A Life So Hard - 1. Chapter 1

My life has been hard. Sure, everyone has stuff happen in their lives, it’s impossible to escape. To have had a perfect, happy life goes against some unwritten rule of life; it just doesn’t happen. Ever. Frankly, I think it would be a pretty boring life, too. Sure, some people get lucky and only need to worry about which kind of car their daddy will spring for them for their sweet sixteen. Their biggest worry is when they wake up in the morning and wonder who they’ll date this week. Decisions, decisions. It’s tragic, really. Truly a rough existence to have to boldly endure.

Okay, I didn’t mean to sound bitter or jaded, or something. As a general rule, I don’t like rich people. They tend to be arrogant, self-absorbed and snobby. I do concede that there is the odd exception, though. Sadly, such privileged and kind people are few and far between. In my lifetime, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting, and falling in love with one such individual, but I’ll get to that later.

Unfortunately, the type of people that aren’t few and far between are the “average” and “below-average” people, and sadly it leans more towards the latter.

Don’t get me wrong or anything, I’ve never gone a day without food, or had second-hand clothing. My … “family” has always done okay in the financial and materialistic sense. While I’ve never had to do without, my emotional development has... suffered.

I don’t like talking about myself or what’s happened to me in my life. I consider anything more then a casual salutations personal, and I just don’t humor people. Ever. The select few around me either got used to it or they didn’t. Makes no difference to me, I stopped caring a long time ago.

I’d almost trade places with the super rich or the super poor. At least their problems were tangible, as superficial as they may be. Superficial, stereotypical, but tangible, accepted and known by society, expected. Expected and can be dealt with, addressed, fixed. Me? No. Nothing about me is tangible. Nothing about me is expected. Definitely nothing about me can be fixed. Anyways, I can’t believe I just said all of that. I’m going to just stop now. Okay, all I’m going to say is that I’m beyond redemption, beyond help and I’m okay with that, so I’ve stopped trying, hoping.

Anyways, enough of the sappy, “deep” crap. You’re probably wondering about shit that actually matters. Well, I’m currently sitting on a plane beside my dad, who has the aisle seat. On the other side of me is a man that definitely should of gotten two seats, if you know what I mean. A long, boring flight, stuck talking to my dad about a shitty summer that I just want to block out and never have to think about again. I wasn’t even able to look out the window because I couldn’t even see it. I tried to sleep as much as I could, since I was giving my dad non-answers and avoiding talking about my summer as much as possible was very unpleasant. We’d finally landed and had begun taxiing into LAX!

Okay, okay. Whoa. I used an exclamation point. Yeah, I got excited about something, but don’t get used to it. Mark this day down on your calendar, as it will be a rare moment for both you and me.

We finally pulled up to the gate and were advised by our shitty flight attendants that we could get up and get off this god damned plane. I hate flying, and medically shouldn’t really be doing it, but they made it so much worse. They barely got off their ass to do anything. Their introduction, about safety and all that, was so crappy and unmotivated, it almost made me wish something actually did happen. Plus, they didn’t even give us the first snack until like 4 hours into the flight. Complete and utter bullshit, and I’m so glad it’s over with. I wouldn't willingly step onto a plane again for a very long time.

“Ugghh!” My dad groaned, stretching. “One hell of a flight, sucks having to do it twice now, especially since I had to come back to do it again.”

I snorted, “I barely survived. I do not know how you managed.”

“It was exceptionally bad, since I had something digging into my leg.” He said, giving me a weird look, a gleam in his eye.

I couldn’t help but cock an eyebrow. He said he’d change and he was definitely putting in a serious effort. But we have been at 35,000 ft for the past god only knows how long, and the lack of air could have gotten to him; we’ll have to wait and see. I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of trick he’d pull, now that we’re down to Earth, so to speak.

“Yeah, I had this,” he explained, stopping to dig through his jean pocket, “digging into my leg.” He was holding a car key.

