A/n: Did this for a school assignment because I clearly have an obsession with Glee. SMH
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters.
I Don't Say Anything
My life is ruined. That's the only thing that keeps running through my head as I sit in this room. My black duffle bag is laying at my feet as I sit on the bottom bunk of one of the two bunk beds in this room. This place smells weird. Not disgusting or anything, just weird. It smells nothing like my house, or rather the house I grew up in. It smells like this place has been lived in many times over. My eyes are staring at my clasped hands sitting in my lap and I almost jump when I feel a drop of water on my thumb. My hand immediately hits my cheek and I let out a small gasp. I didn't even know I was crying but it doesn't surprise me. I wipe my face and my eyes travel over the room and land on a cardboard box in the room. The box is full of disorderly clothes but that's not what catches my eye. What does are the words scribbled on the side in a black sharpie marker. Helping Hand: Shelter for Runaways.
For just a second I ask myself how I got here but then I remember what my life has been like the past few years and what transpired in the last 24 hours and I remember. I remember all too well. The first time I ever heard the word, I was nine years old. Our school decided it would be cute to throw a mock senior prom for the fourth graders since it was our last year at the elementary school. I was standing in my room as my mom pulled out dress after dress for me to try on. After the fifth dress I was becoming impatient because she couldn't decide on anything. I huffed and told her I would just wear pants and a jacket to the dance and my mother stopped. She smiled and shook her head as she patted me on the head and told me I couldn't do that. I asked her why I couldn't since my best friend Noah was wearing it. He had told me earlier that day that his mother had bought it especially for the dance. "Do you want everyone to think you're gay?" my mother asked with a laugh and turned back to the closet to continue riffling through the dresses. I didn't know what it meant but I knew it wasn't good. Obviously people weren't supposed to think I was gay so I stayed silent until she finally produced a dress to her liking. I hated it but I didn't say anything.
My family was always a very strict family growing up. We were also a very strict Christian family that were in church every day it was open. Sunday morning we were there for Sunday school and service, Wednesday we were there for bible study, ect. Both my father and mother both came from fairly wealthy family so we lived comfortably, well that depends on who you ask. My father was one of the top lawyers in the state of Ohio. He was a partner at a very big firm that had many connections in cities such as New York City, Los Angeles and of course, Washington D.C. He wasn't home much but when he was, he was the dictator in the house. My mother was a stay at home mom that did most of the cooking a cleaning, aside from the chores my sister and I did. She didn't get out much but she didn't seem to mind. Whatever made my father happy seemed to make her happy. Well that and a three glasses of wine a day. My older sister played the role of the perfect daughter. She maintained a 4.0. GPA all through high school, she was the head cheerleader in both middle and high school. She graduated Valedictorian of her class and married a nice Christian boy after heading off to school at Harvard. I was expected to follow in her footsteps. I hated it but I didn't say anything.
The first time I began questioning if this word described me or not was during my freshman year in high school. It was easy to avoid in middle school because while many of my friends became interested in the different boys I credited my grades on why I didn't feel the same way. My friends never questioned it knowing how strict my father was. Also it wasn't like it mattered since my parents had told me multiple time that's that I wasn't allowed to date until I was at least fifteen. It wasn't until I made cheer-leading captain during freshman year did I begin noticing something was different. I was the most popular girl in school even if I was only a freshman. Guys were lining up to go out with me and carry my books to class but none of them caught my eye. I thought that maybe I just had to wait for the right guy to come into my line of vision before I went completely giddy like my other friends who were 'in love' with their boyfriends. That guy never came but a girl surely did. I met the girl in my gym class during the second semester of my freshman year. Her name was Rachel. We immediately became friends and I began to understand what my other friends were talking about when they described what happened to them when they were around a boy they liked. My stomach felt queasy, my palms got sweaty and I talked way too much when I was around her but she didn't seem to mind. That's when I realized that I had a crush on a girl. I hated it but I didn't say anything.
