Opposites

What would the world be like if Gay was right, and straight was wrong? This story follows the lives of a group of friends.

Just as a heads up, I am writing this on a google.docs with my best friend, Emily M. (last name hidden for safety) and you can find her on Tumblr at @artzypaw. We are writing this story together.

Please leave suggestions and POSITIVE reviews.

Love you!

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23. Nicole

The hospital was not bad at all. The aftermath was worse.

When I left the hospital, I only left with Lionel. Linda had died due to the disease. Paul never visited us at the hospital. He didn't drive us home. He was there when we got back, but another woman was there as well. She was walking around in lingerie that barely covered anything. I shielded Lionel's eyes.

Paul came outside looking for us later. We were outside all day because of him and his lady friend. He asked where Linda was, and I couldn't say anything. I told him she's dead. He collapsed into a fit of tears, I never actually saw that side of him before. Maybe he actually loved her. Then I think back to the times where he would beat her unconscious.

Paul’s been blaming me for her death.

He says it everyday: “You did it, are you happy? You ruined our lives.” and then he slaps me across the face. I’ve learned to take the slaps, and cry later.

 

 

 

 

I’ve cut my hair. I cut all of it off. Short on the sides, long on the top. I needed a new start to my life, and that was the only way I thought could change it. I didn’t do so well at first, but I later went to a salon and they fixed my split ends into a beautiful pixie-cut. Not my intention but it’s fine.

I get home after school, dreading the fact that my Uncle’s home early; his truck parked into the driveway. Quietly entering the house, I scope the place for Paul.

It’s clear.

“Get up you sh…” I hear him grumble on the other side of the room. I feel my stomach knot. I didn’t want him to touch me. Tip-toeing my way to his voice I end up near his bedroom. The door was cracked but I peek through the keyhole to find myself looking at him in bed with another woman, a different woman. She’s passed out next to him and he’s shaking her vigorously muttering, “I’m not done, I’m not done…” Oh God! If I leave and come back a couple minutes later he’ll hurt me for being late. If I stay and go to my room he’ll hurt me because he’d think I was eavesdropping (Which I am).

I run to my room as quietly as I could and shut my door. Lionel is, too, passed out on a bed; my bed. I carefully place my book bag near my dresser and climb into bed with my sick brother.

“Hey, how are you?” I whisper to him, my voice barely audible. I’m not risking Paul hearing me. My cousin lets out a small “Hmm…” and I cover his mouth quickly.

“Shhh, Paul is next door. I’d feed you but last time I did, I killed your mom and got you sick. Plus myself.” I release my grip and lay next to him, pulling the blanket over him some more. He had a huge fever.

His dark skin was as pale as a baby’s ass and his black hair was spread across his face. He was covered in sweat and when he made noises it took all I had not to cower away. I really didn’t want Paul to hear him while his guest was here.

I set down to do my homework, and I hear Paul wake the girl up, and continue his… routine. Lionel gets out a crayon and I pull out the dresser by the bed and he colours behind it. We do this all the time. I can't spare my paper so we draw on the wall behind dressers and doors. I continue my homework, and Lionel continues to draw.

Maybe thirty minutes after coming home, a hear Paul kick the girl out. “But I thought you loved me!” She shrieks.

“Love? You?” He laughs.

I think nothing of it. Paul then bursts into the room. His hair is matted to his face, and he is in a white bathrobe he stole from a motel we stayed in. I shut my books, and back away from him. He looks at me, but says and does nothing. Instead, he turns to Lionel who is still drawing on the wall.

“What, the hell are you doing to my walls?” He yells, outraged.

“I-I… Daddy, I’m sorry,” Lionel pleads.


Then, Paul leans down, and slaps Lionel across the face as hard as he can.

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