It's not as hard as one thinks to leave your life behind, to try and seek out acceptance. It's really quite easy, especially if you manage to scrape together enough money.

It's a little more difficult to leave if you're only 19, with just a high school diploma, but find the right jobs and it's possible. Difficult but possible.

I let out a little sigh as I stare out the window into the dark streets of Chicago. It looks so peaceful outside, though the sensation is marred by the sound of the bus's engine. I wish I could embrace that peace, let it wash over me, perhaps feel it but for a little while. But I know that's just a dream. The second I step off this bus, cold reality will slam into me, knocking the wind – what's left of it – right out of me. The streets, especially these streets, are not safe at 3am. There is no peace out there, mirroring my own life.

I glance around the bus. It's the last bus of the night, but it's still practically empty. A homeless man is sitting up front trying to catch some sleep, to escape the cold. Across the aisle from me is someone who looks to be in a similar situation to me.

It's not that my situation is all that bad. It's two days to Christmas and I've got food at home this year, an excellent improvement from my first year alone. I'm going down the final stretch of my last year to receive my journalism major. I work at a bar just off campus as a bartender. It's good money, though the hours are hell. Top it off with a job at a library on Saturday and Sunday mornings as a receptionist, and I make enough, though I'm forced to live a 25 minute bus ride away to keep the rent low. It's long work hours, not much time to study, but it's not like I have anything else to do, so why worry about it.

The man across from me is roughly my age, looks tired, and by the smell of him is either very drunk or at the very least came from a bar. He senses me looking at him and turns, giving me a weak smile. I don't think he's drunk, I don't get that sense. His eyes though, gaze at me sadly. I recognize the look well. I wear it every time I look in a mirror. I wonder if the man has a similar past as me.

I turn away, unable to meet his eyes anymore. There are a few drunks at the back of the bus, but I ignore them, instead turning to the window once more.

I loathe these bus rides – and I love them – with all that I am. For it's during these rides that I remember her. My one and only.

"Mom, Mike, Brooke, I have an announcement to make." We were sitting around the dinner table, and had been eating for a few minutes now, though I hadn't touched my food, merely pushed it around with my fork.

I couldn't believe I was about to do this. Graduation had only been a week ago, and now I had finally worked up the courage to say it. They all looked at me expectantly.

I took a deep breathe. "I'm… I'm gay."

There was silence for a moment, and I turned to look at each of them in turn. My Mom's eyes had bugged out of her head and she looked like she was about to stroke, if not already stroking. Brooke simply had a raised eyebrow and a little smile on her face, while Mike hadn't moved, his fork half way to his mouth. Then it fell from his hand and clattered to the plate, all hell breaking loose.

"WHAT!" My mom screamed, shocking me. "No… no-no-no. Don't joke about this Sam. It's not funny."

Simultaneously, Brooke had jumped up. "Oh I knew it McPherson! I just knew it. So, who's the girl," she asked, eyebrows wagging and smiling brightly.

Mike had simply risen and walked two steps away.

I turned to my mom. "Calm down Mom. It's not a joke. I'm gay."

"No daughter of mine is gay. Don't be ridiculous Sam."

"Jane, be reas-" Brooke tried to cut in to my defense to my very great shock. I was expecting the bad reaction out of her, not my mom.

"Reasonable? I am reasonable. And stay they hell out of this Brooke."

I instantly rose. "Don't talk to her like that. This is her business to!"

My mom turned to me again, fury riding in her eyes. "Shut up. You're not gay, so there's nothing to discuss."

"What the hell is wrong with you mom. You taught me to be tolerant. You taught me that you would love me unconditionally, that it was my life," I retorted, now angry.

Mike turned to join in. "We are tolerant. Whatever other people want to do is fine."

"As long as it's not in our family, huh Dad? How can you be so hypocritical? I'm proud of you Sam. Good for you for standing up for yourself." I gave my sister a weak smile. This wasn't going at all how I'd hoped, but I was thankful as hell for her support.

My mom marched right up to me and grabbed my by the arm, pulling me away. "Ow, stop," I called out, her fingernails biting into my arm. But she did stop, and turned to me, her voice low and dangerous.

"Now you listen to me Samantha McPherson. You are not gay. Maybe you were curious, and this may be a phase. That's ok. But it's over now. You're straight."

I shrugged out of her grasp. Who the hell was this woman? She sure as hell was not my mom.

"Don't ever touch me again Jane," I stressed her name. "If this is how you're going to act, then maybe I should move out."

"No, you won't be moving out," Mike said from behind me. "We can fix you. It's ok."

"You can fix her? What the hell, did someone drop me into an alternate dimension, into some sort of a twisted angst fiction? You're both being ridiculous! I've read about people reacting badly to things similar to this in books before, but I always assumed it was an exaggeration!" Brooke was once again jumping to my defense, but they just ignored her.

My Mom walked over to Mike, and then turned to me. "Your father would be ashamed of you, of himself. He would never be able to live this down Sam. You're bringing shame to him, me and yourself."

Tears burst to my eyes, and I just couldn't take it anymore. My rage took control.

"You know SHIT all about my dad then Jane. Nothing will change me from being Gay, from loving Brooke, from…" I stopped as I realized what I had said. What I had blurted out.

Oh no.

"You what?" Brooke whispered quietly.

"What…" Mike and Jane said simultaneously.

I immediately started to cry more and turned to Brooke. "I'm so sorry," I muttered out.

