Chapter 8 - Stray cat

                                    

                                          
Past
                          
"You have to leave. This is not your home anymore" my dad said, making the world stop. 

                          
I stared at my father in complete shock, as the hot tears involuntarily rolled down my cheeks. No...No he did not just say that. He-....h-he couldn't throw me out, right?? Over this- he really he- no. No no this couldn't be I-I had no savings, no time for a job and where would I even live and I-...I didn't want to lose my family! I stared at him, waiting for him to say something or maybe just storm off, but anything to show me, that he didn't mean it. That he just said it because he was angry, but no, he looked at me as if he was waiting for me to get out of here right that second. 
                          
"D-Dad p-please" I pleaded lowly with a shaky voice and there came the hit. I already thought the slap was bad, but here it was, his fist colliding with my eye. I had never ever been hit before. Sure I have gotten in fights, but more...verbally, never in my life had I been in a physical one before. I fell to the ground, my hands immediately holding my eye and my mother gasped when she saw me fall to the ground, but she didn't...she didn't help me! She didn't even make sure I wasn't badly hurt!
                          
"I told you not to call me that!" he yelled, turning away from me and taking a step back, to create some distance between us. I let out a sob, as the shock hit as hard as my father had. He hit me he...h-he wanted to hurt me! He never wanted to hurt me before, this was no house of violence, that was very important to my parents, b-but apparently, they weren't exactly that anymore. I whimpered as I stayed on the floor too weak from the fear and pain and also....I just didn't want to get up, so he could throw me out. This was my home, I-I couldn't-....no! 
                          
"Henry? What's going on?" I heard the voice of my little brother call, who stood at the end of the stairway, rubbing his eyes, since he had probably been playing video games and had to adjust them to a further distance than his computer now. My mother immediately rushed towards him as his eyes widened and he saw my red cheek, my crying face and how I helplessly sat on the floor. 
                          
"Oliver go upstairs right now!!" she yelled at him and he was startled at that, before his eyes wandered to me again. The tears streamed down my face, as I looked at my little brother and silently begged him to help me, even though his word meant nothing while my dad's would be final. But he could- maybe he-....no. I had to fight this out on my own. It just hurt so much...my cheek, the pain of the fall, the pain of fearing for my existence, for my family...
                          
But reluctantly, my brother went upstairs, probably sensing that he did not want to anger any one of them right now. When we heard the door to his room shut, my father turned around to me again. I had my head hung low, not being able to look at him. I didn't do anything wrong! I didn't betray them, I didn't steal from them or was mean or a drug addict, I just-....I just was who I really was and it wasn't even bothering them, since they should have never known so...why the fuck did it matter now so suddenly? No, it had always mattered, that was why I had to keep it a secret for so long. 
                          
"Go pack your bags. I don't care where you go, I don't care what you do with your life, just get out of mine. No son of mine is a dirty faggot" my dad said lowly and I could hear a bit of pain in his voice, but it was nothing compared to the one I felt inside. His words were like a shot to the heart. Peng. It burned, like my heart and lungs were on fire and I just needed to wake up from this nightmare. This was all just a nightmare, my worst nightmare. I would wake up in my bedroom shortly and then everything would be ok again. 
                          
I just wanted somebody to hug me. To have my mom take me in her arms and make me hot chocolate, just like when I was a little kid and even before Oliver was born. I wanted to be held and shown that everything was going to be ok. I didn't want this...I never asked for this. So why was this happening to me? Why was I getting punished? I never hurt anybody, I never wronged someone. I was good...I was decent at least, s-so why...why??