9/29/10 A sequel that ISN'T like four sentences? lolwhut?
Roxas sat with his head low. A few tears trekked down his dirty face and over his bloodied lip. Third fight this week. First time his mom had been home all week.
"But why sweetie!" A warm wash cloth in her hand, gently patting at the splotches of dirt on his cheeks.
He answered with silence. Curled more into himself. She can't know. She can't know. She can't know. Steady as a beating drum.
"Roxas, sweetie." She held his face in her hands. "Why"
He slammed his eyes shut and opened his mouth. Inhaled. She's my mom. She needs to know. She needs to- "BECAUSE I'M GAY!" The washcloth stopped. His eyes fixed on his clasped hands in his lap. Knuckles white, blood pooling under his fingers.
His mom just gawked, mouth open, eyes wide, washcloth still in her hand. Neither of them made any noise. Roxas slowed his breathing, quieted it. His mom- he couldn't even tell if she was even breathing. The clock ticked in the background. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Years. A Decade? He couldn't tell. How long had it been?
He could see her arm lower, out of the corner of his eye. "Roxas. Look at me." He slammed his eyes shut again, as she lifted his head. "Look at me Roxas." Her voice was loosing it's quiet. This was when he should have gone on his own way, and given her time to forget this. Let it blow over. But he was frozen. "You're on of them." She groped for the cross necklace around her neck. THIS was his last chance. "You're a fag." Her voice shook. The hand that held the washcloth was white. "You're a fucking fag!" She took a step back, pulled her hand away. "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE! YOU FUCKING FAG!" The washcloth was in his lap, cold and clammy. The shadow that was his mom was gone.