She just stared at me, eyes wide. "You mean…"

"Yes," I whispered.

Mike roared and charged at me. "YOU BITCH!" Before I could react his hand had connected with my cheek in a backhanded slap. I fell to the ground, head ringing.

I heard yelling, but was too dazed to focus. I got up slowly; saw that Brooke, my angel, was standing over me, protecting me.

"Leave," she commanded. And Mike, who had gone white and was staring at his hands in shock, turned to me.

"Sam… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Whatever else may be wrong with you, I never should have hit you."

"Leave," Brooke repeated. "Apologize later. You too Jane." Jane was white as well, possible astounded at Mike's reaction.

They both left slowly, apparently contrite over their actions, content to take a breather. Then Brooke turned to me, and my heart warmed. She was so beautiful, she would understand. She would still love me, even if it wasn't how I wanted.

"Sam," she started slowly.

"Brooke," I reply. "It's ok that you don't love me." I speak so quietly I'm not sure she could hear me, but I think she did.

She lowers her head. "I'm perfectly comfortable with you being gay. I could be around you, I could have still been your best friend…"

"But," I say, my voice cracking. I know what's coming.

"I can't…" she stops and I realize she's crying too. "I can't be with you, in any sense. I can't even be your friend. I can't have you in my life. We… I… we can't…" she trails off before turning away. "I'm sorry Sam."

She walks away, leaving me to my misery. To the knowledge that I am now an orphan, with a father who is dead and a mother whom is dead to me. That I have no one who loves me.

I know what I have to do. It's the last time I'll ever see the love of my life again.

My mom had come into my room later that night. She had basically told me to change or hit the road. I was gone in the morning.

My biggest regret with it was never saying bye to Brooke. It was selfish of me, I know. Even if Brooke didn't love me how I love her, even if she didn't want me in her life, she still had a right to say goodbye. But I wouldn't have been able to stand it. I wasn't strong enough to see her again, to say goodbye.

I don't even hate Mike or my Mom. How could I? They just didn't know how else to be, some people just weren't meant to be understanding. Or so I told myself over and over.

A week later I had checked my account, and found a thousand dollars had been deposited by Mike, with a message expressing his sorrow at having hit me, and that he hoped I'd get help for my 'problem'. It was typical McQueen arrogance, but it was all he knew. I knew he still didn't accept me for me, nor did Jane (for she is no longer my mother), but they still had a line at least, and they knew they had crossed it.

The bus stops and I rise, giving a little wave to the man sitting next to me before stepping off the bus and towards my one bedroom flat. What a miserable dump. I think it every time I approach the building, but once I'm inside, I always feel comfortable. In my room at least, I'm accepted, even if it's by nothing more than me, my laptop and my bed.

I type in the code for the bottom doors of the apartment building and make my way to the stairs, trudging up the 3 flights to my own flat. As I step out of the stairwell, I see a figure is huddled against my door, fast asleep. It doesn't particularly shock me. At least once a month I come home to find a drunken homeless person sleeping on my door. I usually sneak into my flat, find a snack and leave it on them before locking my door.

As I get closer I realize that it's no homeless man, but instead is a fairly well dressed woman. Then my eyes shoot wide and I let out a squeak.

Brooke stirs at my noise and rolls over to me. Oh no.

"Sam," she rasps out and rises slowly. "You're a hard girl to track down." I don't know what to say, so instead I look down. Tears are already blurring my eyes. I sense her step towards me. "Don't cry," she soothes, sensing my distress.

"What are you doing here?" I let my mouth run away.

"Looking for you silly."

I look up to her; see that she is smiling lightly. "I left because you asked me to Brooke. I don't understand."

Her smile fades and she puts her hands on my shoulders. "I made a mistake Sam. I was scared and said some stupid things. I never wanted you to leave. I've come to apologize."

But I'm not listening to her. "You shouldn't be here. It's Christmas Eve tomorrow. Today now even. You should be home with Mike and Jane."

"That's not home Sammy, because you're not there."

My defenses are crumbling, I can feel them falling around me. Suddenly I feel claustrophobic and push back from her. "You and Jane were the only people I truly loved. You were there only ones I needed to be loved from. But you rejected me Brooke. I'm broken. So just leave, don't take any more from me, I have nothing left to give."

I brush past her to my door, fumbling with the key. "Don't you understand Sam? I want you back in my life." I don't answer as I finally get the key into the slot. "I lied before. About why I'm not at home." I slam open the door and try to shut it behind me, but Brooke is there, holding the door open. "I'm not at home because I came out to them yesterday."

I don't fully register what she is saying because I push her hard and then close the door, locking it before what she said fully hits home. "What," I say weakly, but apparently loudly enough she can hear me through the door.

"That's right Sam. I'm gay. And I'm in love with you. I have always been."

I slowly unlock the door and open it. I need to see her when she says it, to be touching her. To make sure I'm not hallucinating.

I reach out to her cheek, staring deep into her eyes. "What did you just say?" I ask, my voice thick with wonderment.

And suddenly she's beaming. "I said I love you Samantha McPherson, I always have even if I was too scared to admit it, and…" I hear roaring in my ears at her pronouncement and am unable to hear whatever she continues on to say. Not that it matters, as I push in and capture her lips with my own, ending whatever she was going to say.

We break apart what seems like minutes later, desperate for air. "I love you too," is all I say breathlessly. "Don't ever hurt me again," I continue, as I drag her inside, shutting the door behind me.

"Never," she replies. And I've finally found true acceptance.