I look at my phone, should I call her? Yakov gave me my mother's phone number before I left his hotel. He insisted that I called her instead, and now here I am contemplating if I should call or not. Most people would call their parents in a heartbeat, my family isn't like your typical family. My father and older brother are homophobic, I haven't spoken to my sister, and my mom is the only one who loves me. She supported me since I was born, it's only right if I call her and apologize. I pick up my phone with shaky hands, what if it's late in Russia. I dial the number making mistakes a few times, once it's in I take deep breaths. I hit the call button is rings two times before it picks up.

"Hello," her voice is still the same. It's all so overwhelming. Her voice is still the same from the incident, memories of it floods my head.

I open the door, humming at the warmth in the house. It's snowing, again. I place my bag holding my skates on the floor next to the door. I start taking the neat braids in my hair, so my father won't see.

"Victor Nikiforov, come to the living room now." I hear my father's booming voice and suddenly fear shoots up my spine. I take careful steps to living room. I didn't do anything, so hopefully, it's not serious. I step into the living room, my mom sits on the chair. Her face pale and mascara down her cheeks, before I could ask anything my father interrupts.

"Victor, what have you've been doing after practice for the past few weeks." I run scenarios through my head, that's when the horrifying realization comes to my mind. Spencer, the boy I was with. I look at my dad, his eyes are filled with rage and disgust. It's all towards me.

"Uh, I'm...I mean I've been, trying to-"

"Don't lie to me, boy!" My father bellows. Tears sting in my eyes and I look at my hands. I feel a sharp tug on my hair and I let out a scream. Tears are running down my face now.

"If I can even call you that! You act like a girl 24/7. Doing girly sports, wearing your hair long, but I've had it. I did not raise a fucking faggot in this household. You're a disappointment to me and your mother," he yells.

"I'm not a faggot," I scream back. I'm thrown onto the floor and then there's a sharp pain in my back. He kicked me.

"Then what were you doing with that boy? I saw you kiss him. That's what fags do, I raised you better than this."

I glare at him and clench my fist. "You never raised me. You never supported any of my decisions!" I take a deep breath, "you don't even love me, do you?" The hurt and betrayal in his eyes are there until more rage returns. He grabs my hair again and the scissors sitting on the table. No, please don't. Before I could beg him not to do anything, the damage was already done.

"I don't love faggots! You are nothing but a burden to this family. Do you hear me?! A burden. Can't do anything non-feminine, huh? Dress like a girl, wear your hair like a girl and kiss guys like a girl. Nothing but a useless bitch. You are never gonna make a difference, a piece of shit." Insult after insult, he cuts my hair. He finally lets go of my hair and I start sobbing on the cold floor. I hear the scissors drop next to me. I look through my tears vision, my beautiful hair is everywhere. I stagger off the floor and stare at my father, he's breathing heavily and glaring at me. There is no sympathy in his cold blue eyes. I look towards my mom, there are fresh tears running down her face. My heartbreaks, why didn't she help me? She looks at me and stands to touch me, I jerk away from her.

"Victor," she whispers. I glare at her.

"No, don't touch me. I hate you!"

I look towards my father. "I hope you burn in hell," I spit. "I will make a difference, you'll see." I run to the front door and grab the bag holding my skates. Opening the door, I leave without looking back.

"Mom?" My voice cracks.

She is silent for a few moments. "Victor?"

"Yeah, mom, it's me," I say. I hear here sobs through the phone and I immediately feel guilty.

"I thought you were never gonna call me again, t-that you hated me."

"I don't hate you, mom. I hate my father. It's not your fault. None of it."

She sighs, sniffling a bit. "It is my fault. I should've protected you, been a better mother to you."

"No, it's okay mom. Yakov was the best parent, he guided me the right way." I assure her.

"Good. That's great, Victor. I've seen you all over the news and things, how is your life going?"

I smile. "I'm happy. I've found the one for me. He's my everything. His name is Yuuri Katsuki, but we got married two years ago. Now he's a Nikiforov."

"Oh, honey. That's wonderful. It's good that your happy, you deserve all the happiness in the world."

"We're expecting twins," I add. It's silent and I feel uneasy, maybe I shouldn't have said that.

I hear my mother squeal on the other line, "Victor! I'm so proud of you, my son. They're gonna be beautiful just like you and you will make a wonderful parent."

"I hope so," I mutter. I bite my lip, "but mom something terrible happened."

"What is it, my dear?"

"He was kidnapped a few days ago, and I haven't found any signs of him. It's really stressful and I've had the worst nightmare. Can I...talk to you."

"Yes, honey. I'm listening, whatever you have to say." That's when I break down. I start crying over the phone as I tell her what happened to Yuuri. It feels really good, the stress is just falling off my shoulders.

"I'm sorry, m-mom. I shouldn't have l-left you with d-dad." I hiccup.

"Shush, it's alright. I've got to go now, sweetheart. Please call me if you need anything. I love you, Vitya."

"I love you too, mommy."

"There's my boy," she whispers before hanging up. She doesn't hate me, it was all just my father. One day, I will see her in person with Yuuri. For now, I must get back to work with the investigator.