A Bad Day

[AtomicWaffle†]

((Continued from Of Starbucks and Men))

Fuck!

Steven Hunt briskly strode through the parking garage, cursing and spouting various expletives into the open parking garage, oblivious to any presence other than his own. Clearly irritated, he paused for a moment, boiling over with rage in the middle of the garage, before proceeding to break out in a cry of sheer, unadulterated anger and kicking a trash can across the pavement. It's contents littered the ground before him, and the acrid smell of garbage slowly began to permeate the air. A rotten apple was crushed under his feet as he continued to prowl the dull parking garage.

Steven's extended family was fairly limited. The cousins he didn't really know well on one side, the cousins he knew TOO well on the other. The one side, the one he didn't really know well, were fairly relaxed people. Well-behaved folks who he could spend an evening with and get along with well enough, but he didn't really have too much in common with them and never really saw them much, as they lived back in Canada. The other side was a bit... different. They seemed pretty nice on the outside, and were very hospitable. Both his Aunt and Uncle were very nice people, and Steven enjoyed being around them. Their son, his cousin Jacob, was a really neat guy who Steven would consider probably one of his best friends.

They were, however, quite religious. Quite is perhaps not the right word.... extremely would be more appropriate. They were fundamentally Christian, straight out of the Bible Belt. This didn't bother Steven much at all, and it never usually came up during his visits with them. Of course, there was that one time that they witnessed a gay couple kissing on TV, which led Steven's uncle to go into a half-hour rant about how homosexuality was against all that is holy, made even worse when everyone else seemed to chime in to appease him. It was at that point they decided that they would try to keep Steven's sexuality a secret from them, for their own sake.

It was therefore bound to happen that at some point, they would find out. That happened to be now. Steven's mother had been talking about Steven, and happened to mention a particularly strange ex-boyfriend of his. This led to yet another rant from Steven's uncle, followed by offers to attempt to "cure" him of his "sinful ways" among other things. Suffice to say his extended family was fractured and he had probably lost a good friend in Jacob.

"Fucking crazy-fundie idiots... i've been gay the whole fucking time they've known me, and now they turn on me like this? Shiit..."

As he was leaving the Starbucks, Steven's mother had called him and told him what had transpired. She had attempted to come to Steven's defense, but left quickly after they seemed to not be listening to anything she'd had to say.

" 'Things are going to get difficult for a while...' No shit..."

Oh, and better yet... they only lived a few blocks away in St. Paul. And they were supposed to come over Tommorow for dinner. Fun.

Steven continued to walk further through the parking garage. Anger wasn't something he dealt with easily, an although he tried to maintain a somewhat calm demeanor, sometimes he just lost it. He learned a few years back, the best thing to do was to simply get away from everyone and everything for a little while. He brushed his hair out of his eyes and noticed a few small flecks of broken-down concrete, probably having fallen from one of the walls when he'd brushed against them earlier. Steven pulled a black toque from the inner pocket of his jacket and put it on, noting the colder air of the garage.

If they can't tolerate a small facet of his personality and are going to ostracize him for it, that's their problem. He wasn't going to let other people's hate affect his happiness at all. It was still a fucking shame that they had to be that way though... An even greater shame that he had to end up gay, and cause all of this in the first place.

*sigh*

Steven stopped in his tracks, hearing voices and footsteps up ahead. The parking garage was a bit of a shady place, and all sorts of weirdos came down here... This time, it seemed like three black guys. Oh joy. Steven wasn't racist, being part of an oppressed minority himself and being reminded sharply of other's prejudices he wasn't inclined to racially profile... Still, the sight of three black guys walking quickly towards him, laughing to each other and remarking that the pasty white guy ahead of him looked like a faggot wasn't exactly making him comfortable. He looked around, and walked back in the direction he'd came from. One of them decided to call out to him.

"Yo, kid!"

"Kid?" Fuck off, i'm several years older than you....

Steven ignored them, and kept walking. He picked up the pace slightly.

"Hey, i'm talkin' to you!"

I don't give a shit, you goddamn delinquent.

He still kept silent. Suddenly the voices seemed quite, quite close. One of the black guys walked in front of him, blocking his path.

"Hey man, we just wanna talk for a second."

Steven looked at the guy. Short hair, generic features, an arrogant sneer across his face. Urgh. The other two came up from behind Steven. People had tried to do this before. They were just trying to intimidate him, and he wasn't about to take any of their stupid shit today.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"Ooh shiiit, this guy looks pretty pissed! Watch out man, he looks like he'd rip your fuckin' head off...."

Oh you're so funny....

"Chill man, we ain't gonna hurt'ya... We just want some cash is all..."

Steven looked into the man's eyes. What a fucking idiot... How does someone get this stupid that THIS is what they do for fun? In the back of his mind, he was a bit frightened that these guys were actually serious... he doubted it. He quietly responded...

"Yeah, and I want a good fuck. Can't always get what you want."

