Young Writers Society

My eyes wandered over the house I used to belong to, the house I used to live in. It was so much to take in after a year of being away. From the outside it hadn’t changed- the structure was still mansion like, the colors were still classic whites, blacks, and yellows, the lawn surrounding it was still trimmed perfectly, and the garden that lined the pathway and edges of the house still flourished beautiful colors.

In my mind, I had no doubt the inside hadn’t changed either. After all, there wasn’t anything to change. The furniture was the finest, the rooms were grand, and the decorations were only the most exquisite and expensive. Everything was perfect- everyone was perfect.

Everyone except for my brother, whose hand I had a deadly grip on, and me.

My brother, Blaine, is gay- something that doesn’t sit well with our top notch lawyer of a father who is known all around. My father resented him, as did our mother, when he came out to them 2 years ago. They yelled and insulted him for being a “fag” and for being so disgusting.

I’m not gay, but mind as well be because they hate me all the same. Instead, I was a rebel as they called it, a messed up child. I was suffering from depression and didn’t know how to deal with it. They saw the cuts on my arms and witnessed the nights I came home drunk, and didn’t do anything but yell at me for being a failure.

So, one night after many hours of physical and verbal abuse, they decided to send us away. They told everyone that we were going to private boarding school in Illinois, but what they did was put us in reform schools.

I remember being so worried for Blaine because he wasn’t one to fight, while I would if I needed to easily. But, as I glance to my left, I know that now, in any situation, he would. The reform school changed him. Not out of being gay, but he stood up for himself. We both stood up for what we believed was right. The only negative thing that came out of the school was the walls we both put up.

“You ready, B?” I heard him say to me in a quiet, distant voice, breaking me out of my memories.

I squeezed his hand and both our ice-blue eyes met. I smiled half-heartedly as he squeezed it back and then let out a small sigh. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Let’s do this."