I excitedly snatched it from his hands. “No freakin’ way!” I exclaimed, in an uncharacteristic outburst. “Well, that’s pretty cool.” I added, clearing my throat and calming down.

Dad, laughing, and ruffled my hair. He made his way off of the plane and I followed close behind. Just before I stepped off, I gave the head flight attendant the dirtiest look I could summon, and wished that looks could kill. Our quest to re-enter the outside world had begun. This time, though, when I entered it, I could be across the continent and in a foreign country. Customs was more intimidating then I’m willing to admit; since this was my first time in America, and I was moving here, they seemed to give me a little bit more attention than the average passenger. I had to go alone, since I was deemed to be “of age” (whatever the hell that means) and I was talking to the armed customs officer for a good ten minutes before he released me with a warm welcome.

I must admit, though. When I told the armed customers officer named Devin that I had moved here, to suburbs outside of Los Angeles, it gave me a really weird feeling. I kinda tingled inside, and I’m not quite sure why. Surely it couldn't be the feeling of happiness?

We proceeded through the twisted corridors of the Los Angeles International Airport, which quite frankly, is incredibly, ridiculously confusing. Even my dad, who’s been here more than once, found everything hard to find. We finally managed to find the luggage carousel and collected our belongings. Dad only had one bag, since he was only back for a few days. Most of my stuff was being shipped, but I still brought as much clothing as I could (we don’t know how long my stuff will take to get here, if anything will be missing, and something could happen to it all) so I had, like, four bags.

We found one of those carts and loaded all our stuff on it. We talked to the airport employee that was sitting at the desk about animal cargo. The guy seemed irritated that we disturbed him, but he pointed us to a side door which was off the main luggage room. We walked in there and dad went to the counter. He showed the person his flight ticket and claim ticket and they disappeared into a back room. They were gone for a few minutes, and every second they weren't here, I could feel myself getting more tense. Finally, after an eternity they came back with a smallish green cat carrier. “Rain!” I yelled, and grabbed the carrier. My baby was asleep inside, but woke up at the disturbance and gave me a small meow.

I smiled at that, because I knew it was his way of saying “Hi”. Rain, a cat I found a few years ago was probably the only source of happiness in my life. I loved this cat so damn much, it’s ridiculous. He sleeps on my bed every night, without exception. Sometime he’ll be right up by my head, sometimes he’s at my feet. But he’s always with me. He keeps me sane.

With all our luggage and my cat successfully reclaimed, we made our way through the exit doors and into the outside world. As I stepped out of the airport into the California air, the glare from the sun temporarily blinded me. Once I’d adjusted, I began to take in my surroundings and found myself slightly... disappointed. We were standing beside a long strip of road. Tons of people were all around us (which made me highly uncomfortable) and they were loading their crap into cars or taxis. Taxis were everywhere, you couldn’t throw a stone without hitting a taxi. Past all of that, there was a massive parking lot. It stretched for a ridiculously long length, it was easily a 10 minute walk to the far end. Scattered around on seemingly random poles were signs that were letters of the alphabet, so you didn’t lose your car.

“We’re over in D” dad pointed to the pole and we began our journey to my new car. After several grueling minutes, we arrived in front of my new car. “Holy shit!” I yelled. Sitting front of me was a brand new, 2011 Dodge Charger. “This thing is beautiful.” I squealed in excitement. I walked around the bright orange car. It was beautiful. I did a full walk around the car, admiring it’s beauty, it’s perfection.

We loaded all our luggage into the trunk and I put Rain in the backseat. I opened the door and sat down in the drivers seat, dad was already sitting in the passenger seat. I took the keys and nervously turned the car on. I smiled as the engine roared to life. I watched as dad opened the glove box and pulled out a GPS. He inputted an address, our new home I assume, and suction cupped the device to the windshield. I tore out of the parking lot following the GPS directions.

