises his eyebrows intrigued, he clears his voice and continues.
“Go ahead, Frank.” He says, smiling an eager smile.
I take a deep breath but feel nothing enter my lungs but a sharp pain. I close my eyes in attempt to relax, but it only works a bit.
“Dad, I-I’m gay.” It feels like a huge relief to get those words out, but it leaves a different feeling in me, a pain in my chest that feel as heavy as a microwave.
“No. No you’re not. I know you’re not. You’re just confused, that’s all! You have been listening to too much of that damned music, that’s what it is! I knew the costumes would make you think disgusting! Your mother tried to convince me that it was your way of expressing yourself but I knew it would affect you! You are disgusting and you are NOT gay! You are a sin! Get out of my sight, I am ashamed of you!
My father screamed louder than I have ever heard him scream, his enraged voice echoed through the kitchen and my mother gasped at his tone. My face automatically began to burn and the tears that followed only make my cheeks feel hotter. My mother tried to calm him down as I ran up the stairs, but he was already in a state of uncontrollable rage. I took the stairs by twos in a rush to get out of there, when I got to my room; I slammed the door and let my tears finally come freely.
My fists beat the wall and my feet kicked everything that was in my path. The collar of my shirt was wet by the time I got in the room, and now it is soaked from my tears. I go to my bed and crawl up into my pillow, laying my face into it, screaming my heart out. Mindless screaming, obscenities, wishes for death, and wishes for other people swam through my mouth and found their way to my pillow. All the muffled shrieking in the world wouldn’t make me feel better, and it only made my throat harder to swallow with.
I get out of bed and walk into the bathroom, and I find myself looking in the mirror at my own reflection. My face is red and wet, and my eyes look irritated and empty. Staring at myself, a familiar feeling rushes into my blood stream and a familiar want begins to arise. I walk to the bathtub, and begin to run the water. In the medicine cabinet above the sink, I find myself reaching for an escape that I have long outgrown, but yet seems so soothing to begin at this moment.
I pull out a small rectangle, cool to the touch and a nostalgic object for me. I always promised that I was better than this, that I wouldn’t let old cravings and demons get me again, but for some reason, staring at the metal in my palm, I have never felt a bigger need to do anything. I pull off my jeans, not even bothering to take off my boxers or anything else, and submerge myself into the warm water. I turn the faucet off as soon as the tub is almost running over, and I let myself sink almost completely into the warmth. My head is still above, but I close my eyes and let myself go under, thinking about never coming up. I hold as long as I can, but it feels like an eternity.
As I bob back up for oxygen, I remember the help that I enlisted in my palm. I lift my right leg out of the water and let it rest on the side of the tub, while I continue to get comfortable. My thigh is striped, white scars that I earned from the war in 9th grade, the war that I never won. Everything is covered in scar tissue, and I am eager to make a change. I reach down with the metal, and let its cold seep into my flesh with one quick swipe on my leg. Crimson begins to dribble out and run into the water, and I am already making more as it hits the surface. This time, the stripes are deeper, and they make me cringe harder, but I don’t mind. I fight my tears to see as I make more and more, filling in places and renewing old ones. I even replace my felt right leg with my left in an attempt to increase the relief, and it somehow works.
It always works.
Do you ever have those days where you completely feel like shit? Days where you just can’t get something out of your head? It’s something so nauseating and terrifying that you just can shake the anxiety and nervousness that is surrounding you? Well today is one of those days for me.
Today is Wednesday, and it is two days after the day that I came out to my mother. It is also known as my day to come out to my father. My mother has been anxious about it too, but I don’t think she understands how nervous I am, considering who my father is. My father is a self-employed insurance sales man, and he works alone. He is also the world’s most closed minded man ever. My father is old-fashioned, and to him, basically everything I do is wrong. I don’t tuck in my shirt, I don’t have correct etiquette, I listen to ‘satanic’ music, so I’m sure that homosexuality will really make him love me.
I am currently waiting for my dad to waltz through the front door like he does every day after work. Sitting on my bed and listening intently, I am almost calm. That is, until I hear the roar of his truck enter the drive way. The headlights flicker through my window, and shine over everything I own, leaving a huge spotlight on my Misfits poser before shutting off. His car clicks and locks, and I can hear the front door swing open and shut from down stairs. My mother and my father exchange words, and I can hear my name mentioned in muffled chatter.
