The Lie I Live

This is a story I started typing, dealing with racial harrasment and harrasment concerning one's sexual orintetation. I don't want your opinions on the latter, or the former actually. Not exactly looking for critiques at the moment, either, although if you notice some grammar errors, feel free to point them out.
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The night was cool with only a few foolish lights throughout the town that tried to penetrate the shadows. Snow threatened to fall upon the Minnesota town, but none had yet. The absence of the white powder did not mean that the inhabitants of the town did not go out in jackets, mittens, and boots. It was almost a tradition to go out in such, even without snow, when the month of December came to call. As a cloud passed before the moon, a young man passed by an old coffee shop, his breath coming in quick puffs. The man was dressed in baggy blue shots, but his chest was as bare as the streets at this time of night. He passed a few staggering drunks, simply making his way around them. The man had a destination and it was clear he would not tolerate detours.

A few people, simply sitting outside of their apartments having a pre-bedtime smoke, stared as the half naked teenager ran by, but he paid them no mind. He simply kept on running; keeping his chocolate brown eyes locked ahead, his lips slightly parted as he breathed in and out. Sweat ran down his forehead, despite the cool wind that began to gently caress the downtown area. ???Hey, boy, don???t you know it???s winter???? an old man called, chuckling at his own witty remark.

The black man simply smirked, ???I???m well aware, sir. Have a nice night,??? he mumbled as he ran by. The man continued on. He did not stop until he came to an old blue house on the corner of a four way intersection, located next to the elementary school. The late night jog had cleared his trouble mind and the man leaned against the front door before letting himself in. The house itself was as dark as the sky outside. The only sound was the gentle creak of the white front door as the teenager shut it.

A light flicked on somewhere, ???That you, Fitz???? a woman called cautiously.

???Yes, Mom. I just went on a late night jog,??? the man, called Fitz, replied, wiping his sweaty face with a towel located near the front door. He slipped off his shoes as the light went off. Unlike his friends, whose parents nearly had a heart attack when they snuck out to go jogging late on night, Fitz???s mother didn???t care too much. He supposed his father may, but it wasn???t like Robert Rivers was home often; he worked nights.

Fitz made his way into the kitchen where he flipped on a light and removed a plastic bottle of water from the fridge. It was half empty, but the last one and so Fitz drank eagerly. When he was done, the teenager crept up the stairs into the pink room he shared with his four year old sister, Clair. Most teenagers his age would have complained about having to share a room with their sister, but Fitz didn???t mind. He felt like Clair???s protector- he felt needed and, when he looked at his slumbering sister, clutching her red teddy bear, a wave of peace always washed over Fitz. He smiled before planting a light kiss on his sister???s cheek and then sinking into his bed for a few hours of sleep.


When the sun was still hidden, Mary Lou threw open the door to her son and daughter???s room, ???Get up or ya???ll can get you some cold pancakes,??? she spoke sternly, but her brown eyes twinkled before she turned and left the room to tend to her children???s breakfast.

Fitz rubbed sleep from his eyes before turning over to Clair, who was mumbling to herself as she kicked her legs. The little girl had a ritual for getting up in the early morning; first, she complained about having to do so, while she kicked her legs. Then, she lifted her head, eyes open. Lastly, Clair would leap out of bed like a wildcat and shout, ???What???s for breakfast???? Indeed, the ritual was preformed as it had always been and Fitz followed Clair down the stairs and into the kitchen. The sweet aroma of bacon, pancakes, and real maple syrup caused Fitz???s senses to kick into double time. Mary Lou set two plates at the table with a pitcher of juice and two glasses; one plate had only a single pancake and a peace of bacon while another contained three pancakes, two pieces of bacon, and a fair amount of cheesy eggs.

???Eat up,??? Mary Lou turned back to the stove as Fitz took his place at the table, ???You still got your conferences tonight, Fitz????

???Yeah,??? he replied around a mouthful of eggs.

???Well, we may be a few minutes late. Ronda has been slow getting to work, but we???ll be there, hon,??? Mary Lou assured, turning to give Fitz a smile. She worked at the local dairy store and often struggled to get off work soon enough to go to her son???s activities. The teenager faired well in school, though statistics told him he should be having numerous problems. What, with lacking a father figure and having a mother who had raised him on her own for so long, living in what society considered poverty, before Robert returned and decided to step up and be a man.

Fitz cleaned off his plate and then walked down the carpeted hall and into the small bathroom, which only contained a shower, toilet, and sink. He brushed his teeth while the water ran in the shower, warming up. When he stepped in, Fitz began to sing to himself, songs he didn???t know, and songs that didn???t even have a name or a meaning. He always sung in the shower; no reason for it, really, but sometimes he found Clair sitting outside the door, wrapped in a blanket and humming along to whatever she could recognize. As he rinsed shampoo out of his curly black hair, Fitz sang what he knew of ???Party in the USA???, jut for her.

If any of the boys at school saw him, Fitz knew he???d be teased. He already was, since he didn???t show up in designer clothes and didn???t take much time to socialize outside of Thomas, Jacob, and Joey, all kids on his track team. Mary Lou always told her son not to care, but it was hard, when you wanted nothing more then to fit in. When you wanted nothing more to be liked. Fitz stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist before stepping out of the bathroom; ???Did you like it, Clair???? he smiled down at the little girl, who nodded eagerly, her afro bobbing up and down as her head did.

???Booootiful!??? she sang before slipping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her.

