"What to wear, what to wear...?" I wonder to myself as I glance to array of clothing tossed on my bed in front of me. I eye the black skinny jeans, my usual go-to. "Maybe I should go with something different this time, though…" I mumble, biting my lip, which had been an old habit of mine I've been desperately trying to get rid of. Despite what some people may think, it's not a cute habit. Really, it's only sexy, or cute at first; but then your lips become all chapped and dry. You get scabs that are trying to heal all over that nasty mouth. God, don't even bother talking to me when it's cold and dry out. One word out of my mouth and I have blood pouring out of my lip, like some anime dude's nose. Not fun. Not sexy. But addicting.

With a huff, shaking my thoughts on my terrible addiction. I decide to go with my intuition and grab my second favorite pair of skinny jeans. It had dark blotches of blue mixed with a white, or light blue, meddling in the background. It was slightly ripped at my thighs, which gave me a lot of dirty looks whenever I wore them in public, since most people found it ridiculous to buy pre-ripped jeans. It's a good thing I really don't care.

Now, I should probably explain, because right now it sounds like I am living in the 1950s or something as equally ridiculous. I live in Buffalo New York, which, again, I'm probably throwing you through another loop. Something like Louisiana, or something probably makes more sense, I mean it's 2017, who isn't wearing skinny jeans? Honestly, I'm with ya, really. It's not the hometown, mostly. Apparently we are top ranking in homophobic tweets in America, which is pretty cool. Glad to know we aren't half-assing it.

Anyways, this is more my parent's and the family's crowd. You see, we happen to be very family-oriented! By that I mean, we all put on our nice dresses and suits at uncle Jimmy's and write down a mental note of what everyone is saying wrong to Facebook feud about later. I hope that's enough of an explanation, because this is probably my least favorite thing to talk about. So, to summarize: my family is basically a lot of old people with really old idealisms that seems to be passed down through generations. My mom's probably the only cool one. At least, I thought so.

With only the shirt left to go, I heard my parents yelling from across the house. "Sakura, you better get your ass in here, now!"

I silently cursed to myself as I glance at the clock, realizing I had taken over an hour to pick out an outfit. With a groan I grabbed the first shirt I saw and threw it on. Quickly using the ponytail holder that was on my wrist, I put my hair in a messy bun. Grabbing my bag, I ran out the door, slamming it shut behind me. "Don't slam the door!" I heard my father's voice boom throughout the house. I felt my shoulders slump for a second as I hear the tone of his voice.

Not good.

"Optimistic thoughts." I sing songed, forcing myself to quickly bounce back. "Yes, sir!" I replied as I turned the corner from the kitchen to the living room, where both my parents sat. I grimaced as I noticed the particular angry expressions on both of their faces. Well, my dad at least. He was practically purple and I was afraid he was going to pop a vessel. I tried my best not to look at him, and hoped he wouldn't be doing much of the talking, whatever it was about. He had the habit of spitting when he yelled. My mother, on the hand, was as white as a ghost. Which caused me not look at her, either. I felt guilt settling in. My mother rarely got angry, but I could always tell when I disappointed her or made her sad, and it didn't sit well with my stomach. This led to my staring at my freshly trimmed toenails. Nice.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" My father snarls, causing me to flinch at his tone. I don't think he knows how scary his voice can be.

This obviously isn't from me slamming the door too hard.

Really? I don't know, they really have a thing for doors.

I try my best not to roll my eyes at the lame amount of sarcasm I put into my own reply at myself.

Happy thoughts.

"We need to talk." My father growled, his eyes narrowed. Always suspicious, and in defensive mode. Ready to pounce in an instant, as if whatever I had to say to defend myself wouldn't be true. As if I intentionally upset them.

"We know it's not true!" My mother interjected, looking at me with pleading eyes, begging for it to not be true, whatever "it" was.

Definitely not good. Already near hysterics.

"Well maybe you should tell her?" He muttered under his breath, his arms crossed and his jaw clenched.

My mother looked between my father and me with wide panicked eyes. "No, no it's fine." She squeaked, and started nervously fidgeting with the fabric of the couch.

I start humming quietly to myself, to which my father snorted. He knew that I wasn't humming to obnoxiously remind him of my presence, even though, they still had yet to tell me what they had called me out for. Instead, it was an effort to calm down my rapidly beating heart.

