My days being close to Narnia had finally come to a glorious end by virtue of my latest video. A hit video.
“I’ve been ratted out. My parents will disown me and the rest of the family will reject me. Oh my younger brother! I’m supposed to be an example to him. Oh! Pete sake! How would I cope with this level of popularity? How would I cope with the stigma that would follow it?” With these thoughts I walked away from school on stealth mode, trying as hard as possible to avoid situations that would need me signing autographs.
My tears formed a sliver lake that slithered across my chocolate brown no pimpled face. It was hot. It felt like my eyes was a den to a lava monster.
Just then I felt an object hit me on the back of my head. “Just a football,” I thought as I turned around slowly and saw a silhouette through my misty vision. After a lot of rigorous eyes rubbing and wishing it was a mirage, I made out the figure of Mathew and five other boys. Timothy and Frederick inclusive.
I was terrified. “Who opened Hell’s gate” I muttered under my breath. These were my friends, or should I say, my teammates. My fellow dancers.
They looked angry and vicious like a mob with a sole purpose of lynching their target, guilty or without trial.
I felt like running but my body wouldn’t move. My legs developed a mind of its own which at that point screamed “weak!” “So weak! I can’t move. I can’t feel myself.”
I was abandoned there by my own scrawny legs at their mercy as if they had any to spare. For they not only looked angry or determined to kill, but they also looked intimidating.
All of a sudden, Matthew, the dark hair, black eye, not too tall, but extremely handsome boy started laughing and the others followed him into a massive fit of laughter.
“Sorry boys, I couldn’t keep up the act. Did you see his face?” He said in between his chesty dry and annoying laughter. “I wished I paid attention in drama classes, I would have been able to honour this script.” he continued.
I, on the other hand, was more confused than my octogenarian maternal grandmother who’s always on the blues whenever things relating to the internet was mentioned.
“No worries Dude. Relax! You look like you have just seen the Devil.” Frederick said jolting me out of a daze I went in, for he was drop-dead and alive kind of gorgeous.
“Yes I have just seen six fine as Heaven Devils walk out of Hell itself.” I thought to myself allowing my eyes to study their faces, their well built athletic body, and how good they would be on bed.
“You really had to think about that?” I asked myself in mock ignorance.
Just then, Matthew walked up to me and hugged me. I blushed, literally. Not knowing what to do I allowed air to escape my voice box producing a squeaky sound, “you guys don’t hate me?”. Their faces wore the answer to my question. But, I was still goddamn confused.
Frederick resumed laughing and the others, one after the other, joined him. Gradually, they came to what I perceived as a commercial break, Because as Matthew’s eyes rose from the ground to my face he laughed even harder causing the others to double over. I thought I was being mocked, cause they all laughed like a digit of a pentadactyl structure graced their intergluteal crack.
“Phew!” Timothy exclaimed. “C’mon Bro! You’re like a brother to us. We can’t hate you because of who you choose to Love”. He sounded honest and the creases on his face agreed with him.
Just then, my Stuttermania, my Demon of Awkward disposition from the Land of Edom, took over my larynx. “God I hate this Demon!” I sighed within me. “Th… Th… Thank you.” I stammered which left me with a deep hunger to close my eyes. That, I did. Then Joy washed over my face but sadness was quick to rinse it.
“What’s wrong Kel? Shouldn’t you be happy you are finally out and accepted? You are tasting freedom.” Matthew said with a voice burdened with confusion as he read the placards of feelings on my face.
“My parent!” I murmured to their hearing. After a long pause with an unnerving silence and a serious cursory study of the contours and details of the floor beneath my feet “they will never accept me” I said as I broke into a soft sob.
Frederick, the most handsome of us all, I’d swear I had never known that fact until when he looked at me with a sympathetic touch to his gaze, like a lovestruck Hades beholding his Persephone, “If they don’t, I will”
“Wh… What!?” I seemed more confused than an engineer in a human anatomy class and very unsure of what I heard.
“You can come to stay with me in mi casa” he said crossing his hearts and making a symbol of love with his hands placed on his chest, then he waved his hands to the air “Mi casa! Su casa!”
“I… I… Don’t know!” I whispered not sure if it was the right thing to say.
“Just know I’m there if you need me, anytime, call me.” He said hinting at something with a wink and a raised brows and a matching ‘call me’ sign with his hands on his ears.
“Could he be…? No. No way!” My mind was noisy as I forced a smile his way, feeling a lot closer to being better, but I was not. Not good at all.
