1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Darren

Leesburg, Virginia - July, 2017

I've learned a lot in my fourteen years of living. One, no one will hand you anything that you want. Two, life will never drop anything into your lap that you need. You have to reach for what you want—grab it by the balls until it screams and bends to your will.

For the first time, I was taking control of my life. I may be young, but you either grow up fast or you suffer. And I wasn't suffering anymore. I was fucking over this.

I stood on wobbly legs, holding my stinging face after my father backhanded me for falling behind on my chores and not getting up early enough to mow the weed-covered front of the house. And for oversleeping because I stayed up too late reading.

My fisted hands dropped to my sides as my cheek throbbed, trying to stem the growing anger and fear. Fear was usually my first reaction, but as I got older, the bitterness and anger started taking over.

"You're to wake up on time, do your damn chores, and do as you're damn well told. You've been slackin' off enough this summer. Get your nose out of those damn books and get your act together!" Dad's twang always got stronger the more pissed he was.

He'd given me worse than this, but I was fucking done. Without another thought, I pulled back my fist and slammed it into his face. It was a reaction, but for the first time, the anger was stronger than the fear.

I stood over my father, who'd fallen on the scuffed and worn wood floor of my bedroom, holding his bleeding nose with a mixture of fear and anger in his deep green eyes. I hated that we shared the same eyes. At least I looked like my pathetic mother, so whenever I looked into the mirror, I saw her , and not him , staring back at me, seeing blond hair and not ashy brown.

The red from rage, frustration, and helplessness to the vivid green jealousy that other people had good, loving parents all swirled around me in emotional colors. They were hard to reel in sometimes, and the older I got, the harder it was to hold it all back and not lash out until I couldn't anymore.

It had gotten so bad that I'd taken my frustrations out on the kids at school because I had no outlet, and I couldn't take them out on my parents—until now.

But from now on, things were fucking changing.

I took a deep breath to control the blinding anger as I looked down at him. For the first time, I wasn't consumed by that familiar fear. It was still there, but it was less heavy.

"If you ever fucking hit me again, I'll do worse than break your nose," I said with fisted hands and aching knuckles hanging at my sides .

"You're a sinner. Children are to obey their father and mother." His voice sounded nasally as blood oozed down his face, and his eyes turned hostile.

I rolled my eyes. "Then you shouldn't have taught me how to throw a punch. You shouldn't have taught me fear and how to make people afraid. What you should've taught me was love and kindness instead of this…"

This hatred I had for my father.

"And I'm fucking done with church."

"Good thing your mother isn't here." Of course, he didn't listen. He never listened, not to my cries, begging, and desperate need to be accepted and loved. Everything was about control—this ‘ Spare the rod, spoil the child ' bullshit. He took everything shitty from the Bible and used it against my mother and me.

"When she gets home, I'll tell her the same thing I told you. She'll do what she always does… cower because you've fucking broken her, just as you wanted. But you can't break me. I won't let you."

The only reason I could defend myself was because I'd finally grown big and strong enough. Already, I stood at six feet and had played football in middle school. Dad was still taller than me, but he was soft and overweight, while I had built muscle and was fast.

This morning became the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. I was so tired of cowering from him and being afraid, and sick of being hit when I wasn't good enough. My mother and I couldn't do anything right, and my father made sure I knew where I stood with him. I was nothing to him, just someone to be controlled because it made him feel strong. I couldn't even remember the last time he'd shown any sort of affection, if ever.

Mom never touched me, but she was as afraid of Dad as I'd been, so she never stood up for me, her only child. Eventually, I grew to resent her, too.

"I'm going to tell you once more so we're clear. From now on, you'll never hit me again. Ever. I'll make you suffer if you do, so help me… I'm going to continue with football, read as much as I can, and get good grades, then I'm fucking out of here. I'll make a name for myself. You'll see."

He said nothing as I walked away.

I shoved the screen door open, slamming it against the house with a squeaking thud.

The day was hot, and the air stood still, and cicadas sang like tinnitus in the ears. We hadn't had rain in a while, so dust kicked up from under my boots as I walked straight to the decrepit old barn we used only for storage.

We didn't have any farm animals other than one fucking cow, who ate her way through the drying grass in the tiny field on the only bit of land we owned. There were also a few chickens behind the house.

By the time I reached the barn doors, my hands were shaking, and my knuckles still stung. The adrenaline was wearing off, and soon, doubts and insecurities surged, along with some heavy fear now that I was away from my father. I'd never stood up for myself before. It was fucking terrifying.

