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Buried
Buried

Buried

BrokenBroken

Hi, my name is Noah and I have a lot of secrets but my sexuality isn't one.

I pulled the sweatshirt over my skinny body and grabbed my backpack, late for another day in hell. As I rushed through the kitchen making the lunch my friends would end up eating instead of me my dad came into the room. He looked at me disapprovingly then left the room, briefcase in tow. Yeah, I'm wearing my gay pride sweatshirt. So what? I am the only person at Hawkview High, hell I'm the only person in Hawkview that's gay and out of the closet. I'm proud of that fact, after all it isn't my fault a girl has never done anything for me but the poster of Zac Efron in my room turns me on.

On the bus I put in my headphones but don't listen to anything to at least muffle all the rude comments coming my way. Then there was pasta in my dark brown hair and tears streaming down my face, stinging the new wound of a recent lip piercing. At the next stop I rushed off the bus and ran home crying. The day had started normal and turned to shit. My next actions I'd never forget.

I stopped the sobs as I ran up the front steps and crept up to my room as quietly as I could but I'd closed the door to loud. He was still here. Why? Why the hell was he still here? 8:07 AM. He should be gone! Fuck! Fuck! Shit! I thought as I heard his pounding footsteps coming down the hall. Please don't I quietly begged. And then I was at the bottom of the stairs crying and screaming "STOP!! STOP!! Please! Please stop! Dad you're hurting me! Stop! Help me!." over and over again while he kicked my stomach sigh his expensive CEO-of-a-large-company shoes.

As soon as I saw his, now bloody, expensive CEO-of-a-large-company shoes step into his expensive red BMW that in turn rolled out of the expensive driveway to our expensive house and down the expensive street past other expensive houses I ran inside. I rushed up to his room and went to the far left corner of his closet. His gun cabinet.

I pulled out the shiniest one I could find not knowing anything about them except how to shoot them. I then reached up for the surprisingly heavy box that was full of the clothes of my dead mother. I opened the box and realized I accidentally grabbed the one full of sex toys and magazines, ones full of men and ones full of women, my dad thinks I don't know about. I quickly switched the boxes after grabbing my favorite glass toy and pulled out the dress. I walked to the bathroom and slipped in the toy then opened the drawers still filled with cosmetics, my moms and mine, and applied some makeup to my acne-free face. Then I walked back to my room put on the dress and waited.

I heard him come home that night at half past five on the dot and stood in the bathroom running my fingertips over the scars on my arm. Five minutes after I heard him settle himself down at the computer I walked downstairs to the office, gun in hand. As I walked I was very aware of the plug and thought to myself that'll be a nice surprise if they find it huh? I walked into the room with the gun behind my back and a big smile on my face.

"Hi daddy!" I said.

"Son what are you wear-"

"This is how I want to be buried!" I said happy as ever as I pulled the gun from behind my back.

"Noah! What are you-"

Just then I applied pressure to the trigger. I didn't feel a thing I just fell to the ground and stared at his shoes for a moment, the blood was gone. I looked up as I was drifting out of consciousness and saw red splattering the wall. He was screaming, it was high pitched and girly. I just smiled.

Three weeks later I swam up from a coma in to a hospital bed with no feeling below my waist. The last thing I remember was that girly scream. I just smile and stare at the ceiling.

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About The Author
Broken
Broken
About This Story
Audience:
15+
Posted:
2 May, 2017
Genre:
Tragedy
Type:
Sad
Words:
727
Favorites:
0
Views:
789

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