Home Again

by Angelique Voisen

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2018 Angelique Voisen

  ISBN: 978-1-77339-565-4

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Stephanie Balistreri

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To my readers, I hope you like Zack and Seth’s story as much as I loved writing it.

  HOME AGAIN

  Angelique Voisen

  Copyright © 2018

  Chapter One

  Ten Years Ago

  Zack Cruz pretended to be interested in his phone but the glimpses he sent Seth’s way must have caught the other boy’s attention. Vivid green eyes met his for a second, before Seth looked at his dirty sneakers again. The door to the guidance counselor’s opened, a student exited and another entered.

  Once it was only the two of them left, he took the empty seat next to Seth. Seth always had a special way of becoming still. It was as if he thought acting like a statue would make the bullies and haters go away. Being scrawny and wearing secondhand clothes also made the guy an easy target.

  Their positions could be reversed. Seth lived in an actual house. Other students called Zack trailer trash, but never to his face. He’d always been a big fucker and he started training, keeping in shape thanks to survival instinct. Zack made a promise to himself that he’d never let his asshole father use him as a punching bag ever again.

  Seth flipped opened one notebook. Zack didn’t miss the red paint on the front. More red peered from inside Seth’s battered backpack. No doubt a few boys who thought themselves clever decided to deface Seth’s stuff again. Zack cracked his scarred knuckles in anticipation. He hadn’t had a decent fight in ages, mostly because everyone in school was terrified of him, even the jocks. Everyone save Seth.

  Seth scribbled quickly on one clean page of the notebook and flipped it up.

  “Leave me alone,” Zack read out loud, then smirked. “You think it’d be that easy?”

  Seth furiously wrote on the other page.

  “Fuck yourself.”

  That made him laugh. “Already did that this morning.”

  Seth blushed.

  Cute, Zack thought.

  “How long has it been now?” Zack asked.

  No one, not the teachers or Mr. Holden, the guidance counselor, could figure out why Seth stopped talking since senior year started. Most of them had given up too, because what did it matter if Seth kept his grades up?

  Graduation was close. Seth wouldn’t be the school’s problem anymore. During one of Seth’s sessions with Mr. Holden, he’d pressed his ear against the door, unsurprised to hear nothing but silence.

  Maybe Mr. Holden wrote Seth off as a lost cause too, but Zack would never do that.

  “How're things at home?” Zack asked.

  When they first met in the waiting area of the guidance counselor’s office two years ago, talking to Seth was similar to having a conversation with a wall. Until Zack did a little show-and-tell. Zack lifted up his sleeves to show the purple, black and blue as if to say, look, we’re the same, you and I.

  Seth tugged at the loose sleeves of his hoodie, a reflex action Zack noticed he always resorted to.

  “That bad, huh?” Zack reached forward.

  Seth began to move away but Zack was quicker. In seconds, he shoved one sleeve up, expecting more or less the same, but he swore. Not many would recognize the twin perfect circles on the inside of Seth’s sleeve, but he did. Seth punched him. Zack barely felt the blow but he released Seth.

  Zack clenched his jaw. A red haze clouded his mind and he hadn’t been aware of grinding his teeth until Seth punched him again. He blinked. Seth picked up his notebook and pen again.

  Why do you keep bothering me?

  “Because I’m your only friend?”

  Seth glared at him, then wrote again.

  I don’t have friends, neither do you.

  Zack clutched at his heart and pretended to look hurt as if discovering those fucking cigarette burns didn’t matter. No one cared about guys like him and Seth. Seth wasn’t that good an actor.

  Everyone got sloppy or had bad days. One way or another, some student or teacher would have seen the bruises, the fading black eye, the limp. When evil stared one point-blank in the face, people have a tendency to laugh it off and call it a figment of the imagination.

  Wave a fucking magic wand and the horrible thing disappears.

  Personal experience taught Zack long ago that the heroes in the comic books he used to worship didn’t exist. People made their own choices. Anger at Seth’s stepfather continued to be a living poison, slowly eating at him, even the good parts until there was nothing left.

  The door opened. How much time had passed?

  Seth shoved his pen and notebook in his bag. Zack knew that meant the end of their conversation but Seth paused by the door, troubled look on his face. Then Seth strode to him, fisted his shirt and pressed his lips to ear. A shiver crawled down his spine.

  For some unexplainable reason, his heart started to race. Until Zack met Seth, he didn’t know he was gay. He’d banged a few girls, bitches who only wanted him because of his bad boy persona. To them, he’d been a flavor of the week, exciting to fuck with, but not good enough for anything else. Zack always felt dirty after. Being with Seth, though, felt like he’d been transported away from the ugly reality he hated.