I slid open the worn wooden doors, which screeched from the rusted metal slides. Everything fucking squeaked and creaked around here. The morning light filtered in, making the floating dust motes dance and glow. The air was heavier and hotter inside, making it hard to breathe, and I sneezed from the dust and dirt.

Sitting in the middle of the barn on flat tires in the dirt was the old red pickup truck my grandfather had left me before he died. It was the only thing I could truly call mine. The only thing that had been handed to me without having to beg for it. All I had to do was exist and be loved as the only grandchild.

God, I missed him. Grandad, the only person who'd ever been kind to me, had been gone for over a year .

I ran my still trembling hand over the red 1965 Chevy C10 pickup, which had eventually faded to orange over the years. One day, I'd fix her up and bring life back into her. Even faded and covered in dust and dirt, she was beautiful.

With a deep breath, I opened the driver's side door, which strained loudly on its hinges. The tan leather on the bench seat was cracked in places, and the steering wheel was worn. She'd been well-loved.

While she needed a makeover, my grandfather took care of the engine, so she still ran, and he never left her out to rust. But there was no driving until it had new tires, and I got my driver's license. That never stopped me, though. In the country, we all drove as soon as we could see over the steering wheel.

"One day, I'm going to get you back out on the road where you belong, Baby Girl. You're going to take me fucking out of here."

Most boys want the latest sports car, but not me. I loved my Baby Girl. She had class, character, and strength. When I reached high school this fall, I planned to take an automotive class to learn how to care for this beauty.

I climbed in, sat behind the white steering wheel, and gripped it. As the colorful swirl of emotions ran through me, I rested my head on it and let everything out, turning my mood from red to blue. My face still stung from Dad's backhand, the hot tears making it burn.

This was the only place I felt safe to let my emotions run free, coming out here to breathe and cry whenever I was in pain. To do what I needed to let out all my frustration, fear, and hopelessness. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes I needed to fucking hurt or break something.

No one was ever allowed to see this side of me. I needed to be strong and fearless in the eyes of others. I'd never let anyone hurt me like my parents had. Vulnerability meant danger and pain.

I sat up and wiped my tears and runny nose with the back of my hand, breathing slowly in and out, trying to calm myself down .

"One day, you and I are going to get out of here for good, Baby Girl. Football is our ticket. It has to be. It needs to be."

I would do whatever it took, and no one was going to get in my fucking way. Not my father, my mother, or my loser friends could hold me back.

Mom and I rode in the car in silence as she drove me to the Loudoun County Fair in her Honda Accord , which was nearly as old as I was. Her body was tense around me, especially after she found out I'd punched Dad in the nose. She wasn't only afraid of him, but now she was scared of me, too.

I wanted to feel bad and have empathy for her, but that ship had sailed. She never once protected me against him. I'd never hit her. I wasn't him . But fuck her nonetheless.

I stared out over the setting sun as we drove past farms, woods, and hills. Then, we drove through the town of Leesburg before reaching the carnival.

"I'll pick you up at eleven, Silas," Mom said.

I stiffened. Only my parents called me Silas. Fucking religious name. I stopped believing in God a long time ago when he stopped listening to my prayers for help.

"Darren," I snapped.

"W-what?"

I rolled my eyes. "Stop calling me Silas. I hate that name."

"B-but that's your name."

I preferred Darren, my middle name. It wasn't the best name in the world, but at least I was named after my grandad. He was the only one I'd liked growing up. Mom and he had been close. Even better, he'd hated my father, too, and never wanted his daughter to marry him. After she did, their relationship grew strained, apparently.

"Call me Darren, or else I'll stop responding to you."

She sniffed and nodded, pushing back stray blond hair that had fallen out of her clip and into her face.

More guilt tore at me for making her feel bad, but I shoved it deep inside me. Her weakness made me sick. If I wanted to grab life and make it my own, I couldn't afford to be kind.

As if you've ever been kind a day in your life .

When she pulled to a stop, I opened the door and jumped out.

"I'll be right here when you're ready, Si—Darren."

I didn't respond when I shut the door and walked off.

The night was pleasantly balmy. Dancing colored lights filled the sky so brightly that you couldn't see the stars above. Carnival music and people screaming from the rides made the air feel electric and chaotic. I didn't want to be there, but I wanted to be at home even less.

My friends David Gorecki and Angus Mueller waited for me at the entrance. When I stepped up to them, we fist-bumped.

David was a grade-A dickhead. He always had been since his life wasn't much better than mine. His chocolate-brown hair was wavy and constantly falling in his face, hiding cruel eyes that matched his hair. He wasn't unattractive, but his meanness made him ugly.

