My family.
My stupid, perfect family.
There was me, my brother, and my perfect parents. Harry was the model son, grade A student, home before curfew, simple love life. I wasn't an exception to this white-picket-fence family, never once scoring below an A in my exams. High school wasn't difficult at first for me, I was well liked and had a small but nice group of friends. I didn't used to think my life was controlled. I didn't even think that it was all planned out for me, by my family, my friends.
I loved my life, my small job in the quaint café on the corner of Berkley Street. I loved my co-workers, my boss, and the kind customers.
I lived in an extremely small town, in the very corner of Florida. The summers were nice, the winters were awful. The town was filled with small-minded people, who all shared the same, medieval beliefs.
Being brought up around those beliefs was almost traumatic, being told day after day who I couldn't be, and that who I wanted to be wasn't acceptable. There was always unsolved murders in our small, coastal town. Drownings, stabbings, shooting, lynching's. The main theme that linked them all was that these people were innocent, to everyone but the people who did the killings and my whole town of course. Being gay, an African American, or having a non- American accent, or not speaking English put you as a target.
It definitely was traumatic.
No doubt about it.
I was the only one it seemed who always put two and two together, the murders and the conditions. It was always the people who were a minority in society. Nobody seemed suspicious.
Nobody.
But me.
Our town was infamous for the KKK, as the founding group originated from our very simple town; I can't say I'm proud of it. With all that said, everyone obviously knew who was taking these innocent lives, in secret, but in public it was never addressed. Nobody else seemed to care. Why didn't they care? They should care.
I had tried to bring it up, just to a few people. Usually, I was told to keep my mouth shut, and the subject was changed. I had grown bored with the shocked faces when I brought it up at family dinners, now I keep quiet.
Mostly.
There was a dinner a couple weeks back, a very fancy one, the type with the nice cutlery out. I had dressed in my best dress, and my family in their best outfits. When Grandad comes to town, it's usually like that. I liked Grandpa Joe when I was younger, but now I can't bear to be in the same room as him. I knew he was racist, homophobic, sexist, transphobic, from a young-ish age, but I never saw how deep that unnecessary hatred ran. I'm ashamed to say I'm related to that person.
"Have you seen the local news today Joe?" My mother scowled at me.
"Yes. What about it?" He asked with a mouthful of food in his mouth.
"There was a recent murder, just found last night. I just thought the conditions of it were suspicious" My mother's fork dropped onto her empty plate in shock. I felt everyone's eyes penetrate my skin; their icy glares made me shiver.
"Nothing was wrong with the murder, was there?"
"Well...yes. Look at who was murdered, it's wrong, you see that, don't you?" I pleaded with the rest of my family.
"Just eat your food" My mother told me, I looked over at my dad, his disappointed eyes refusing to meet my desperate ones.
"No, it's wrong”.
"Stop thinking about it if you know what's good for you. You aren't one of them, are you?" My eyes threatened to release the tears they were holding. At that point, I knew I needed to leave that town and never come back.
If I knew what was good for me.364Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7rkwz84gRV