It's something I've always done when I was nervous or upset, even when I was little. My mother heard it, and quickly snapped her head in my direction, with an unreadable expression on her face before turning back to looking anywhere but at me.

I took a glance at the clock hanging over their head and noticed if I waited any longer I'd be way later than my usual lateness. "Um, maybe this could be wait? I'm going to be late." I suggest with whatever light heartedness I could muster in my voice with the atmosphere this tense. I smiled to mask over any nervousness or tension that could be heard in my voice as I started to walk to the door.

"Absolutely not!" My father barked, jumping up from his seat and grabbing onto my arm. "Ow, that kinda-" I was interrupted by his throwing of me to the armchair closest to the door.

He now stood in front of me, with my mother still sitting in her loveseat except she now clutched the arms of the chair, as if her life depended on it.

Things are gonna get bad, quick.

"I'm going to be late to Tayuya's!" I reminded them, trying to ease the situation with anything amount of butter I had left at my disposal.

C'mon, guys, Tayuya's always been a soft spot. Always been a nice girl. I look over to my mother, pleadingly.

"That's exactly what we needed to talk about." My mother responded, still refusing to look at me.

Bad, bad, bad.

"What about it?" I asked cooly, my heart jumping out in protest, it felt as if bile were stuck in my throat. I quickly eyed the trashcan, feeling myself become sick. It's not what I think it is, it's not what I think it is. It can't, there's no way. I searched for something, anything to reassure myself, that this isn't what I think it is. The only problem is, I know it's what I think it is.

I looked to my father for an answer, only to see his nostrils were flared like a bull's with his eyes practically burning a hole through my head.

"You already know." My father glared up at me, a knowing glint in his eye.

"N-no, I-I'm not sure that I know what you're talking about." I stuttered, feeling my palms become sweaty, as the room's tension continued to build and build. It was suffocating, I was suffocating. I could hardly breathe.

He merely rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Look," He took a deep breath, "I know we looked pretty mad, or at least I did," He chuckled, his posture relaxing, or, less threatening at least.

I let out a sigh a relief. Were they really okay with it? Of course they are, what am I thinking? They're my parents! Of course, they'd love and support me. What was I even thinki-

"—But, I know it's all just rumors, you being gay, and having a relationship, with her." He looked up at me, with a strange emotion I've never seen in his eyes before; something I'm not sure I could even describe. "You're our daughter," He says, glancing at my mother, with a small nod. "You'd never choose to be that- that," He wrinkles his nose in disgust, turning back to me. "Disgusting lifestyle. We taught you better than that." He said, looking at me with a slight smile on his face.

I didn't say anything- I couldn't say anything.

He always has moods like this maybe-

"Just to be sure, though," He frowned. "I want you to say it."

"S-say what, exactly?" Goosebumps ran up and down my arms.

I've had the happen before, I just need to wake up. Wake up, Ino, wake up!

It took all I had not to pinch myself, or to scream. Shake away bad thoughts.

He clenched his jaw, as if to hold back a snarl. "Tell me, you're not gay."

"I-"

"I want you to look at me when you say it." He said, furrowing his brows even further.

"Alright." I said in a whisper. Easy peasy, right?

"I'm not-" I start, shaking, looking straight at the ceiling.

"Eyes over here, please." My father whistled, waving his huge hands in the air.

"I-I'm" the back of my throat hurting as I desperately fought any tears threatening to surface. Of course, they were blurring my vision, anyways. I could barely see.

"I-I'm not – Look at us when we're talking to you!" My father barked. He was just a blurred figure, tall, and now standing.

"O-oh god." I sobbed, grabbing fistfuls of my hair. "I-I'm not" Tears were inevitably streaming down my face.

"Say it!" My father yelled, cupping his hands over his mouth.

"I'm trying- I'm - I'm" I hiccuped, my breath coming in big gulps. "I can't." I whimpered, choking up another sob. "I just can't."

My mother looked up at me, those emerald orbs that were pleading with me. Don't. It took everything within me not to cry out at the stabbing pain in my chest after seeing her eyes when I spoke those three words. Her eyes grew cold; freezing.. Now, they were hardly, emerald. Now, they just looked like a cold grey.

Where are the happy thoughts?

My mom, was like most other moms, I guess. Or the ones you saw in movies and books. She was always smiling, she spent most of her hours in the kitchen cooking, baking. It wasn't because she was good at it, though. She never carried a cookbook around. She was always experimenting. The kitchen always smelled like too much flour, or too little sugar. It was never dull, and only someone with an immense amount of patience and compassion could really spend their life doing that.

