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“Yeah,” Quin agreed.
I looked at the guys around me and wiped a tear from my eyes. Maybe everything would be alright. Maybe I wasn’t as alone as I thought.
Chapter 3
Kendall
“Ahhhh!” I screamed popping awake.
I looked around. I’m in my bed and it’s morning. Cory is sitting up staring at me. He looks startled.
‘It was just a dream,’ I tell myself. ‘That’s all it was.’
“Evan Carter?” Cory asks me slowly relaxing.
“Evan Carter,” I admit.
“Fuckin’ Evan Carter,” my roommate said making me feel a little better.
I lay back down and tried to calm myself. I couldn’t tell if the nightmares were getting worse but they weren’t getting better.
Evan Carter was the football player who made my high school years hell starting my freshman year. There was something about me he couldn’t stand. I always assumed it was because I was the only out gay kid there. But if I were honest with myself, it wasn’t like I tried to fit in.
I experimented with the color of my hair, wearing makeup, and the type of clothing I wore. Perhaps wearing a dress to school was a little too far. It wasn’t like I was fighting to bring down the patriarchy or anything. I was just having a little fun. I was trying to figure out who I was.
FYI, I’m not a guy who wears dresses or makeup. And it isn’t because Evan Carter would bully me to an inch of my life when I did. It just isn’t my thing.
But, there had to be some point when the football meatheads couldn’t take anymore. Because from a certain point forward, they would shove me every time they passed me in the hallways. I could be eating lunch or sitting quietly in class and my head would jerk forward followed by the sting from their open palm.
They would shove my head into desks, locker doors, and even toilets. The worst part was I could never see them coming. It got to the point where my entire school day would be spent searching rooms for them. When I spotted one, I had to make myself as invisible as possible. If they saw me, they could attack or not. It was always random. But when they decided that today was my hell day, I wasn’t safe anywhere.
And, if it wasn’t the physical abuse, it was the constant teasing. I know there’s nothing wrong with the word ‘sissy’ and a lot of guys wear it as a badge of honor. But, if I hear it one more time, I think I’m gonna crack.
I wouldn’t give in, though. I refused to let their closed-mindedness control my life. I would cry as I got dressed in the morning knowing that what I was putting on would bring about another hell day.
I got to the point where I didn’t even want to wear it. But I did it anyway because… who knows why anymore?
Maybe it was to prove to myself that I wouldn’t succumb to pressure. Maybe I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of thinking they had won. Maybe I was just a glutton for punishment.
Whatever the reason, I did it and I barely had the will to live by the time high school was done. I was so glad to start university and get past all of that. I could dress how I wanted, and I could be my true self. I thought it was the greatest thing ever until the nightmares started.
Granted, they were always there. But now they sharpened and focused around one person, Evan Carter. He was the leader of the bunch.
I still believe that if it wasn’t for that idiot, the rest of them would have left me alone. He was probably a closet case who wished he had the courage to do what I had. Who knows?
But, what I’m sure of is that, in high school, I lost the battles and the war. Not only was I the only one getting his ass kicked on a regular basis, he owned real estate in my head years later. It was such bullshit.
The really sucky part was that until last night, the nightmares seemed like they were beginning to fade. I used to have them up to a couple of times a week. Cory knows all about that. The number of times I had woken him up screaming, it’s a wonder he’s still willing to be my roommate.
It had been two weeks since my screaming fest before last night. I’m pretty sure I know what triggered it. I had kissed a football player. The thought almost made me throw up. Sure, Nero was nothing like Evan Carter or any of his asshole friends, but still.
Football players have made my life a hellish nightmare of epic proportions since I was 14-years-old. They threatened my will to live. I wake up screaming and dripping in sweat because of them. I didn’t want to suck on a football player’s face now.
“You going to class?” Cory asked me not having left his bed.
“Oh fuck!” I exclaimed remembering my early Monday morning class.
My professor had to be a sadist. Who scheduled a core class at 8 am on a Monday? It’s ridiculous. But, if I wanted to become a clinical psychologist, I needed to major in psychology and I had to take it.