With all my might, I pick myself off of my bed and out of the darkness of my room, and make my way through the hall and down the stairs to my family. I may seem calm on the outside, but on the inside, I am shaking like a little girl. We exchange small talk, the usual talk you have with your family in the evening, “How was school?” and “Did you have a good day?” There’s a knot in my throat the size of a baseball, and I can’t help but studder when I speak.
“D-Dad? C-C-Can we talk for a bit?” I ask, trying to be natural and utterly failing.
“Sure, son. What’s on your mind?” he says, putting his hand on my back and leading me to the kitchen table, taking a seat on the opposite side that I sit in.
“I have s-something really important to tell you, a-a-and I don’t know how you’ll react.” My dad shifts uncomfortably in his chair and raises his eyebrows intrigued, he clears his voice and continues.
“Go ahead, Frank.” He says, smiling an eager smile.
I take a deep breath but feel nothing enter my lungs but a sharp pain. I close my eyes in attempt to relax, but it only works a bit.
“Dad, I-I’m gay.” It feels like a huge relief to get those words out, but it leaves a different feeling in me, a pain in my chest that feel as heavy as a microwave.
“No. No you’re not. I know you’re not. You’re just confused, that’s all! You have been listening to too much of that damned music, that’s what it is! I knew the costumes would make you think disgusting! Your mother tried to convince me that it was your way of expressing yourself but I knew it would affect you! You are disgusting and you are NOT gay! You are a sin! Get out of my sight, I am ashamed of you!
My father screamed louder than I have ever heard him scream, his enraged voice echoed through the kitchen and my mother gasped at his tone. My face automatically began to burn and the tears that followed only make my cheeks feel hotter. My mother tried to calm him down as I ran up the stairs, but he was already in a state of uncontrollable rage. I took the stairs by twos in a rush to get out of there, when I got to my room; I slammed the door and let my tears finally come freely.
My fists beat the wall and my feet kicked everything that was in my path. The collar of my shirt was wet by the time I got in the room, and now it is soaked from my tears. I go to my bed and crawl up into my pillow, laying my face into it, screaming my heart out. Mindless screaming, obscenities, wishes for death, and wishes for other people swam through my mouth and found their way to my pillow. All the muffled shrieking in the world wouldn’t make me feel better, and it only made my throat harder to swallow with.
I get out of bed and walk into the bathroom, and I find myself looking in the mirror at my own reflection. My face is red and wet, and my eyes look irritated and empty. Staring at myself, a familiar feeling rushes into my blood stream and a familiar want begins to arise. I walk to the bathtub, and begin to run the water. In the medicine cabinet above the sink, I find myself reaching for an escape that I have long outgrown, but yet seems so soothing to begin at this moment.
I pull out a small rectangle, cool to the touch and a nostalgic object for me. I always promised that I was better than this, that I wouldn’t let old cravings and demons get me again, but for some reason, staring at the metal in my palm, I have never felt a bigger need to do anything. I pull off my jeans, not even bothering to take off my boxers or anything else, and submerge myself into the warm water. I turn the faucet off as soon as the tub is almost running over, and I let myself sink almost completely into the warmth. My head is still above, but I close my eyes and let myself go under, thinking about never coming up. I hold as long as I can, but it feels like an eternity.
As I bob back up for oxygen, I remember the help that I enlisted in my palm. I lift my right leg out of the water and let it rest on the side of the tub, while I continue to get comfortable. My thigh is striped, white scars that I earned from the war in 9th grade, the war that I never won. Everything is covered in scar tissue, and I am eager to make a change. I reach down with the metal, and let its cold seep into my flesh with one quick swipe on my leg. Crimson begins to dribble out and run into the water, and I am already making more as it hits the surface. This time, the stripes are deeper, and they make me cringe harder, but I don’t mind. I fight my tears to see as I make more and more, filling in places and renewing old ones. I even replace my felt right leg with my left in an attempt to increase the relief, and it somehow works.
It always works.
Please write more!! I love it so far
2/14/14