Date: Wed, 23 Mar 2011 23:15:57 -0500
From: Aaron Saxon <a.saxon1122@gmail.com>
Subject: Everybody Hates Me - Chapter 1; gay male/high school

Please do not read the following story if you are under the age of 18 or if
it is illegal for you to so, based on where you live.

As the author, I retain all copyrights to this story. Please do not publish
or post this story anywhere without my consent.

Comments and suggestions can be submitted to a.saxon1122@gmail.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

			    Everybody Hates Me

My name is Kevin James Elliot and this is the story of how my world fell
apart and the fight to get it back.

It started about a year ago when I was 15. That is when I started to
realize that I was different from other boys, including my twin brother
John Christian Elliot. He was about 12 minutes older than me. My brother
and I have brown hair except John has our mother's green eyes and I have my
dad's chocolate brown eyes. We have slim builds, kind of like a swimmers
body, but we play basketball. I am junior varsity and he plays on the
varsity team.  He had started to date girls and I didn't. One night when I
was alone in our room, I admitted to myself I was gay. Suddenly, I got
horribly scared. What was going to happen to me? I would soon find out.

For the past several months, John had been trying to get me to go out with
one of his girlfriends friends, but I told him I wasn't interested.  The
final straw hit one Friday night and I screamed back at him to stop trying
to get me to go out with Becky. I don't like her and I don't feel much like
going out with her! "Jeez, Kevin, what's wrong with you?" John asked. "I
just thought it could be fun is all, and besides Becky has a huge crush on
you?" I just glared at him and went back to reading.

As I sat with my head against the headboard, I began to wonder if John
suspected anything. It would be several more weeks before he found out
about me and it exploded in my face.

After our argument that night and all weekend I barely said two words to
him. I was withdrawing from him and everyone. Even when my best friend,
Carter called me to hang out both Saturday and Sunday, I declined. I told
him I didn't feel well and I had homework to do. It was all a lie, but I
couldn't face him or anyone for that matter.

Monday morning came and I did more of the same, I grabbed a bagel after
getting dressed and said a quick "bye" to my parents as I ran out the front
door. Cater tried to catch up to me as I walked down the street, I
pretended that I didn't hear him and kept on walking. I wanted to be left
alone. I needed to sort things out for myself before I could begin to try
to explain it to anyone.  I avoided everyone, even the other guys on the
team all day.

At lunch, I found an empty table and sat down. A couple of the guys on the
team tried to sit down and I glared up at them. They got up and went to sit
at their usual table. Carter tried to do the same, but he left
also. "What's up with Kevin?" Shawn looked over at me and asked Carter. "I
don't know, he's been avoiding me." Carter said. The conversation finally
returned to the first game that was coming up the following Saturday.

John's girlfriend looked my way and smiled then turned back and asked. "Why
is Kevin sitting by himself?" "I don't know," John said. "We've barely
spoken since the argument we had Friday night about going out on a double
date." Vanessa kissed John on the cheek and said, "talk to him." "I've
tried, but he keeps glaring at me and ignoring me."

On my way to my last period of the day, I got shoved into the wall by a
football player, Tyler Clinton and he called out "fag" as he walked by
me. My stomach turned to knots after he said that and tears started to well
in my eyes, but I fended them off. I decided to skip my history class and
walked to Greenfield Park, near our home. I always went there when I needed
to think. All I could think as I sat there on one of the wooden tables is
how it was starting and I was powerless to stop it.

When I finally decided to go home, I walked in to hear my parents arguing,
again, about what I didn't care. They looked my way for a moment, then went
back to verbally bashing each other. They had been doing that a lot lately
and it was getting more frequent.  I wanted to avoid John, so I went to the
guest room and laid down on the bed. Before I knew it, I was asleep.

