Marked

Eleven

A few weeks had passed since we had kissed for the first time. And it had been amazing. We hung out a ton, even more than we did before. And we face timed every single night. I was so happy, it felt so right to hang out like this with him. But there was one small problem, we still hadn't started to call ourselves anything. We may just call ourselves friends, and that might be what we still tell people if they still happen to ask, but we definitely weren't just friends.

Friends didn't exactly have makeout sessions in my room.

Because that was exactly what we were doing right before everything went to hell.

I had a hand on the back of his neck, and he had a hand on my back, the other one resting next to be on the bed.

That was the last happy moment that I can remember.

Because the next thing that I heard was the door opening, and then I heard a very familiar voice.

"What the hell are you doing?" The lovely voice of my mother.

Shit.

I had pulled away the second that I heard her voice, and I knew that my face was about as red as it could be. I knew that I was in trouble. So much trouble.

I could barely even process my thoughts. The only thoughts that were running through my head were that my mom was never going to love me again and that I was probably going to be kicked out of my own house. And Parker. What was she going to do or say to Parker?

"You, get out," She said, and while her voice did sound terrified, it just sounded so much more terrifying. I expected yelling, so much yelling. And when my mom was really mad, she would get calm. I had only ever seen it happen a few times, and none of them have ever been good.

I watched as Parker left my room, going to the front door. His face was pale, and I could tell how scared he was. He turned back to me and mouthed a simple 'Sorry'

He left, and before he was even gone, my mom turned to me and glared.

"What the hell were you just doing?" She screamed, and the glare that I stood under made me want to shrink down to the size of a speck of dust.

"I... I-" I said, but I had no idea what I was supposed to tell her. The truth? That I liked guys? Or was I supposed to lie? Saying that I was just experimenting or something.

But that wasn't the truth. I had lied to her about so many things in the past, so many that I couldn't even try to remember all of them, or what they had been about. This just felt so huge. I knew I wouldn't be able to hide it for forever, and that it would come out eventually, even if it was years from now. She would find out sooner than later.

"What? Kissing a guy even though you have a soulmate out there! That is disgusting. I can't believe my own... , my own son. Would even do... that. Kiss another guy. You're going to go to hell for this," She said.

Tears were welling up in my eyes as I looked up at her. She had said the word son like she was ashamed like she already didn't think of me as her own child. Like I was just some regular old person that she had never met in her life.

"He is my soulmate, Mom," I said. She might not think of me as her son anymore, but I felt like I needed to say that. Because she was still my mom.

She didn't say anything. The look she was giving me was a look of pure disgust and no other emotion in her eyes. "No son of mine is gay," She said.

I was crying. "Mom, mom please," I said. I needed my mom. I couldn't just have her not care about me anymore. "Please,"

"It's unnatural! Why can't you be like Elliot? He's doing fine, has an amazing girlfriend, but you're some sort of... monster!" She yelled at me. I knew everyone in the house could hear her as she screamed at me, breaking away a piece of me with every word that felt like a slap to the face.

"I didn't choose!" I said, raising my voice, though it still didn't get even close to her volume.

"You could've ignored it! You could've saved me the embarrassment of my own child being gay! You didn't have to be in your room making out with a boy for God's sake!"

Why couldn't she just accept it? Maybe I should've lied. "Mom, I never wanted this to happen either. But he makes me so happy, please try to be happy for me," I said. You could hear the strain in my voice from trying to be as composed as I could.

"How am I supposed to be happy for you? I don't give a shit if you're happy. You can't be happy with another guy. You can't even have kids, and what about the girl that' probably your soulmate? They don't make same-gender soulmates, you idiot. What about her?" She asked me, and I saw my dad over her shoulder.

"Honey..." He said, walking up behind her. "The kid's happy," He said, and I couldn't even bring myself to look at my mom.

"I don't care!" She yelled. "You better not be telling me you're okay with this. What about Sammy? He can't be exposed to this!"

"Let him love who he loves for crying out loud! He's your kid!" My dad yelled right back at her.

There had been a few times that they had argued like this, and this time, it was all my fault. Neither of them would be yelling if it weren't for me.

"He's not my fucking kid, James!" She yelled, and everything fell silent in the room.

He's not my fucking kid.

I wasn't her kid.

My mom didn't think of me as her kid.

The words felt like a kick to my stomach as I felt the tears come down my face even faster. The person who was supposed to love me more than anything didn't even care. She didn't care if I was happy.

"Olivia, let's talk about this. Don't be so harsh," My dad said, and his voice lowered. He was really trying.

"No!" She yelled, and when I looked up, I saw her jerking her arm away from him as if she was disgusted that he could even try. "How are you okay with this?"

"Because I love my kid! Obviously you don't, or you wouldn't be telling him that he's not your kid!" He said, and his voice got a little louder as the two argued, with me standing right there.

I wasn't even crying anymore. I was just staring blankly at them, not saying a word or even moving a muscle.

"How am I supposed to love a kid who is fucking up his entire life? The life that he could have easily had?" She asked him.

"Do you ever step out of your fucking head and think maybe this is the life that he wants?" My dad asked her,

She turned towards me. "Get out of my fucking house and never get back here."

A backpack later, my phone in hand, and tears streaming down my face as I even tried to process what was happening, I was gone, and I knew where I was going with one text message to the boy who had started it all.

'Meet me at the lake'