  Seth made his palms sweat, his heart hammer. Sometimes being around Seth made his chest constrict. He kept envisioning how Seth would react if one day he tipped Seth’s chin and slanted his mouth over Seth’s for a kiss. That way, he’d make them both forget about their problems.

  Too bad when it came to Seth, Zack was a coward.

  Seth’s stepfather, Roy, though, was a problem Zack needed to eliminate.

  Roy didn’t just reduce Seth to a punching bag, he’d stolen Seth’s voice too. What Zack would give for Seth to yell at him again, to fling curses at him, but during rare moments, Seth could be a softie too.

  When it comes to you, I don’t know why I act different. Those had been the last real words Seth ever said to him.

  Less than ten minutes later, the door opened and Seth emerged.

  “Seth,” he called out.

  Zack thought Seth would ignore him again, but the other boy looked at him.

  He said, “If the silence becomes too unbearable, then scream your fucking lungs out until it hurts to breathe. I’ll come running to you.”

  Chapter Two

  Seth didn’t want to ever feel this helpless again.

  No matter how many times he said that mantra to himself, nothing changed. Unlike Zack, Seth was a coward who couldn’t stand up for himself. Not that he didn’t make an effort to try. He did, but lashing out and defending himself against the blows and verbal abuse, only made things worse.

  Seth knew that from personal experience. So he could only hide, pretend he had the power of invisibility. Not everyone could settle fights with fists. Leaning against the wall of his closet, he closed his eyes, remembering the time Zack saved him from a group of bullies at school.

  No matter the circumstances, at home or school, it seemed like someone painted a target on Seth’s back. Lunchtime was about to end and Travis Miller and his jock pals cornered him against his own locker, one meaty fist in his
shirt, another at his battered face. Zack took one look and the bastard didn’t hesitate, didn’t call for help or think about the odds of three against one.

  Zack barreled right at Travis, murder in his eyes.

  Even in the dark, with nothing but the company of his clothes tickling his face and his dirty sneakers by his side, Seth smiled. That was so like Zack, fearless, reckless, his.

  Where that last line of thought came from, he didn’t know but here, alone and trapped in his own closet, he could afford to dream. To fantasize. No one, not Roy, not Travis and his friends, could steal away the images he kept secret in his mind.

  In a perfect world, he’d walk the school hallways brazenly with Zack without fear of judgment, of being beaten up for being who he was. Then reality came crashing down when he recalled how he treated Zack earlier. Seth pulled his knees to his chest.

  He never meant to tell Zack those words. When backed against a corner, Seth said horrible things. Jesus. He didn’t even have the courage to open his mouth anymore so he had to rely on a little pad of paper and pen. Seth touched his lips. Why would no sound come out?

  Because his cries and pleading only empowered Roy, only excited the fucker further. Staying quiet during their pummeling sessions gave him some way of fighting back. At least that had been the rationale behind his actions. Instead, it backfired on Seth.

  Now, he could no longer talk to the one person in the world who mattered to him.

  Goose bumps appeared on his arms when he realized the house seemed eerily silent now. His heart hammered painfully against his chest. Fear crawled its way from his insides, ready to consume the rest of him.

  Usually, Roy never shut the TV off, even when his mother came home. Too tired from her shift at the diner, she’d just retreat to the bedroom she shared with Roy, barely sparing Seth a glance. Sometimes, Seth wondered if she forgot she had a son at all. On the worst nights, he’d hate her too. For working too much, for closing a blind eye to whatever happened in her own home.

  Then he remembered she brought all the bacon home and feel equally guilty. Why couldn’t Roy get his fat ass off the living room couch and find a job? Why did she let Roy do as he pleased?

  Seth didn’t ponder on the questions anymore. He heard a bang from downstairs, followed by a spew of curses. Dread filled the pit of his stomach. He edged backward but his back only hit the wall.

  “Where the hell are you hiding this time, you little fuck?” hollered Roy. The bastard was close, too close to his door.

  Seth breathed hard and told himself not to make any noise. He made himself go still, frozen to prevent attracting Roy’s attention.

  Why do you keep going back to that fucking house every single day? Zack asked him once. Roy’s going to kill you sooner or later.

  Why do you care? Besides, where would I go? I haven’t graduated from high school and I don’t have any savings in the bank. Everything I earn from my part-time job at the gas station goes to the household expenses.

  That’s what adults are for, Seth. They should be taking care of that shit and I’ll come with you. Pick a location, anywhere but this shit town. I’ll follow you.

  Now more than ever, he wished he took Zack up on his offer but that had been months ago before he lost his voice. He consciously rubbed at his wrist, which sported Roy’s new handiwork. In honest truth, it hurt only for a little bit, but unlike the bruises, it wouldn’t fade with time. The worst thing was Seth had to stare at it for the rest of his life.

