Healing Wounds

Author's note: This story started as a one shot for my creative writing class. I hope you like it.

Gabe walked upstairs with a groan. He couldn't believe he'd actually left that message on his father's cell phone. His father was going to murder him. He would never live to see his high school graduation. He might as well scrap the idea of going to college and becoming a journalist.

He opened the door and walked in silently. All that came now was him waiting, waiting for his parents to come home and then he would have to explain to them why he called. His father would never forgive him. He would shoot him in the head. He really didn't want to deal with another of his father's lectures on how he was destroying and embarrassing the family. He should have just told his mother in private.

She would understand, he knew. She would be find and gentle and ask all the right questions. That was how his mom was. She never got upset about anything. She never even got upset at his dad when he flipped out and yelled at Gabe for no reason. She just did her best to comfort Gabe.

He sighed and sat down on the corner of his bed. He could hardly keep his hands from shaking. He knew there was no way his night was going to end well. His father was way to old fashioned to deal with what he'd tell him when he got home. Gabe tried to hold on to the hopeful thought that he was just being melodramatic and that his father would accept him and everything would be nice and beautiful. He wanted to shoot himself for even trying to believe that. It would never happen.

Gabe heard the front door open and shut and quickly jumped off the bed. He opened his bedroom door and slowly walked down the stairs leading to the entrance of their home.

"Hello Mom, Hello Dad," he called as he walked down the last few steps.

"Hello Sweetie," his mom said smiling at him. "Have a good day?"

"Pretty good," he said stopping in front of her. "What about you guys?"

"The usual."

Gabe nodded and turned to his father who just removed his coat and hung it on the rack beside the door.

"Are we going to stand here talking all day or are you going to let us relax?" his father asked him.

"Right, sorry," Gabe said running his fingers through his short black hair.

He backed away from his parents allowing them room to pass into the living room. His mom gave him an encouraging smile on her way past him. He followed them into the living room and his father looked at him expectantly.

"Well, you told us you had important news, what is it already?"

Gabe swallowed nervously and started chewing on his lip while playing with a rubber band that was on his wrist.

"Are you sure you want to hear it, I mean I'm perfectly okay with not telling you," he said quickly.

"What is it? And please tell me you're here to tell us that your psychologist has finally decided that you don't need counseling anymore."

"I will always need counseling dad, to keep me from hurting my self," Gabe said. "And no, that's not it."

"Load of crap if you ask me," his dad grumbled. "It's just you begging for attention."

"Michael, hush and let him talk," his mom snapped.

Gabe smiled at her. He had always found strength in his mom. She had always been the one he was able to count on when he needed someone. He needed strength more than he needed anything else in the world. He took a deep breath and decided to just say what needed to be said.

"I'm gay."

"What?" his mom said hollowly.

Gabe nodded and looked down at the floor. He refused to look up and see the disappointment that would be showing on their faces. He just knew what his father would do, and he definitely didn't want to see his mother's reaction.

"You're what?" his father thundered and Gabe went from playing with rubber band to snapping it against his wrist. "First you decide to start cutting on yourself and now this? How many times do you plan on doing this to us Gabe?"

"Do you think want I wanted to be gay or something?" Gabe asked him with tears in his eyes. "Do you think I asked for this? I'd do anything to make you proud dad, but I can't hide who I am, not anymore!"

"You've wanted to me make proud huh? You're only seventeen years old and you've let me down countless times! Look at you!" he said indicating the black t-shirt and jeans Gabe had on. "You look like a freak! And stop it with that freaking rubber band. I don't care what your psychologist said it's just as disturbing and embarrassing as the cutting was."

"Michael! Stop it, can't you see your hurting him," his mother cried.

Gabe felt as tears started rolling down his cheeks. He stood there silently staring at the floor snapping the rubber band against his wrist. He hardly noticed as his mom came to stand beside him.

"You disgust me," his father bit out. "Sarah, get your son out of my sight."

Gabe's mom just wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. He returned the hug as he bit back a sob and watched as his father gave them a disgusted look and walked out the room.

"He hates me," he said tearfully. "I didn't want it to end this way mom, and I definitely didn't want to be this way. I really didn't! I'd give anything to be normal again. I just want for you guys to be proud of me. I never wanted his hatred. I just couldn't keep it inside anymore."

"I know honey," his mom stepping back and putting her hand on his cheek. "And I will always be proud of you, no matter what."

Gabe smiled at her and wiped the tears from his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, mom."

"There's nothing to be sorry for," she said. "It's just a shock that your father and I will have to learn to live with."

He felt his heart swell with happiness, and was pretty amazed that he could be so happy after what his father had said.

"Thank you mom," he told her softly.

She smiled at him and he sighed. It had been a long day, and he was ready for it to end. He looked down at his wrist and winced. It was sore and red from him snapping the rubber band against it, and he knew that it would be bruised soon.

"Guess I'm not doing as well with the cutting as I thought I was," he said softly rubbing his wrist to try and soothe the ache.

"It takes time sweetie."

(End chapter)