Alone in the Night - 1. Alone 1

I thought my life was going so good and I guess it was. A loving mother and father, adoring grandparents back in Scotland, and a lot of friends. Living across the sound from Seattle, Washington only added to the joy I felt. Then, like always seems to happen, I get uprooted and we move to a new city. This usually seemed to occur mid school year when my dad would get transferred to a new ship or base. I’m a Navy brat and moving is nothing new to me. I’ve lost count of the number of times we it’s happened. Sometimes the places we go are kind of cool and sometimes they really suck. Hawaii was great. Living near Pearl Harbor and Oahu and being able to learn to surf was awesome. Japan was not quite so cool, but it was still an adventure to see a different culture. I try to make the best of it knowing it won’t be long until the next move or until I’m shuffled back to the grans for the school year or summer holiday.

Growing up a military brat, however, did have its advantages. There were all kinds of programs to help the kids while a parent was deployed, and with my dad being on a ship he was away quite often. There were campouts, sports activities, and all kinds of things to keep you distracted. I had taken up Karate when we were in Japan and excelled at it eventually earning a black belt degree by the time I was fourteen. I took some classes in Kendo and also studied Taekwondo briefly. Living on Navy bases there were always Marines around, so I was also able to learn MCMAP, which is the Marine Corps Martial Arts Program. Even though I technically couldn’t earn a belt, I surprised a lot of the Marines by passing the qualifications for a brown belt. My dad was beaming with pride the day he saw me sparring with a Marine, who was not much bigger than me physically but years older. I did manage to come out on top of the match in the end, much to the dislike of the Marine.

My name’s Matt and I’m five foot, three inches, dark blond hair that looks brown at times. It really depends how much time I’ve spent in the sun. I have blue eyes and weigh in at about 120 pounds on a good day. Personally I never thought I was anything special to look at, but I’ve been told more than a few times I’m good looking. I played baseball and soccer and was on the swim team at school near Seattle. I enjoyed working out and could be found swimming on almost a daily basis. I take after my mother in size and my dad just towers over me. My mom and I have had our problems, but she’s the one that’s home with me when dad is deployed and has to lay down the law. Dad is my idol, pure and simple. I’m always sad when his ship is out and at his side as soon as he’s home. My dad always hoped I’d join the Navy when I got old enough, but I always knew the military wasn’t for me. I love the look of a man in uniform just as long as I’m not the one in uniform.

We had been in Seattle for two years with my dad’s ship stationed at Bremerton and I hoped we would stay two more years until I graduated from high school. One thing you have to get use to as a Navy brat is that when you hope to be able to stay someplace, new orders are going to come in and you end up having to start all over again in a new place. Making new friends is always a pain along with figuring out the lay of the land at a new school, city, and base.

It was bad enough leaving some of the best friends I ever had, but it was worse to be leaving my first boyfriend. Yeah, I’m gay. At the time we moved only a couple of close friends knew we were dating and they were so cool about it. I hoped that when dad started to tell me he was going to a new station that maybe we’d to San Diego, but no such luck. Instead of going someplace that has a big gay community like Seattle, we ended up in Norfolk, Virginia. Don’t get me wrong, Virginia is a beautiful state; however it’s not exactly the most accepting place to be young and gay. I guess the only good thing about this move is that it happened just before the beginning of the new school year.

When we moved, I was just about to turn sixteen. I did my best to help my mom get everything ready and also did my best to not let it show how much it hurt to be leaving my friends and boyfriend. I know most people don’t take high school dating that seriously and will tell you that you’ll find someone new and just as exciting or even better, but the two of us fit so well together and I’m not talking about sex. When we were around each other it wasn’t possible to feel anything less than completely happy. Enough about that though. He’s in my past now, and it’s sometimes better not to open old wounds more than needed.

We had moving was down to military precision as Dad liked to say. We got settled in Norfolk and I started to learn my way around my newest school. I stayed more of a loaner than I usually would have in the past. Even though there were tons of Navy kids in the school, I was missing my boyfriend and didn’t feel comfortable being myself around these new people. The other kids weren’t unfriendly, but no one wanted to be the first to chat up the new guy. Depression set in and I was more moody that a typical teenager. Even though my boyfriend and I still chatted online and used Skype when we could, it hurt because we couldn’t be together.

Dad was busy with work on his new ship getting ready for a deployment. Mom was getting involved with the different wives groups and her new church so my birthday was overlooked. At times I felt like I was in the way even though my dad always tried to make time for me whenever he could. He knew I was unhappy about moving, but it’s the life of a Navy brat. Besides, aren’t all teenagers supposed to be unhappy about something?

Then that fateful day arrived which had a profound impact on my life. The day I accidentally outed myself to my parents. Dad’s computer was having some problem and he needed to check something for work so he decided to use mine. Normally he would have asked, but I was out riding my bike around the area. I had forgotten to log out of my email when I closed my laptop so the first thing he saw was an email from my former boyfriend telling me how much he missed me and that he still loves me as well as a few things he wished he could have done for my birthday. I’m sure you can get the general picture of the email. Dad started looking through some of my other emails and my love life was all right there laid out in black and white.

When I got home from my ride mom was unusually quiet and if I would have been paying attention I would have noticed she was actually avoiding me. I showered, dressed, and made myself presentable for dinner. It was one of the quietest dinners in the history of our family. I asked dad how things were going on the ship and didn’t get much more than grunts in response. I just figured he had a bad day or someone kept fucking up giving him headaches. Finally when he finished he took a long drink of his beer and stared directly at me. “So you’re a God damn fuckin’ faggot?”