I remember, I was only a toddler, three, maybe five, at the most. I had reached for a pitcher of Kool-Aid to pour in my own little "grown-up" cup. I could barely hold the thing, much less pour it into a cup, and once I had tilted it, everything went red. Literally, red Kool-Aid had spilled everywhere. My favorite cup, now scattered in shards among the floor.

My mother had ran into the room as fast as she could, of course. I mean what parent wouldn't? The sound of shattering glass is enough to send any parent sprinting across the house. This story really isn't necessary, but I just remember, as soon as she came into the room, she just stared at me. The red. The glass scattered across the floor. Then she laughed. She just laughed. Honestly, had this been recent, I would have thought she was insane, seriously. But then? I couldn't help but giggle too. I mean really, giggle. After she had started laughing I thought glass breaking and staining the floors red was the funniest thing ever.

Afterwards, the mess had been cleaned up; the floors were only a little stained. Once we had finally managed to stop laughing, she taught me how how much kool-aid had to be in the pitcher for me to be allowed pour it.

The whole experience is nice and funny now that I know right from wrong, but it had really warped my sense of humor; and had gotten both me and my mom in trouble when one night my dad had waken up to me smashing glass cups on the floor laughing maniacally.

That aside, rarely had my mom really shown me anything except those eyes that were always so soft and gentle, full of warmth. She had always taken the time to be patient with me, even if I didn't deserve it. She was always there to back me up; give me candy when I was not supposed to have it. She always gave me the small victories. She was the reason I could always escape my father's arguments with a small interruption of, "Honey, aren't you supposed to be going over Tayuya's?"

Needless to say, seeing those eyes staring at me. It was foreign; I couldn't even recognize who she was anymore, it was like seeing a completely different person. I couldn't even bear to look at them. It hurt.

It was the silence that made it worse. Nothing to cancel out my quiet whimpers and choked sobs echoing throughout the room. The quiet was deceiving, and I knew it.

The same person I was yesterday. I'm standing right in front of them.

As if they could hear my thoughts they both eerily looked up at me. "Go to your room." My mother said, looking down again. Her bangs covered her eyes like a shitty anime, hiding the blizzard that replaced the once sunny day held in her eyes.

"W-what?" I sniffed.

"Go. To your room." My father gritted through his teeth.

I frowned. "N - no. I'm supposed to be going to Tayuya's, I-I can't she's waiting for me." I stuttered, trembling as I inched closer to the door.

"Listen here, you little faggot." My father growled. "Now, until we find a cure for this, this," He seemed tongue tied as he tried to come up for a word for whatever "this" is.

"Disease." My mother finished for him. Her face emotionless, but her voice cold, and bitter.

We both looked at her in shock, she seemed to have blended in with the room. Once my father recovered from his momentary shock, he continued with a small nod targeted at my mother. "You aren't going anywhere."

I tried ignoring the panic rising deep from my stomach, making the urge to throw up in that trash can a popular occurrence.

This can't be happening. God, this can't be happening.

I don't know why I was so shocked. I always knew the reality of the situation I had placed myself in. Yet, it didn't seem to stop the room spinning; the nausea. The overwhelming sense of numbness. It's like my entire body had shut down. I couldn't even bring myself to cry.

Let me off this carousel.

"Oh, stop overreacting!" My father snorted."If I had acted like this to my parents, I would've gotten my ass beat!" He added, with a roll of his eyes.

I couldn't even hear them anymore. I grabbed my keys that were hanging off the doorknob, opened the door, and took off. I fumbled for my phone in my pocket, as I sprinted to my car, thanking whatever master of the universe for having left it unlocked. I quickly put the keys in ignition, put car in reverse, and sped out the driveway whilst scrolling through my contacts for a particular redhead.

"Pick up, pick up." I muttered as I heard the rain pounding on my car.

"Hey, cupcake-"

"They know." I said as I watched my parents scream while throwing random hand gestures in the mix from the passenger window.

"Wait, what—I'll see you in a bit. Meet me at the spot." I cut her off.

A/N: So, it may or may not have been a while since I've even seen this account. I decided to edit this stuff and see where it takes me! Sorry for all of the confusion and potential false hope, Hopefully I will be able to make up for it if any of you still even check this stuff lmao. Anyways, hope you enjoyed!