“Now go home and face what’s waiting for you boy. Even if they break your bones, they won’t kill you” Matthew advised with a soft smile plastered on his face.
I regarded him with a nod. I was still nervous. Who in my situation wouldn’t be?
I ran to my house trying all I could do to keep the tears from drying. A task I found both Herculean and easy.
I got home as if everything was already predestined, my parents’ cars were parked in the garage. “They are already back.” I thought to myself.
I walked in through the gates with a mind blank as that of the Oracle of Daphne, ironically, a lot was going on in there. A sequence of gobbled thoughts not even comprehensible by me, its Creator.
Not knowing what to expect, I sneaked into the sitting room with an effort not to make even a ‘needle dropping in an ocean’ sound. I was successful. But as I turned around to begin the journey to my room, my parent and younger brother were just sitting there, staring at me like they knew what part of the house I planned to sneak in from. The word “Busted!” was printed boldly in my mind’s cinema.
“Oh great! Just what I needed.” I murmured to myself as I lowered my head hoping for the worst to happen. And I bet I could say I was ready for it as I kept chanting “bring it on fam”, and trying as much as possible to be calm. That effort was fruitless. I was visibly shaking like a four-leaf clover dancing a salsa tune to the summer breeze.
My Dad stood up and made his way towards me, or was it to the door. At that moment I secretly pleaded to Hades, “Take my soul right now, would you? Just open this ground and I will do you the favour of jumping in face first, a show for you and your Queen to giggle at.”
“We know and we don’t care.” Proclaimed my Dad in his usual deep formal baritone voice. He made his way through the door leaving me a parting gift, a double pat on my shoulder.
A shocked look transversed my face. That was the only expression my Expression Central Reservoir had to loan.
“What!?” A reasonable speech carrying air suddenly escaped my speech box after series of “ugh, uh, ug, ah, eh, enh, oh and uhmmm” in a rather scattered but repetitive pattern. Not getting anything that just happened I looked like a student of English, with a dissecting set and in a histopathology laboratory. I was that confused.
“Son!” Waiting for me to recollect myself, my Mom said “we’ve known since you were a little boy” affirming I was not in Lala land.
“Uhmmm…” I replied.
“The signs have been there all along, and we are not too happy you didn’t tell us.” My mom literally dragged me out of my confusion induced trance.
I couldn’t believe it. My parents accepting me was the one thing I never expected, even in my almost four billion possible outcomes.
“I’m free at last,” I said as I turned to walk up the stairs that led to my room. I reached for my phone to call up the guys. I had Frederick in mind.
“Goodnight Kiddo!” I threw at my younger brother as I ran up the stairs, too impatient to make out his response.
It was great news. Another trouble was gone.
This, in reality, is most likely to be a lie.
This is how it actually happened.
It became public to the whole school who my heart beats for, by a video uploaded by the one my heart beats for.
I was the talk of the school. I went from being a nerd and belonging in the matching band to being bland and popular.
My ‘Bring to light’ video was trending. My sexuality was everyone’s preferred topic. But, I, on the other hand, was an object for spitting on and throwing harsh words at.
I became a School Celebrity.
I was influential enough to cause the sexiest jocks of the school soccer team to approach me. One would have thought they came for an autograph, to leave their Signature on me. But hitting a ball on a celebrity’s head is a sure way to say “bye-bye autograph!”
I was beaten up black and blue and purple by the jocks. I was pulpy when they were done. I felt like I was gutted alive. After they had succeeded in leaving their signatures on me, they spat on me, urinated on me, and threw me into a comfortable garbage bin.
What a great way of treating a Celeb!
When I got home, stinky and looking like I lost a battle against Mike Tyson, Undertaker and Common Cena, I aimed at just going into my room and sleeping and forgetting all that ever happened. I deserved it, peace and quiet was all I craved for.
Just as I stepped into the house, a force releases its strongest influence on my Mom and Dad. Was that influence hate? I don’t know, but it was strong enough to be it.
My Dad and Mom beat me in front of my younger brother, ignoring the bruises I brought home like a trophy, they cared less. They were, I suppose, trying to show my brother an example of what would happen to him, his fate. And in so doing probably created a phobia in him that could be strong enough to mar my kind.
As if that wasn’t enough, the ultimate cure was arranged for me, what pained me more was that it was suggested by my own biological mother. Is it not supposed to be in her ‘biology’ to take care of me, the ultimate cure wasn’t caretaking, far from it.