I’m sure I turned every color possible from bright red to white as a ghost. I couldn’t get my mouth to form any words, and there were barely any sounds that were able to make it out of my mouth as I sat stunned. I then used the typical teenage response of trying to deny it. In his full Navy “I’m going to kick some enlisted sailor ass” voice he started yelling about how he found the emails and not to even try to lie about it. That was followed by the back of his hand making contact with my face sending my chair flying backwards. My dad had never hit me once in my entire life. My loving mom just sat there not even looking at me or defending me from being hit. She finally said I was no longer her innocent boy, but allowed evil to corrupt me and would be condemned to burn in hell for all eternity, for which I deserved.

I don’t clearly remember dad getting up, but I know he did because he was standing over me and I was once again within his reach. I soon felt his fist hitting me over and over again. In between blows he made sure I knew how much of a disappointment I was to him, and how he no longer considered me his son. As far as he was concerned, I was now dead or had never existed. I was too much in shock to even think to fight back or say anything. I just laid there taking hit after hit from the man I practically worshiped.

As soon as he stopped hitting me I scramble my feel and ran to my room. I got my bag and stuffed it with all the clothes I could fit in it. I grabbed my wallet and a couple other things I wanted. I wasn’t really sure what I was doing, but I knew I needed to get out for a little while at least. I hoped maybe things would calm down and we could talk about it or something.

Those hopes were dashed when a few minutes later he appeared at my door and told me I wasn’t welcome in HIS home anymore and he wanted me out and to never come back. As soon as he was gone from my door I walked across to my parent’s room and pulled his Glock 9mm pistol out of the nightstand drawer. I flipped off the safety, and knowing my dad always had a round in the chamber put my thumb on the hammer to pull it back. I was shaking so bad that before I could cock the gun and put the barrel in my mouth my thumb slipped off the hammer and it discharged.

Dad quickly showed up at the door and looking even more furious than before and told me how worthless I was because I even fucked up killing myself. I’m still not sure if I was hoping he would have tried to stop me from shooting myself and maybe tell me he was sorry, but he just chambered another round and placed the barrel against my forehead. He asked if I needed him to do it for me. I don’t know where my voice came from, but I heard myself yell, “Just pull the damn trigger you fucking bastard.” He swung the gun at me, hitting me in the side of the head and knocked me to the floor. I felt a small trickle of blood run down the side of my head. When I was able to get up, I ran back to my room, took my bag and ran out the front door not looking back. I had no clue where to go. We had only been in Norfolk for a month and I had not really made any friends yet that I thought I could turn to. I thought about going to the police and destroy my dad’s career, but was too scared at the time.

I wandered around for hours while not even paying attention to where I was walking. I ended up at a park near the mouth of the James River, sat down, and started crying. I was feeling dizzy and sick to my stomach. Emotionally I was a complete and total wreck, going through anger, sadness, and hopelessness just to name a few. I probably sat there for a couple of hours listening to the water while I cried on and off. Every time I thought the tears were done, they’d start all over again.

I pulled out my phone to send my boyfriend, I guess my ex-boyfriend, a text saying my life was over and he would not be hearing from me again. When I hit send I got an error messages saying the text couldn’t be sent. It didn’t take me long to realize that I had no service because my dad had already cancelled my phone. I threw it as far out into the water as I could and was trying to build up the courage (for lack of a better term) to throw myself into the water and let the sea take me. I kind of laughed at myself for having taken the time to pack since at that moment all I wanted to do was kill myself.

For some damned reason, the fucking Navy Hymn of all things, Eternal Father, was running through my mind. Every time I thought I was finally ready to throw myself into the water, something screamed in my mind, “Don’t do this!!!” I couldn’t see any future for myself but I thought I was just too much of a coward to simply walk out into the river and drowned myself. Why couldn’t that bastard have just pulled the trigger? To me, that would have solved everything. I would be dead like I wanted and he would have explain to the police why his son’s a bloody, lifeless mess.

I don’t know how long the argument went on in my head. I started contemplating every possible way I could think of to kill myself. I wanted it to be quick and easy for me but something horrific for them to have to deal with. I ruled out jumping in front of a bus or train as I didn’t want the driver to have to live with killing someone for the rest of his life. There wasn’t even a good bridge to jump off of in the area. I think that I put so much time just thinking about it, that I finally started to come down from the immediate wish to be dead. I must have spent a few hours just sitting there listening to the water while trying to figure out a way to end my life.

A little before dawn, I saw someone walking in my direction. Something told me to be careful of him. As he walked behind me he grabbed my bag and started running. I took off after him and before the man could get far he tripped and falling face first on the ground. I ran over and without thinking started taking out my aggressions on him until he laid there unconscious. I got my stuff and figured it was time to get away from there. I finally made it to a wooded area near the entrance to the docks and found a relatively safe spot hidden in the brush where I felt I could get some rest. I was scared, angry, exhausted, and hurt both mentally and physically. It felt like I might have had at least one broken rib if not more and I needed some sleep badly. I guessed my death could wait another couple of hours and I cried myself to sleep.

******

When I woke up, it took a few minutes to remember where I was and everything that had happened the previous night. I again started to cry as I couldn’t understand how my parents could have turned on me like that. I knew my mother was religious and had her thoughts on what is right and wrong. She had supported her last church’s decision to welcome openly gay members. It actually hurt worse thinking of my dad since for as long as I could remember he was my hero. I had never heard him make jokes about gays and even at times when some of his sailors did make a questionable remark he was the first to slap them down, making it understood it was not acceptable. It was hard to believe this was the same man that when he found out his own son was gay, beat me, put a gun to my head, and finally threw me out of the house saying I was no longer his son and not to come back. I had heard the stories about things going bad and people getting abandoned by their families for coming out and I was always secure knowing that just wasn’t a possibility of ever happening to me, but now I was homeless, on my own in a new city, had very little money, and just sixteen years old.