I woke up about 6:00 am Thursday morning. Everyone was still asleep, so I
slipped into the shower, got dressed, grabbed a bagel and left out the
front door quietly. I went back to the park and sat watching the sun
rise. I tried to think what I was going to do. I couldn't think of anything
as I put my head in my hands and began to cry. Next thing I knew, Carter
jogged by the park and noticed I was sitting there. He jogged on over to me
and touched my shoulder. "You ok, Kevin?" He asked. "Please just go away, I
said, you don't want a friend like me." What are you talking about? He
questioned. I just can't talk about it, ok? I'd rather our friendship end,
then fess up and tell him the truth. Kevin...he started to trail off. We've
been friends since we were little, please talk to me? I've changed, I cried
out. I'm not like you, I'm different, ok? What are you... he never got the
rest of the sentence out as I got up and ran away.

I did the same routine as yesterday, I avoided everyone, sat alone at lunch
and again at the end of the day was shoved into the wall again. Tyler again
yelled out "fag" as he walked by laughing to himself. How did he know? I
asked myself. I thought I was doing a pretty good job of hiding it.

I skipped basketball practice again, but somehow word got back to John
about what had happened. Tyler told him, since they were both varsity jocks
that I was a fag. John at first didn't believe him, but he pointed to the
fact I refused to go out with Becky. John defended me for a moment when
Tyler said think about it...

I was home when John got back from practice. He came up to the guest room
door I'd been sleeping in the past few days, and banged on the door. When I
didn't answer right away, he turned the knob and entered. He started in
right away. "Is it true?" he asked with a pissed off look on his
face. "What are you talking about?" I asked dejectedly. "Are you a fag?' I
stared blankly at him, my face turning red from embarrassment. "Its true!"
He screamed at me. "Jesus Christ, Kevin! I can't believe this!" My father
walked passed the room and said, "What did you say John?" "Kevin's a fag,
dad." "Jesus Christ." My father said. I knew they were both disgusted with
me. I tore past both of them and ran out of the house. Now it would get out
for sure.

A moment later, when my father regained his composure, he hit John and said
to not use that language in his house. John tried to hit my father back,
but he threw him up against the wall and stormed out. John ran and told my
mother who was so disgusted by the news, she packed an overnight bag and
left. "I can't deal with this too. My son is a filthy faggot."  Both my
brother and father went to their rooms and sat there. After a couple of
hours, my father started to worry when I hadn't come home. I did eventually
go home and went right to my room.  It was out in the open now and I was
going to be blamed for the aftermath.

John made sure the next couple of days at school for me were hell. It was
'fag' this or `fag' that out of his mouth. I told coach after that I
wouldn't be playing anymore. He tried to get me to talk to him as I did in
years passed, but I just got up with tears in my eyes and left.

Vanessa and Becky came up to John after school and asked if it were true?
John told them that it was. They seemed as disgusted by it as he did. "What
are you going to do?" Vanessa asked him. "I don't know yet." John said
looking passed her.

My dad was still not speaking to me when I got home. I wondered if he
blamed me like I'm sure John did for mom leaving. I just walked passed him
and went to my room. I laid there crying. This is not how I wanted it to
come out, I thought to myself.

The next 3-4 days was more of the same. Two things had been added, I had
been jumped and beaten up a couple of times at school. I also had `fag'
spray painted on my locker

Still no comfort came from my father when I got home. I got some ice for
the bruises on my face and went to my room and cried. A few minutes later,
there was a knock on my door. "Can I come in son?" my dad asked
solemnly. "Please go away." I cried out. Of course he ignored me and
entered anyway. He put his hand on my shoulder, I pulled away from his
touch. "Please don't pull away from me son." "Why shouldn't I? You have a
fag for a son and you hate me!"  "I'm sorry son, I don't hate you, its just
been a difficult thing for me to accept."  "I know you blame me for mom
leaving." "No, I don't Kevin. We had a lot of problems way before this came
out."

My dad tried to get me to look at him, but I refused to turn towards
him. After a few more moments, he got up and left. I knew what I had to
do...run away.

When I was reasonably sure that neither my dad or John was awake, I got up
and quickly jotted a note for my dad apologizing to him for what I had
done. I got dressed, threw some clothes in my back pack and crept
downstairs. My dad was asleep on the sofa, so I decided to slip out the
porch door. I slid it open slowly and crept out into the dark. I didn't
know where I was going to go, but somehow after what I think was a couple
of hours, I ended up at the bus station.

