Don’t Believe Them - Leah Parker (inspirational novels .TXT) 📗

away that we could no longer reach each other. It sounds really sappy, but I love him and he’s my dad and he actually wants to make it work between us. I like that.

In the bathroom, I stood in front of the sink, looking into the mirror. I looked over at the toilet and told myself ‘no’ I couldn’t do that to him. I also haven’t taken me meds as they are still at Mickey’s and there was no way in hell I was going to his just to get some pills I can get at the pharmacy. I just kept going over in my head on how I was going to tell them. I don’t want to lose them; he’s the only biological parent I have lost as I already lost my mother. It will be difficult but I will have to tell them sooner or later.

I walked really slowly down the stairs and saw dad cuddling Ally while she was sleeping. It was so nice. I strolled up to them and took Ally away from him so I could have a serious chat. I laid her down in the kitchen, sat on the sofa and held both Mallory and Scott’s hands.

“There is a reason I’m here.” I whispered. They just nodded their heads at me in agreement. “The truth is that I was really badly bullied in Galway. Enough so, I had a knife pulled out at me.” I needed to think about how I was going to say the rest.

“Who is this eejit?” Dad screamed at the top of his lungs, shooting to his feet. I pulled him back down onto the couch otherwise he’d probably kill Ricky. While he is in jail.

“His name is Ricky but because he did that, me and mum went to Dublin where I met this kid called Tucker Smythe-” I tried finishing but Mallory interrupted.

“The kid who died, Scott. Ricky and his friend are the ones who killed him.” Looking at me “We know, babe. You don’t need to tell us the rest. Good boy.” She stumbled into the kitchen with tears falling down her pale face.

I wanted to tell them something else that has been bugging me. I have not long told myself. There was another reason why I was being bullied- I’m gay. I know I had a little thing for Adalyn, but I think that was just a friendly feeling. Nothing serious. I told my mum and she was okay with it and so was Mickey. In fact, they embraced it and I liked that. But I think dad will disown me if he heard the truth. Come on, I moisturise my face, like, three times a day. I wear dickie bows and shirts. Doesn’t that tell you I’m gay? Obviously not.

 

2/10

 

Mallory was up all night and this morning as a few more teeth were coming through in Ally’s mouth. She was crying so bad- Mallory not Ally. Ally is a strong girl. I really want to come out today but Ireland is really religious and I’m frightened I will be disowned and forced to go back to England. That’s not the life I want to live.

Mallory and dad aren’t sending me to school in Belfast in case I get bullied again. It’s a risk we’re willing to take. It’s kind of a good thing that I’m not going to school because if I did and I came out, I would be beaten up more and Mickey still hasn’t taken down the false article about me killing Tucker and I don’t know who and how many people have that or have read it. It’s online and it’s in tabloids so people all over the world could possess it. It’s a death wish.

In all honesty, I would rather stay home and take care of me babby sister than go to school where I could potentially get killed by people who have heard lies about me and hate me. It’s not the best thing, staying off school, because soon enough you’ll forget Pythagoras and chemicals which isn’t good if you’re hoping to get a good job with good pay and a family who cares about you. I have a family who cares about me and that’s why I need to let them know who I am, so they don’t try to get me a girlfriend. I’m pretty sure I’m gay, the thoughts about being straight doesn’t seem right; I can’t picture myself in the future with a wife, I can only picture a husband. And that is better than being someone I’m not- which I’m doing at the moment.

Dad’s at work and Mallory is here doing housework. I can hear her vacuuming the living room. Sweat is dripping down my forehead from my hairline as I approach her and take the plug out of the socket. She looked at me like I was mental, then she saw something bothering me. I sat her down on the sofa, which she had just cleaned, and squeezed the words out of my mouth. “Mallory?” I whispered with a frog in my throat, “I have something I would like to tell you and I want you to love me just as much.” Mallory clutched onto my hands and nodded. “I’m gay” I whispered. Mallory looked taken back a second. It felt as if time had stopped- just like my heart.

“I gathered.” She finally replied. I was surprised she could read my face.

“Really?” I requested. She just plainly nodded her head at me. With our hands together, she dragged me upstairs. Counting the steps on the way up to the bathroom- 14. Crazy to think that but there is. Without my permission, Mallory starts putting concealer and foundation on my face- I looked beautiful and I think this is my new look.