After about a half hour drive, we finally arrived at our new home. Well, dad’s obviously been there before, since he’s been living here for the past 2 months or so. It was my first time seeing it, and man was the house beautiful. It was a two story brick house, and had a massive driveway and front yard. It was sheltered from the other two houses on either side with thick bushes and trees; it was nice and secluded, but on a busy residential street. To the left was a massive 2 car garage, enough room for my car and dad’s BMW M6 2011 convertible. My jaw actually dropped when I saw that beauty. We stepped inside, dragging as much of the luggage with us as we could carry and the inside was just as amazing.

We grabbed our stuff and headed in through the beautiful oak front door. I let Rain out of her carrier and left her to her own devices; Dad had setup her kitty litter already. We put down my suitcases and I began to explore the house. There was a winding staircase leading upstairs, with nice wooden railing. The floors were a mix of tile and beautifully stained wood. Going into the kitchen, there was a set of bar stools along the side of the kitchen to eat at, as well as a nice kitchen table. Off the kitchen was the fancy dining room that had a massive table that could easily sit 15 people. The counters in the kitchen were marble and the cabinets were a beautiful dark wood. The house was officially gorgeous.

Dad must’ve seen me staring around in amazement, “She’s amazing, and the company got her for me at a steal too.” He explained. “Elizabeth should be in your room, go see her with your stuff.”

I picked my suitcases back up and began to drag them up the stairs as they rapidly seemed to get heavier and heavier. I finally reached the top of the stairs and looked around. To my immediate left was the master bedroom, and to my right was Elizabeth’s room with the bathroom beside her room, for her to use. Down the hall from that, at the end was my room with a bathroom and shower attached. I dragged my stuff over, thankful that the built-in wheels could be used again and slowly opened the ajar door.

She must have been in her early to mid (at most) 20s and she was quite attractive. Her hair was blonde and went a little bit past her shoulders. She was wearing casual clothes, but they still looked really good on her. She had a white tank top on, and jean shorts that looked like she’d taken the scissors to them herself. I noticed an iPod sticking out of her back pocket. She had her back to the door, and was making my bed.

I cleared my throat, hoping that she would notice me, to no avail. “Uh.. excuse me?” I tentatively spoke. Still nothing. I opened the door a bit more, and it must have caught her ankle as she was making her way around my bed. “Oh!” she jumped. She took out her headphones and looked at me with a smile. “You must be Andrew.” She greeted me, the warmth from her smile filled the room. I think I liked her already.

“I’m Elizabeth.” She said, sticking out her hand to shake mine. “I was just making your bed. Your clothes will go in that dresser there,” she explains, as she points to a dresser beside my door. “Here, come on,” she says, as she pats my newly made bed. “get your bags up here and we’ll make quick work of putting your clothes away.” I do as she says, and heave my luggage bag onto my bed. I unzip it and we get to work. We really did make quick work of it, as the entire bag was emptied and put away in a matter of minutes.

“Sorry if I embarrassed you by touching your underwear.” Elizabeth teases me. “But, if it’s any consolation, my cousin is your age, and I’ve seen it all, so don’t worry about me.” My ears perk up at that, and my curiosity almost got the better of me, but I chose to say nothing about it.

“Thanks” I say, smiling at her and blushing a bit. “Uh. Thank-you for your help.”

“No problem, sweetie. I’m going to go help your dad with dinner.” She says, smiling, as she leaves my room. For the first time today, I’m alone. With a sigh, I lean back on my bed and fall asleep before my head hit the pillow.

I woke up several hours later and still kind of tired. The tiredness you feel from travelling is tricky, since most of the time you’re actually not doing a whole hell of a lot. I was still a little groggy, but I managed to slowly turn my head and look out the window. Dark. Damnit, it’s night. I summoned all my will power and dragged myself out of bed. Slowly I made my way down the hall and the stairs to the kitchen. I looked at the stove time and it said it was 9:45 PM. I inwardly cringed, knowing it would be a pain in the ass to get my sleep schedule back to normal for school.