Fitz had to hurry so he could walk to Thomas???s house and get a ride on time; he threw on a pair of well worn jeans, dirty white socks, simple black sneakers, and a black shirt and then threw his bag on, ???Bye, Mom! Bye, Clair!??? he called as he ran down the stairs and out of the house. He hadn???t put a coat on, but by the time Fitz remembered he was halfway to Thomas???s. No need to turn around and have to walk all the way to the high school just because of a foolish coat, which barely kept out the cold half the time anyway.

The Insane; Story

Prologue


Reporters scurried about outside of the hospital, blocked from entering by two burly men. One brave soul shoved a microphone in the face of a particularly cross looking one, ???Do you know what Mr. and Mrs. Cowell plan on naming their son???? he questioned.

Behind his night-colored glasses, the man???s eyes narrowed and he pulled the microphone away from the other adult and tossed it to the side, where it broke as it collided with the concrete parking lot, ???No reporters will enter this building. My partner and I will not tolerate any questions,??? he snarled, sounding slightly robotic, as if he had practiced the words in front of a mirror numerous times.

Inside of the sterile building, a young woman screamed in pain. A large man held onto her hand and worry played in his hazel eyes, ???Carol, please. They???re getting ready. Don???t leave me!??? he pleaded, an edge of panic in his voice. Tears began to roll down the man???s leathery cheeks.

Carol looked at the man, her husband; sweat made her blonde hair cling to her forehead and blood stained the white sheets she lay on, ???R-robert,??? she coughed; exhaustion was quite clear in her voice. A tremor rolled through the woman???s body, ???So sorry,??? she managed to choke out before a nurse pushed Robert aside and the woman was transferred to another bed and rolled out of the room. Face contorted in pain and fear, the man slowly made his way out of the white-walled room and into the waiting room, where he collapsed into a straight-back chair and buried his face in his hands.

For five hours, he sat in that chair, wondering why everything had gone wrong. For five hours, he waited, lost in memories that only made him weaker. ???Cowell,??? a doctor stood in a doorway, holding a clipboard. The man looked up and slowly rose and made his way over to the robed man.

???P-please???she???s fine, right????

The doctor???s eyes darkened, ???I???m so sorry.???

The man???s blue eyes widened and he shook his head, lost in a world of denial as he closed his eyes, ???God damn it!??? he cursed over and over again, though the pain did not ebb away.

???Mr. Cowell, would you like to see your son????

Robert numbly nodded and the doctor led him down a small hallway to a nursery, where he pressed his face against the class and his eyes zoned in on a small, pink infant whose mouth was open in a scream. ???My son,??? he murmured.

???Yes, your son.???

Chapter One:
Robert Cowell Junior


It has never gotten easier. I never got to know her, but there is still pain in my heart. I see what the other kids have. They may lack money, but not even my father can buy me the love of a mother. I knelt beside the elaborate headstone that had been repaired countless times- Father would not allow anything less than perfection for Mother. Just like he only wanted perfection for, and from, me. I set down the bundle of roses I had bought and sat on my butt in the wet grass, staring at the words etched into stone. How could such wimple words tell the story of a person?
Who was I kidding? They can???t. I ran my fingers over the words before standing, ???Goodbye, Mother.??? My voice caught in my throat, but I forced the words out.

I was alone in the cemetery, so I wandered about the long, winding road. People were too damn lazy to walk in, so the road had been added a few years ago. In my opinion, the road tainted the place. The cemetery had been beautiful before, holding the bodies of those we loved. Too much had been destroyed so people didn???t have to exercise- God forbid the possibility of this nation slimming down.

I paused by an old tree; it was obviously dead. The tree???s naked branches swirled into the sky and its trunk was bent funny, as if it had once been forced to shift so it would not live in the shadow of another tree. I leaned against the trunk, sighing. Night was coming upon the town. The dying sun bled into the horizon. To me, though, night was the best part of the day. Especially now, since Father was in the middle of making another movie, he stayed up late at the set. Only the maid and butler were at home and they were too busy cleaning to notice my absence.

It had been easy for me to sneak out earlier after school ended. I laughed at the thought before walking out of the graveyard. Street lamps flicked on all around me so that most of the shadows were lost in the light. The street I walked was lined with houses, but I did not meet a car for five blocks. It was then that Father???s sleek, black vehicle came rushing at me. It stopped a few feet away and I could see Father, his face contorted with rage, through the windshield. For a moment, I considered running from him, but I knew that, when he caught me, he???d simply be in more of a rage.
With great reluctance, I climbed into the car???s leather passenger seat, ???Hello, Father,??? I attempted to sound charming as I put on my seatbelt.

He grumbled before driving forward, ???Don???t pull that innocent crud with me! How dare you sneak out of the house.???
???Why are you home so early, anyway????

???You do not ask the questions, Junior. You answer them,??? Father snarled, glancing over at me for a second, ???Your teacher, Mrs. Hart, called.???

Mrs. Hart, my darling English teacher. We both hated each other, actually, but why had she called father? ???What???d she say????
???You???re failing, for one, and you continuously act out in her class.???

???Maybe,??? I grumbled, narrowing my eyes. Truth be told, I was failing the class, but I certainly didn???t ???continuously act out??? in English. Once a day, I would do something, like throw a wad of paper, but that surely couldn???t be counted as acting out.

???This is unacceptable, Junior.???

???So? I think it is unacceptable for my only parent to be gone almost twenty four seven, but nobody seems to care.???

I had done the equivalent to slapping my father in the face.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel and his face began to turn red, ???You???re grounded!???
???I can handle that.???