It has been three months now and “flee from him oh you unclean spirit” has been the most used sentence around me. Sprinkles of holy water bathes me twice daily. Costly perfumed olive oil was poured on me constantly, never drying, at some point I thought I was being prepared for the oven or to be grilled or to be roasted on coal or probably in Hell as the preacher man always dressed in black and white-collar keeps saying.
I am starved for fasting. And during prayers, I am asked to “come out of it.” As if I choose to go into it. As if I choose who my heart beats for. Perhaps they forgot, or, do they even know?
When I was offered a meal, it was barely a morsel. “Demons like you aren’t supposed to be treated well.” they’ll say, as they threw the miserable Brunchner (Breakfast lunch and dinner in one) at the very clean, daily vacuumed pure silver tiling, I called floor. I’d eat it. I had no hope for another, as meals for demons was not a common thing. The floor to my Mansion was similar to that of an unkempt abandoned prison yard and it was colder than a metal rod in the North Pole.
“I’m giving up!” I said to myself. Since God does not want to hear their cries and deliver me and won’t even listen to my humble plea and take this cup away. “I will help them all.” I continued, “I can’t be that demon they hate if I was dead, and I wouldn’t feel this pain either.”
“I’ll end this” became my mantra for a month. If only the listened closely to me, they should have heard me.
He gets up, walks to the Bathroom of his prison of four months. He picks a razor he hid under the water closet. A razor he stole as they exorcist was busy slicing wounds on the sole of his feet.
Calmly, he placed the razor on the softest part of his forearm, just a few inches away from his wrist.
He takes in a deep breath and relaxed.
A sudden relief flooded him, so strange, but very calm.
“I know I did nothing wrong” he cried allowing tears to clean his perfectly dusty and malnourished face.
He cuts through his flesh, with just a little bit of flinching, deeper he went, ensuring he was deep enough he made an oblique cut downwards, a step that made sure his vessels sustained severe damages.
Everything was woozy when I opened my eyes after a long while. My arms suffered from astasia. I couldn’t feel anything.
I looked up to behold a whitish sky, with blades turning round and producing a squeaky sound. I noticed I was barricaded with blue all around me and tubes went in and out of me. The smell of stale blood, mixed with that of drugs and disinfectant hung on the air.
Then I heard a voice, laden with compassion and sympathy saying “Sorry Pastor, He won’t be able to make it. We’ve tried all we can for him for the past eight hours and we are not making any progress. His systems are very weak and infiltrated and he lost too much Blood before being brought here. It’s a miracle he’s even alive. He’s a fighter” the Lady in white said. A look that I didn’t know could appear on the pastor’s face did show up. Was it concern? No! He is probably too holy to feel concern for a dying Demon like me.
I took one look at my little brother and felt bad. He was barely seven and I’m leaving him alone with those bullies for parent. “Be strong” I meant to say to him, but all that left my mouth was a huff of air. I could tell he’d forever hate me as he mouthed please “don’t leave me.” “If only I could!” I thought to myself. If only he knew how hard I fought. But I was tired. I have tried.
I struggled one last time to look at my parent. They were sorry and they wore their regrets well. I couldn’t even make out what they were saying, but it was too late to be what I wanted to hear. If only they said it yesterday. But it doesn’t matter anymore, They’d probably remind me how much of a demon I was and how I was doomed to hell.
My eyes became heavier than necessary. My head ached. My lips quivered. My eyelids seemed to have acquired an amazing weight.
“M… M… Mom. Dad…” I whispered and they came closer, to take one last look on their demon child. My dad sighed and a crocodile tear stole away from his eyes. Then he walked away, dragging my little brother with him.
Probably telling him how much of a disgrace I was to the family. My mom shamelessly let her tears fall freely on this demon child she had termed an abomination and wished she had aborted. I wish I could tell her not too waste her tears on me. She had lost me four months ago when she sentenced me to my death by suggesting the ultimate treatment. “Nothing is too big for God” she had told my dad.
She leaned forward and kissed my forehead, and through my cloudy vision I saw it. I saw the pain in her eyes. I wished she had done this months ago when I walked in with the bruises. I would have been a better warrior if I had her by my side. But it was already too late. Very late.
I could feel the numbness swallow up my feet, then my legs, and all the way to my lungs.
With the last breath and strength I had, I opened my mouth to speak. “I Lo…”
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