Angus was the quiet one, but no less an asshole. His aura was ‘back off or die.' He kept his light brown hair buzzed like mine, though my hair was pale blond like my mother's. Angus's face was covered in acne, and his small blue eyes were ice cold.

Once I started playing football and growing bigger than even most teachers in school, those two numbnuts befriended me, assuming I'd protect them. I became friends with them as a shield to keep people away from me and to hide myself, not wanting anyone to know anything about me other than I was tough, strong, and a badass right guard in football. No one would learn of my weaknesses .

Not even David or Angus knew shit about me, and I intended to keep it that way.

But after today and what happened with my dad, I needed to rethink my life. I was starting high school soon, and things would be different, so I really needed to figure out shit. Everything storming in my head was enough to drive me insane, especially since I was starting to question things about myself—things I could no longer ignore.

David pulled out a smoke from the pack, which he must have stolen from his mother. He lit up and offered me one.

I shook my head, so Angus snagged it and lit up. "No way I'm gonna hurt my dreams of playing professional football and ruin my ticket out of here. That shit'll kill ya."

"Who the fuck cares? None of us is going anywhere, anyway."

"Speak for yourself. I have goals."

David scoffed, but he said nothing else.

"So, who should we fuck with tonight?" Angus asked, quickly changing the subject to something more to his liking.

David took a long drag from his cigarette and blew it into the sky. The air was so still that the ribbons of smoke just swirled around him. "Let's walk around and find some nerdy dickheads. I've been itching to torment someone. I've been fucking grounded for two weeks, man, so I need to release some steam."

Angus smacked David's arm with the back of his hand and pointed toward the funhouse. "Hey, let's go scare some little kids when they come out."

David smirked. "Yeah, sounds fun."

It sounded fucking boring and unnecessary, but I shrugged and followed them.

We hadn't been standing there for long when my breath caught, and my heart slammed against my chest at the sight coming out of the funhouse—the only thing I couldn't grab for myself, no matter how much I wanted it… wanted him .

Dillon Copeland.

He was the very reason I learned I was not only attracted to girls, but to boys as well. He was my bi-awakening. The very idea terrified the hell out of me, imagining my father just putting a gun to my head and finally ending me. My being queer would push him so far over the fucking edge that it would lead to my demise. Our church taught its congregation that homosexuality was a sin that needed to be either converted or eradicated.

God, Dillon was so beautiful. His straight black hair fell in his face. His denim-blue eyes held intelligence, kindness, and an innocence I'd never had. He had the creamiest, palest skin.

Dillon was reserved and quiet, but he oozed strength and confidence. That right there was the result of good parenting. You could always tell when the kids at school had good parents and a happy home life.

Dillon was one of the main reasons for shielding myself behind bullies. Shit, I ended up a bully, too. I had enough awareness to know I had no outlet for my anger. My resentment and jealousy pulled it out of me. Sometimes, it was like I had no control over my behavior. I would just lash out, becoming more and more like my father every day.

But seeing Dillon wasn't the only reason my heart beat too fast or why I struggled to breathe. He came out of the funhouse, holding hands with another boy.

They quickly let go, but it was too late. We all saw it.

Then, the familiar green jealousy and red rage emerged. I'd always wanted him, not that I could have him, but now any chance of that vanished. I didn't know he even liked boys, too. It felt like I'd lost something I never had, like chances and hope. It was fucking irrational.

I crossed my arms over my chest to hide my fisted hands, trying to will away the negative emotions that constantly threatened to consume me, but it was useless. My anger always seemed to own me, and something I struggled the most to control.

"Aw, looks like our vampire boy found a lover," I said, inwardly wincing when I followed it up with a slur. What the fuck did that make me? Some internalized homophobe, that's what. That realization wasn't enough to stop me because I wanted him to fucking hurt. Someone needed to suffer like I suffered.

Disappointment flashed through his pretty eyes, gutting me before I hardened myself.

"Who's your new girlfriend, Dil?" I asked, because I couldn't shut the fuck up, as my friends laughed. Friends . What a joke.

"Fuck off, Darren. Come on, Cade, let's go."

Typical Dillon, taking the high road.

But the other boy refused to back down. He stood in front of me, dark golden curls falling in his face. He was so sweet-looking, and I hated him for daring to touch Dillon.

"Who's this asshole, Dil?" Cade asked, not backing away because he was too innocent to sense the looming danger.

"That's Darren and his fucking posse. Let's just go. They're not worth it."

Dillon tried to tug Cade away, but he refused to move, never taking his eyes off me, and I was too focused on Dillon.

"I asked you a question, vampire boy. Who's your girlfriend?"