“Andrew? Are you finally up?” I heard dad yell from the basement.

“Yeah. Did you eat already?” I hollered back.

“Check the oven.” was his reply.

Opening the oven, I found a chicken breast, peas and some mashed potatoes kept warm from the oven. I’m kind of a picky eater which dad knows, but, judging by the complexity of the meal, Elizabeth cooked it. She probably will learn quite quickly that I’m a picky eater. I reluctantly plopped my ass down on one of the bar stools and began to eat anyways. I slowly worked my way through the chicken breast (which wasn’t bad) and the mashed potatoes. Peas completely untouched, I made my way over to the garbage can.

“Aww... don’t like the healthy stuff?” Elizabeth said, in mock sadness, which turned into a smirk. “It’s okay, sweetie, I’ll get you eating healthy if it’s the last thing I do.” she said as she walked past me and patted me on the head. With her back to me, wiping down the counter, I couldn’t help but admire her. She was quite good looking. Elizabeth was tall, but not tall enough for it to be unattractive. She wasn’t creepily skinny, either. She seemed to fall nicely into each category, which made her incredibly attractive.

“So, who’s Mr. Elizabeth?” I asked her, before I realized what I had just said. “Oh, there’s no Mr. Elizabeth.” she said, turning to me. “Why? Do I look like I’m to old to be single? Am I unattractive? I mean, I’m only 23 and so what if I’m single?”

“Uh.. well, um.” I babbled, not really sure what to say.

She gave me this knowing look. “Why do you ask?” she said in a suggestive tone as she walked towards me. “Do you want to apply for that position?”

“Uh.. oh, well. um. Nothing.. uh, personal. But, like... um. I just.” I continued to babble. I had no clue what to say and was cursing myself for saying anything and putting myself into this ridiculously uncomfortable position.

“Oh, I’m just teasing you, Andrew. Lighten up, buddy.” She laughed, and punched me in the shoulder.”

I just stood there stunned, not really sure what just happened.

Her face turned serious all of a sudden. “So, how long have you known?”

Whoa. She did not just ask me that, did she? She couldn’t have asked me that. Of all people, besides Dad, she can’t know. If she knows, then he’ll find out. Nobody can know, but especially he can’t know. Almost like she could read my mind, she said, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone... especially your father.”

“Uhm.. well, uh. A while, I guess” I mumbled.

Shit, shit, shit. I just answered her question. I just told her I was gay and that I’ve known for a while. Shit. Shit, what the hell am I going to do? This could go so wrong in so many ways. What if she’s homophobic? I know I’m in California now and it’s less likely that she is, but it could happen. What if she starts yelling at me and flipping out? She could start going on a raving rant about how sinful I am, and how I’m going to Hell and all that shit.

Worse yet, she could tell my dad. She could call him upstairs right now and tell him he has a faggot son. I can imagine it right now, “Oh yeah, Dustin. I was just coming into the kitchen when your son Andrew here decided to start hitting on me. That’s bad enough as it is, but it turned out to all be a cover for his faggoty ass. Yes, Dustin. I’m so sorry to break the news to you, but your son is a flaming faggot.”

He’d naturally be absolutely disgusted. He’d turn to me and let loose. “A faggot? No, not my son.” Then he’d look deep in my eyes, and ask, “Are you a faggot, Andrew? Are you one of those homosexuals that likes to take it in the ass?” The thought of him asking me that question mortifies me. It scares me, the thought of him knowing my deviancy. It made me feel sick to my stomach.

“Oh really, is that so?” Elizabeth said, with a look in her eyes. “That’s a very interesting development.”

Oh shit, here it goes. She’s going to open her mouth now, and start yelling. Yelling at me for being such a horrible, sinful person and Dad will come running up the stairs and find out the truth. Then I’ll be living on the streets. Oh shit, man. One freakin’ day and I’m already going to be living on the streets. Just my luck.

“Well, goodnight Andrew, sweetie.” She said with a gentle smile and walked past me. heading to her room.