I sat down on one of the benches and put my head in my hands. I started
sobbing uncontrollably. After about a half hour, a worker came by and asked
if I was alright. I said, "Yea, sure, fantastic." He asked where I was
headed. I told him I didn't know. I reached into my pockets and pulled out
$35. How far can I get on this? I asked, showing him the wad in my
hand. "Not very far, I'm afraid. I think it's enough to get you to
Houston." I thought for a minute, then it came to me, Aunt Helen and Uncle
Larry live in Houston. "Perfect." I said. "Can I buy a ticket?"  He looked
at me and said I needed to be 18 to buy a ticket. "Hey, mister", I said,
"you'd be really helping me out if you'd sell me a ticket." Normally, I
wouldn't son, but I've been where you are once, so ok. But don't tell
anyone I did this, it could mean my job. "I won't."

He sold me the ticket. It was 2:30 in the morning and the bus left at
6:00. I decided to try to get some sleep. About 10 to 6:00, that same man
came by and woke me up. I got up, went to the bathroom and was back in time
to board the bus. 10 minutes later the bus pulled out and I was on my way.

About an hour later, my father and brother were waking up. John walked past
my door and spat at it. At about a quarter past 7:00, my father knocked on
my door and when I didn't answer, he entered. He saw my bed was made and
saw the note I left that read, "I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused."
His eyes began to water as he clasped the note to his chest. When our
father didn't come downstairs, he went up to get him. He saw the door was
open and entered. "Dad, what's wrong?" he asked. "Kevin's run away!" he
cried out. "What?!" he ran over to him and put his hand on his
shoulder. "Dad, I'm sorry." He jerked away from John. "This is your fault,
John!"  He stared blankly at our father stunned at what he was
hearing. "Get away from me right now and go to school John!" my dad
screamed.

My father immediately called his boss and said he would need the day. After
explaining to him what had happened, he excused him from work. He would
spend the next few hours looking for me, until he thought he ran out of
options. Suddenly it came to him, check the bus station.

When John got to school, he met up with Vanessa, Becky and Tyler. He told
them that his faggot brother ran away from home and that his dad blamed him
for it. Little did he know, he would regret treating me like he had.

My dad got to the bus station about 11:30 and went right to the teller. He
asked if he could help him. Dad asked if he had seen a boy who looked like
this? Pulling out a picture of me. The teller hadn't seen me, so he asked a
couple others. The one who had helped me was just getting ready to leave
and told him, after a slight confrontation that he saw I was headed to
Houston.  He thanked him and left.

About the same time my dad left the bus station, I arrived in Houston. I
exited the bus and went for a pay phone. I dialed Aunt Helen. She answered
the phone with her usual southern drawl and seemed happy to hear from me. I
told her I was in town and asked if she could come pick me up.  I couldn't
see, but I knew she was questioning why I was there. She said she'd be by
in about 20 minutes.

We arrived at Aunt Helen's place about 12:30. We hadn't spoke much on the
ride up, but I knew I'd have to explain why I was there sooner or
later. When we pulled up, Uncle Larry was working in the garage. I ran up
to him and threw my arms around him and we embraced. I really did love my
aunt and uncle. They ushered me inside and got me settled in the room I had
spent so much time in when I was younger.

We spent the afternoon talking and laughing, thankfully neither of them had
asked why I was there. Just as we were about to eat dinner, the phone
rang. Aunt Helen looked at the caller id, she then looked over at me and
mouthed, "it's your father." My uncle told her to answer it. "Helen, he
screamed into the receiver, is my son there with you?" I instantly jumped
and started to feel sick to my stomach. There was a long pause. "Don't lie
to me Helen!" She put her hand over the receiver and said, "I have to tell
him you are here." I tried to mutter `no', but it was no use.  "Yes,
Patrick, Kevin is here with us." "I'll be there in a half hour."