Dad came back and I stepped over to him. He looked up at my face and he was astonished; his son was wearing makeup! That’s not something you see everyday.

“Why are you wearing makeup, Ringo?” Dad asked me. My face got really hot and I started sweating. My palms were soggy and I thought my fingertips were going to prune. I placed my hands on my hips and said:

“Dad, I’m gay. I don’t care what you think about it because it’s who I am, not hat you want me to be.” I looked back down at him and he curled his lips over and nodded his head. He stood up which startled me and pulled me into a huge hug. I wasn’t expecting that. It made me feel glad and safe when he hugged me because I knew he was here to accept me and support my every choice and decisions. That’s what parents are there for. My tears dripped onto dad’s coat and his years dropped onto my hair. I barely felt it because my hair is so huge thanks to Mallory putting hair spray into it. She was so cool about it and so was dad. Even though they’re Irish, they don’t think of me as a burden.

Ever since I moved from Dublin, I haven’t heard how my grandma was doing. I haven’t heard if she’s got worse or better or hurt herself. It’s nerve racking not knowing. Like they say, “fear the unknown” right now, that’s exactly what I’m doing. Dad keeps telling me she’s fine but he doesn’t have any contact with my mum which makes me realise that he’s either lying or simply guessing. I never know which with my dad. He keeps to himself a lot and doesn’t really express his emotions or ever says how he feels. I don’t think he should go through that mainly because if he doesn’t tell us what’s going on, he will only hurt himself by bottling it up inside of him. It’s not right.

I’ve been having to take my medication less often because I haven’t been throwing up- like once a day now- and I’m not under great stress like I was at Mickey’s. At his, i was trying to deal with the fact that my mother hated me and I was in a traumatic situation so I was trying to forget about that. I have been putting on weight though, I’m looking like a human again! I’ve had to go a size up in my skinny jeans and I’ve noticed that my face is becoming more round. It’s brilliant; whatever I’m doing, I have to keep at it. Well, all I am doing is eating and lifting weights. Okay, I’m lying about the lifting bit. I’m just eating and watching daytime television. Boring huh? And if I’m not eating or watching tv, I’m looking after Ally. That’s all I can ask for, a little angel being at my feet wherever I am. She’s learnt to walk now so I have to make sure I close the baby gates if I go upstairs for the toilet or into the kitchen. I could always take her with me but then again, what if I need to carry more than one things? I can’t take her with me unless she walks with me which, knowing her, she wouldn’t do. She’d try climb a chair or something.

One bad part about babysitting is that if they get up to something when you’re not looking, you will get the blame for it and it can be really stressful especially for a teen like me. I’m not even old enough to have kids yet and I’m already looking after one. It’s harder to feed Ally than putting her down to sleep because she hates eating especially for me as she knows she can win me over with cuddles. She’s only 8 months at the moment and she’s already a little con artist, she’s really smart for her age. I have a good feeling that she’s going to be the next mayor of Belfast. If I could take me wee lass wi’ me to school, I would go, but I can’t because of health and safety reasons. If something happens to her, we can sue the school. Plus, most schools around here are catholic so I very much doubt that they will allow a gay student to attend. And even if I did, I would be bullied to suicide. It’s not a good topic to speak about, but it happens. It happens to many people; they say “watch out for the quiet ones” but in all honesty, I’m one of those people. I don’t fit in to any clique, so I’m an outcast. I’m an outed outcast.

 

4/10

 

Ally is 9 months today. We are celebrating by going out for dinner, she’s also on solids so she can eat real food with us. My father came home from the garage last night and he got me a gift. He wasn’t trying to buy me off this time, he was trying to make me feel more accepted by society. I opened the bag and pulled out a hoodie that said “I’m the gay son!” An hoodie for my dad that said “my son is gay” a tee for Mallory and a dress for Ally. It was so sweet that they actually did that for me, I hugged the life out of all of them. They are my family. I don’t care what my biological mum says, my dad is the best!

When I woke up this morning, I found a text on my phone from a certain somebody who I really don’t want contact with- yes, Mickey. It read:

Hey, man. I hope you’re well. Just to let you know I have taken the story down. You can come back to Galway now!

I looked up from my screen with disgust. How could he do something like that then expect me to forgive him in a blink? I’m not forgiving him for what he’s done, he put me through hell. He made me move to Belfast with my dad, in other words, I should be thanking him instead of hating him.