What... the... hell... just... happened...? Did I miss something? That made no sense. Interesting development? What the hell is that supposed to mean? All the energy I got from eating was drained right back out of me because of my exchange with Elizabeth. Emotionally and mentally drained, I made my way back upstairs.

I couldn’t help it, but as I passed Elizabeth’s room, I heard her on the phone. I wasn’t planning on listening, but the first thing she said caught me off guard.

“Yes, I swear, he’s a cutie.”
“Yes, he is!”
“I swear he is, he even told me.”
“Yeah, he’ll be going to your school.”
“Ha ha, I know.”
“You wish, buddy.”
“Okay, goodnight.”

Elizabeth hung up the phone and the light in her room turned off a second later. Shocked at what I heard, I stumbled back to my room and managed to crawl into bed. I took off my shirt and pants, threw them onto the floor and turned over and fell asleep. I’ll think about the implications of this in the morning.

---

They quickly found their seats and began to pull out their textbooks and work stuff. I looked down at my bookbag, so I could do the same. I cringed when I saw it. It was bright pink, with fuzzy shit all over it and a giant unicorn on the front, with a rainbow flying out of it’s ass. I sighed, and unzipped it, anyways. I began to pull out the contents of my bag, first a bottle of lube, then a set of fuzzy handcuffs. I reluctantly put them both on my desk, since I didn’t really have anywhere else for them to go. I reached in further and pulled out a box of condoms. Okay, this is ridiculous. I gathered all the items in my hands and started my walk of shame to the front, to throw all this crap out. I slowly walked by each row of desks, deeply aware of all the eyes staring at me. Finally, after seemingly walking for forever, I reached the teachers desk with the garbage bin beside it. Just as I was about to start putting all this shit in the garbage, someone shouted, “Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing with that stuff?”

I turned, to see who it was, and there was a guy standing at the door. A really, really hot guy. For some reason he was shirtless, and he was ridiculously muscular. He must of just finished football practice or something because he was wearing really tight shorts (which left little to the imagination, I might add). His chest was gleaming with sweat, to, which was incredibly sexy. Anyways, so I turned to face him and meekly managed to spit out, “Well, uhm.. I’m just... throwing this, stuff, uhm.. away.”

He approached me, and looked really angry. “You don’t throw this shit away, you faggot. You use this shit, you ass pirate.” He turned to face the class and burst out laughing; I was surrounded by loud, mocking laughter. Trying to ease the tension and because I was scared as hell, I started laughing, too. “Don’t you laugh, eh! Did I give you permission to laugh?” He yelled at me, as he spit at my feet.

Catching me off guard, he grabbed my shirt and threw me against the chalkboard. My lower back erupted in pain as it hit the ledge where the chalk is kept. As my back begun to spasm, because a metal ledge was being shoved into it, I dropped everything I was holding. “Pick that shit up, faggot.” He yelled at me. As I leaned down to grab the stuff again, he grabbed my ass. I cringed, because I wasn’t expecting it, and it was kind of a turn on (to be honest).

“Faggot digs the ass, eh. I knew you were a dirty bottom boy.” He said, giving me an evil smile. “I guess I’ll have to show you a really good time, eh.” With that, he grabbed me by my hair and threw me against the closest desk. The guy sitting there pushed his chair back with a look of disgust on his face. While I was disorientated against the desk, my attacker pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Taking in a puff, I could feel him blowing the smoke onto me, hitting my back. He then put his hands on my shoulders and pushed them down, so my stomach was against the desk and my ass was sticking out.

“No, please, you don’t need to do this.” I begged him, hoping to get him to stop.

“We don’t like bottom boys here. Elizabeth told me all about you and we don’t like your kind here. You taint us.” As he was talking, with venom in his voice, I could feel his left hand venturing down to my zipper, to take my pants off.

“No, no. Please don’t. Please. I’ll do anything else. Just, please, no!”