"Naw, see... we want your cash... I heard some jingling in your pocket, got any change on you?

Oh, you're clever too! How fucking adorable!

Steven's better judgement was so clouded by rage at this point that the following remarks, though incredibly insulting and in hindsight quite sharp, were clearly not well thought out.

"Oh, I see! You're so fucking poor and destitute that you've got to ask me, the random white guy in a parking garage, for some money to feed your bastard kids! D'aww, I feel so bad for you, and oh-so terrible that I've fed a system that just keeps you fine folks down!"

Steven's thoughts were interrupted by a sharp blow to the gut. Then another. And another. And another. The world seemed to phase out and the only thing that seemed to now occupy his reality were the punches and kicks that the three boys rained down on him. Though it seemed to end fairly quickly, the pain still lingered.

When he faded back into reality once more, he saw that he was laying on the ground in an unfinished corner of the garage, covered in dust and debris. Pushing himself off of the ground, he noticed his hands were red, and upon further inspection, blood was running from his mouth and nose. An immense feeling of fear and hate overcame him. Tears began to fall as he broke down, battered and beaten, on the concrete floor of the garage.

... did that just happen?

"Hah... look at that little bitch."

The three guys were standing behind him, happy that they'd successfully beaten up the gay guy with virtually no fighting experience whatsoever. They laughed some more, then muttered to themselves and started walking away.

"S'what happens when you fuck with us, bitch!"

Steven felt around in his pockets. His phone, his wallet, and his iPod were all gone. And his watch. The fifty-year-old pocketwatch that he kept on him as a novelty was fucking gone. This wasn't right. Steven wasn't somebody to just let people run him down, he'd told himself he wasn't going to let that happen. Now, this. Fuck.

Those feelings of self-loathing and fear quickly turned back to anger and barely contained rage once more, and Steven got off the ground completely, picking up a loose piece of iron rebar on the way. Steven ran towards the men attempting to leave the parking garage. Blood dripped onto his collar as he ran, and left little drops behind him on the way. He reached the men, and tapped one of them on the shoulder. Steven hastily cleared his throat of the phlegm and blood that now occupied it, spitting it out on the floor.

"Give me back my stuff."

"What stuff?"

"You took my wallet, my phone, and my iPod. Give it back."

"No. What the fuck are you going to do about it?"

Steven knew exactly what he was going to do about it, and started before the man could even finish his sentence. Swinging as hard as he knew how, he began to assault the first one with the iron rebar, then hit the second in the jaw, and simply punched the third one in the face. The rebar vibrated in his hands with each strike, and caused him no small deal of pain, not to mention that his knuckles had completely ripped open upon striking the third man in the face. By the time he was finished, he'd caused even more damage to himself, though it paled to their injuries. His vision was cloudy, and he felt like he was swimming in his consciousness, but he managed to sift through their pockets and grab his phone, wallet, and iPod... and all the cash they'd had on them. Four hundred dollars.... They'd had four hundred dollars on them and they beat the everloving shit out of Steven for.... sixty. He stared at the men writhing on the floor of the parking garage, then threw the rebar into a corner and ran out of the garage.

Shit... what the fuck did I just do?


---

Steven stumbled out of the taxi and into his house... he barely found the door, and could feel a bruise forming under his eye. Luckily, his parents were out. It seemed to be hours before he could limp into his bedroom and close the door. He could only stare at the empty, silent room. Oh, good.... it was tidy for once... it looked like his mother had gone in and cleaned it again. He quivered.

"Urgh...."

He could feel his knees buckle. The strength required to keep him standing seemed to just leak out of him. A dull, blunt pain snaked through his thighs as his knees hit the ground first, followed by the rest of him. He cried out in pain. The world seemed to close in around him. He curled up on the hardwood floor and just sobbed. Every terrible feeling he'd ever experienced seemed to come rushing back to him, converging upon him. He layed in a pool of his own blood and tears.

What do I do now? I just hurt a few people... badly. They deserved it... but that doesn't make me feel any better. All because I couldn't keep my mouth shut, keep myself in line, and just pay those guys... There's standing up for myself, then there's just me being a dumbfuck. I had to go and throw a shit-fit because of my bigoted Aunt and Uncle found out that I like guys instead of girls, like a good Christian boy, then attract the attention of some wannabe-gangsters who beat me up because I talked shit to them. Now I've got to explain the bruises... Fuck this shit, i'll just tell Mom and Dad I fell down the stairs at school or some shit.... they went for the gut mostly anyways.... Oh.... fuck my life.

After half an hour of laying on the ground, Steven picked himself up, and dragged himself into the shower, pulling off his clothes and tossing them in a laundry basket as he did so. His bare, pale chest was covered in about six large bruises. It looked like no serious damage had been caused, luckily. He stepped into the shower and turned on the cold water. His blood, and his troubles, seemed to melt off of him and into the drain.

What a fucking terrible day.

((Steven Hunt continued in Closing In (Open to Public)))