The door opening brings me back to the present and my head snaps to the left. A girls walks in holding her small round belly with a bright smile. She introduces herself as Brittany. I can only guess that she was forced to run away or kicked out of her house because she had gotten pregnant, but I don't ask. She takes a seat across from me on the other bunk bed and begins talking. I try to listen to the words that are coming out of her mouth but my mind keeps drifting. How can she seem so happy when she's in a place like this, no longer with her family. I voice my questions and she smiles. She tells me that she was just like me when she first got here but the people here quickly became her family. They could never take the place of the family she had lost but she much rather be here where she could be herself than where she was before where she was forced to be someone she wasn't. I understand completely and I feel a sigh of relief escape my mouth.
I couldn't like a girl that way. There was no way. People that liked the same sex were going to hell. They were horrible people that didn't deserve to walk on earth with the rest of us. They were disgusting. I kept telling myself that over and over again as I stared at myself in the mirror of my bedroom. After about the thirtieth time I knew nothing had changed. I still couldn't stop the butterflies in my stomach as I thought of hanging out with Rachel at school. No! I was the head cheerleader. I was the most popular girl in school. I could have any boy I wanted. I could have any boy I wanted but I didn't want any boy, I wanted a girl. I wanted Rachel. Did it matter though, that I wanted Rachel? I didn't even know if she liked girls in that way. I wanted to tell her but I couldn't. I didn't know what else to do so I turned to my best friend. I needed someone to talk to and she was my only chance. Telling her was the biggest regret of my life. After she had finished telling me how disgusting and inhuman I was, things I already knew, she decided that wasn't good enough. I didn't even see the first blow as I walked to my car after school the next day, but I felt it. The pain shot through my stomach and before I could grab it another pain made contact with my face. I did my best to cover my head as punch after punch and kick after kick made contact with my body while voices shouted 'dyke', 'lesbo', 'queer', and other words I rather not think about. I lay on the ground crying long after the voices and the blow disappeared but the pain stayed. It stayed for a long time. I knew what I had to do but I didn't want to. I wanted to talk myself out of it but I had to do it. I hated it but I didn't say anything.
After I told my parents they just say there in silence for a long time, staring at me. My mother opened her mouth few times but closed it before she said anything. I wanted to look away so bad but I knew I couldn't. I kept my eyes trained on them and matched their glare as they did the same for me. After about five minutes of silence my father stood up and walked towards me, my mother and I watching his every move. I was expecting to get hit but instead he just sat down next to me and sighed. He told me that I could relax and that he didn't hate me. He knew I tried to change but I couldn't. I stared in disbelief but I felt a huge weight lift from my shoulders. I began to smile but his next words brought the weight right back and then some. He told me that I could get help and he would check around. He told me that I could be cured from this disease and then we could all be family again. My mother didn't say anything, she just stared at the carpet. I felt myself shake my head before my brain could even process what I was doing. I saw the coldness I knew so well return to his eyes and before I could duck away the pain on the side of my face was back. I cupped my cheek and stared at him in horror. My father had never laid a hand on me. He looked just as shocked as I did. He opened his mouth as if we were going to apologize but shook his head and said the words I had been so afraid to hear since I first realized I was different. "I want you out of my house now." he demanded. My mother didn't say a word. I hated it but I didn't say anything.
I stared back down at the bag at my feet and sighed. Brittany had long ago disappeared when she realized I kept staring into space, obviously needing some time alone. The bag that was stuffed with sixteen years of my life that I had managed to pack in just under twenty minutes, all the while under the hateful stare of my father. The one man that was never supposed to hurt me or break my heart had done both in a matter of minutes. It's amazing how much you miss the little things when you are forced to go without them. I miss my stuffed lamb that my grandmother gave me on my fifth birthday and the journal that I had written in everyday since my tenth birthday, both of which I forgot to grab and would probably never see again. My cell phone vibrates in the pocket of my bag and reach down to grab it. I see the name on the screen and immediately pick it up. Two words that I've been denied from everyone else are spoken and a small smile comes to my face. "I'm here." I hang up the phone and pull myself to my feet. I walk out of the room and through the living room where many other teenagers are laughing and talking. I smile back at Brittany before pulling open the front door and walking out. Before my foot reaches the last step she's in front of me and pulling me into her arms, telling me everything will be okay. I smile through the tears and hug her back. She doesn't know of my true feeling for her and maybe I'll never tell her. I don't need that right now and neither does she. What we need is this. She's my friend, my only true friend I realize. I might love her, but I don't say anything.