Cade folded his arms and tried to stand taller, but there was no way this boy could defend himself against me. He was so short and scrawny.

"I'm his stepbrother," Cade said. "Not his girlfriend, dickhead."

When David and Angus shoved fingers in their mouths and pretended to gag, I followed along—mostly to save face around them, and my need to hurt something overrode my want to stop this derailment. Everything was always denied to me: love, kindness, respect, affection… touch, even something as simple as holding hands or a hug from my own fucking mother.

All I had was my brain and brawn, and even my brain refused to work when I let the negative emotions own me .

I snorted, continuing to play along. "Gross. Your girlfriend is also your fucking brother? I knew you were sick, Dil, but this is disgusting even for you."

"Fuck off, Wilson. Cade is just my brother. Leave us alone."

Cade stood closer to me and rambled on about being brothers and holding hands or some shit, but I wasn't listening, solely focused on Dillon.

"I know what I saw."

"I saw it, too, Darren," David said while Angus just nodded.

"You saw nothing, pervert," Cade snapped.

My head snapped toward him. "What did you just call me?"

Now I was focusing on the smaller boy, letting my anger fester, relishing in it while my rational brain was waving red flags to shut the fuck up. It was better than despair and the sudden sense of irrational loneliness that hit me. Not from not having a boyfriend or a girlfriend, but from family and friendship… fucking normalcy.

"Cade, come on." Dillon tried tugging on his brother again, but he still wouldn't budge.

"I said you're a pervert. Or are you a closet gay, Darren? Whoops, I mean Darlene ? Is that why you think we're together?"

My face fucking burned, and my fists dropped to their sides, knuckles cracking, nails digging into my palms.

Did Cade see it? Did he know? How?

"The fuck?" I asked.

Hurt, hurt, hurt .

That was all that ran through my head. I had to hurt him to shut him the hell up. No one could discover my truth.

For the second time today, I unleashed my anger on someone's face. Cade stumbled back, holding his cheek and nose as Dillion rushed to his side.

But once I did it, I regretted it instantly .

I was turning into my father, reacting violently when pissed off. First, it was punching him , and now it was this boy for calling me out on my shit, trying to be brave.

My eyes burned, and I wanted to run and keep running until Loudoun County was far behind me. To run where I didn't know anyone, and they didn't know me. Somewhere, anywhere, I could just start my life over.

But I stood my ground because I couldn't let David and Angus see my weaknesses. I couldn't back down now.

But Dillon wasn't having it. His fist came out of nowhere and slammed home into my face. I saw stars and then blackness for a moment before the pain came. My eyes watered as I wiped the blood away with my hand.

I hadn't expected him to react violently, so I hadn't been ready for the blow. And I deserved it. I fucking deserved it.

"Listen up, Darren. I know how much you love football, and I'm going to be on the team this year. If you hurt him again, the coach is going to learn about it. I know for a fact that the coach doesn't tolerate bullying, and he'll ban you from playing."

That got my attention. Coaches never put up with bullying on the team. That hadn't stopped me before, and most kids were too afraid of me to say something. But this time, Dillon gave me the perfect excuse to back down while saving face. And I needed to back down before things escalated to the point of no return.

Regardless, I still wanted him to hurt. What made all this worse was that I was even more attracted to him for being so strong. He had an inner strength and confidence that I lacked and craved.

We sparred back and forth with hateful words before I left, my friends following behind me.

Once he was out of sight, I could breathe again, and clarity came back. But that didn't stop my heart from racing.

I couldn't live this way anymore .

This had to stop.

Punching Dad today, while justified, would only push me to turn into him.

If I kept allowing my anger and jealousy to control me, I could lose everything before I even began.

Just because I couldn't have Dillon didn't give me the right to be a nut job.

I wasn't my fucking father.

Right ?

I stood there and rubbed my face, growling into my bloodied hands, disgusted with myself.

Someone suddenly clapped my back and laughed. David. God, I needed to get away from them. "That was awesome. I loved how you hammer-fisted that kid's face, man."

Angus removed my hands, looked at my nose, and shrugged. "You'll live."

"I can't do this," I finally said, looking at the two fucking losers.

David's eyes narrowed. "Do what."

I waved my hand back and forth between us. "This."

Angus and David shook their heads, looking confused.

"This!!!"

My life would go nowhere if I didn't find a way to control myself.

I left them behind to walk home. It was several miles away, but I had to get out of there and away from them.

No more.

I couldn't turn into him .

Who are you kidding? You already are.

No, I still had a chance. I couldn't give up.

Make good grades. Play your best at football. Then get the hell out of here.

Now, I just had to find a way to separate myself from David and Angus.