After she hung up the phone, I shouted, "Oh, shit!" "Language, young man."
Aunt Helen said.  I have to leave, I'm sorry. As I began to run upstairs,
my uncle stopped me and said, "you can't avoid him forever." Tears started
to form in my eyes and I fell into my uncles loving arms. He held me until
we heard a car pull up.  My father turned off the car, pushed the door open
and slammed it shut. He ran up to the front door and frantically rang the
bell. Aunt Helen left the dining room and went to answer the door.  He
pushed his way passed her and asked where I was. I emerged from the dining
room and he looked at me with a look of despair on his face. "That was a
very stupid and hurtful thing you did running away." There were tears
forming in his eyes and mine.

I couldn't deal with all of this right now, I told myself, so I ran from
the living room and out the front door. "I'm sorry daddy." I hadn't called
him daddy since I was 8 years old. Before I could stop myself, I had run
out into the road and a car swerved to miss me, but I was hit and went
flying into the air. My father and aunt and uncle looked on in horror.

I was unconscious instantly as I slammed and hit the ground. I barely
remember it now. The three of them ran out into the road and my father
grabbed onto me and held me rocking me gently.

The ambulance arrived about 20 minutes and after administering drugs and
using paddles to jump start my heart after I'd flat lined twice, the
paramedics finally got me stabilized.  I was rushed into the emergency
room, given more drugs and had iv bags hung.

An hour later, the doctor came out and said that I was stable, but in a
coma. He didn't know long I'd be in it. The three of them embraced and
wept.

My dad called my mother who again said she couldn't deal with this and
cursed her faggot son again. He called John, who at first didn't seem
interested since I'd chased mom away, or so he believed. But after a little
coaxing, he agreed to drive down tomorrow.

John didn't clue any of his friends or anyone else in on what had
happened. He just drove and suddenly worry and dread consumed him. Tears
formed in his eyes as he was trying to concentrate. He had to pull over on
the side of the road and get himself composed again.

20 minutes later, he pulled back on the road and just drove and drove,
fighting back the tears he was feeling about how he'd been treating me. At
7:34 he entered the hospital and demanded to know where I was at. The nurse
at the station said, "room 1041." John ran to the elevator and pushed the
button for the tenth floor. It stopped at several floors before finally
coming to rest at the tenth floor. John got off the elevator and ran down
the hall passed the nurses station. When he got to room 1041, he pushed the
door open saw the three of them sitting there holding a silent vigil over
my bed and as he saw me laying there, he broke down again. Our father
jumped up and embraced him. "Son, I'm sorry for what I said, I was just
upset that Kevin had run away." "It doesn't matter now, dad." He said.

Our dad called his boss and told him that he was in Houston and that I had
been hit by a car. He broke down into tears as he was telling his boss he'd
need more time off. His boss told him to take all the time he needed and he
would be paid for all of it. Dad worked for an insurance company and they
treated him very well.

I wish I could say that there was a quick happy ending to this, but no
there wasn't.

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. After 18 months, the
doctor's said that there was very little possibility of any change in my
condition. Dad didn't want to accept it and by this point John had been
kicking himself so hard he'd even broken up with Vanessa. Everyone at
school did eventually know, but I don't think most of them cared.  Carter
had been down to see me several times, but even now he was accepting the
possibility that I'd never wake up.

Just as all hope was lost, the monitors began to bleep and my father and
brother noticed movement near my eyes. I slowly blinked my eyes open, my
eyes having trouble adjusting to the light. I tried to speak something once
my eyes adjusted to the bright fluorescent lighting. My father put his hand
on my arm and told me not to speak. He looked at John and told him to run
and get the doctor. The doctor entered, his eyes wide with amazement that I
was awake.

Over the next several days, it was explained to me what had happened and
apologies were handed out from both my father and my brother. I was also
told that our mother had not been to see me and that she and dad had gotten
a divorce. Tears welled up in my eyes, and my father leaned in over and
wiped them away.

Dad's employer was handling all of the expenses of my hospital stay. In
total, it was about $110,000.

That didn't even include all the rehabilitation that would follow.