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(By Mike D A Rowden ) The family was sitting down. Just a normal family supper. Home-made cuisine tonight consisted of green beans, baked beans, turkey, mashed potatoes, and some ham cooked with pineapple. It smelled excellent, to my standards.

My family was your 21st century Brady Bunch. Perfect lives, great jobs, always happy, and not many domestic problems. Of course…my family was d*mn near all around perfect. Until you were a part. The perfection was annoying. There were few if any secrets kept in this family, mostly because of the enormous and ludicrous amounts of trust put into one another. There was one secret, however, that was kept.

“I’m gay,” erupted I. There had been no dinner-time discussion until then, as Father hadn’t brought anything up. Suddenly, every face was toward me. In an instant, every jaw at the table had dropped. A small amount of mashed potatoes and ham fell out of Mother’s mouth as she stared at me with an empty and hollow gaze.

The only voices now were the attempts at family members trying to empathize me. Jacob ridiculed me, calling me a fag, to which I flung my plate across the table at him and stood up. Now, I can kick this child’s ass in a minute. He knows this. So does my parental figure…that is to say, Father.

I say that Father is my parental figure because, just like the Brady Bunch - Father punishes us boys, and Mother takes to the sisters. In all honesty, I think Mother is much more strict, and that’s fine with me. Father was next to me, and I guess he understood my silently challenging my brother, because he made no attempt to stop me as I lunged at him.
I caught Jacob by the throat, but he got off a couple hits to my groin. He also got a comment - something along the lines of , “Can’t stick that anywhere now,” which only fueled my rage further. I had bloodied his nose before Mother got on my case for staining the carpet. It would be a bitch to get out, that’s for sure.

In all my experience, blood stains were inexplicably difficult to remove from carpet, even if the carpet was red to begin with. Last time I had a blood stain on my apartment carpet, which was red by the way, was just a few months prior to this incident. Joseph was drunk when he came home one night. In any case, let us proceed with the story at hand, shall we?

Being that it was a few days before Christmas, the family had gathered over at our parents’ house about a week early. Jacob and I had been the first, and so there were just the four getting re-acquainted with one another. I was staying in my old room, which I shared with Jacob. The bastard.

He was always the youngest, I, the eldest. He was a brat and a wannabe bully. This meant that all throughout the night, I could hear Jacob whispering, “Fag,” and, “I hope it hurts you carpet-munching queer.” It hurt, those words stabbed into me, bleeding me of all emotion. By far, his worst comment was, "You didn't come out of the closet. No man, you're out of the apartment now," which tore into me.

I figured it would be hard, coming out of the closet. It was all I’d been thinking of for the past few weeks, how I would say it. In fact, I had an entire speech written out, rehearsed, and memorized. I don’t know why I hadn’t said it. Maybe because it was too stressed.

But I’d spent hours, days, nights, all sleepless, just thinking about it! Trying to see my parent’s faces! I was developing bags under my eyes. I swear my hair had fallen out from some of it. My career had started to fall. All of this over some stupid comment about my sex life.

What business was it of theirs, anyway? No, they had to know. I had to tell them, right? I’d been shadowing it for about a year now. They deserved to know…didn’t they? Okay, so Jacob didn’t. The little prick wouldn’t shut up now. Honestly, it hurt. Just because I found women unattractive. What’s wrong with that?

“God made Adam and EVE! Not Adam and Aaron. Fag.” My heart was ripped open. My own brother! And it wasn’t just family criticism! It wasn‘t sibling rivalry, it was flat out discrimination! I wanted to kill him. So badly. He didn’t know how it felt to walk down the street every day. Having some random teen punk yell, “Queer! Bend over! I got something for ya, fag!” Every single day. When I’d shown up for work, people would ridicule me, threaten me, and all sorts of insensitive stuff.

Jacob just wouldn’t shut up. “I’m going to the bathroom, kid. If I come back, you better shut up.”

“Oh, what you gonna do?” He mocked, “Gonna beat off to pictures of me? You-” he paused.

“I’m homosexual. That’s it. Not incest, you sick f**k.” With that, I left the room. When I got into the bathroom, I wrote a quick apology to my parents, mostly for getting blood on the carpet. And then, I dragged the blade up my wrist...It was a sweet sensation. Ahh, death. A quick escape.


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Upload Date: 31/12/1969

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