  His bedroom door banged open.

  “Are you here, you good-for-nothing piece of shit?” Roy was more drunk than usual.

  Without realizing it, Seth began to shake. Last night, right after the cigarette incident, he had a nightmare about Roy putting out a hundred cigs on his body, making him unrecognizable, turning him into more of a freak than he already was. Would Zack still like him, if his entire body bore the handiwork of some monster’s cruelty?

  Enough already.

  Seth couldn’t stand a second longer of being in this house, of constantly living in fear his entire life. Something vital in him broke. Zack’s words in the guidance councilor’s office gave him the strength he needed to get on his feet instead of continuing to cower in fear.

  Scream your fucking lungs out until it hurts to breathe. I’ll come running to you.

  Adrenaline surged through his entire system like he was high, capable of doing anything.

  Seth shoved the door opened, hearing a groan as wood knocked against Roy’s thick skull. Good.

  “You.” Roy hissed, with narrowed, bloodshot eyes.

  The bastard made a swipe for him but Seth was faster, smaller. He slipped past Roy’s grasp and made it to his door. Faster, he told himself. Freedom lay only a few meters from him. Screw this town and his dysfunctional family. Both Zack and him were eighteen, adults. Who needed a high school diploma anyway?

  Families are supposed to have your back.

  A fist grabbed the shirt on his back. Fear nearly choked him, stopped him, but he kept thinking of Zack’s strength, how Zack spat at whatever obstacle that lay in his path. Seth wanted to be just like Zack, even for a moment, even for one night. He twisted out of Roy’s hold and bolted down the stairs. The front door stared back at him, beckoning, welcoming.

  Zack, I’m sorry it took so long for me to decide. I’m coming, so wait for me.

  Seth opened his mouth, but no words came out, only a guttural animal sound. Something stirred inside of him, like a beast waking for the first time after slumbering for a very long time. Maybe it was the new Seth, waiting to be reborn. Seth grasped the doorknob, turned it, only to feel a fist slamming into his ribs, knocking the air out of his lungs.

  ****

  Zack knew something bad would go down tonight at Seth’s house. He didn’t know why he thought that, but it wouldn’t hurt to drive up to Seth’s neighborhood. Make sure nothing went wrong. Before he left his room, he searched for something, a weapon he could use.

  He laughed softly to himself. What was he planning? For crying out loud, Zack wasn’t in some kind of TV show or movie. This was real life. Did he have it in him to actually do something to Roy? He certainly thought of it, back in the guidance counselor’s office.

  Zack chewed on that thought for a little bit more, his gaze lingering on the baseball bat he kept under the bed for his own protection. His asshole father bought him that during a time when his dad hadn’t decided to make whiskey his new best friend. Those years when his father had been sober seemed like a passing dream now, like someone else’s memory.

  Fuck. He was wasting time. A strange kind of urgency filled him as he left his room and entered the darkened living room. His father’s loud snores grated on his nerves. A quick check told him the old man had passed out again, still clutching at a whiskey bottle.

  Nothing changed, huh?

  Zack walked up to the bastard who made his life miserable until Zack learned to throw his own punches and they decided to keep on their own side of the fence. He shoved a hand into the pocket of his father’s jeans. The old man didn’t even stir as he fished out the keys to the old pickup.

  He passed by a shelf that used to contain old photographs back when they’d been a happy little family. Now, it contained shattered glass and ripped photos. One particular ruined photo always caught his attention, that of the three of them, father, mother, and son, smiling at the photographer. They were at the beach, their faces tanned, their smiles sickeningly oblivious. Only his mother’s face remained intact in this one.

  Take care of each other, had been her dying wish before cancer took her.

  Zack tried, hadn’t he? Too bad it didn't work. Zack learned to move on when things turned too impossible. He could certainly use a bit of liquid courage to pull off what he intended. Zack made a quick stop to the kitchen and yanked open the fridge. Unopened beer cans lined every shelf. Unsurprised, Zack took the nearest. Still warm. He tried another and didn’t know what to expect.

  He let o
ut a huff of indignation. Of course, the old man had finished all the cold ones. Settling for slightly chilled, he opened one and took one huge gulp, then another. Back when Seth hadn’t lost his voice, Seth called him fearless while looking at him like he was some kind of superhero came to life.

  Aren’t you scared of anything or anyone? Seth had asked, marvel in his voice.

  Nah, I just hide it better than anyone else, he’d answer. Seth didn’t look like he believed him.

  Well, right now, Zack was downright terrified. So he took another.

  Dumping the cans in the trash, he headed to the garage and got into the truck. Zack gagged at the nauseating overwhelming smell of vomit, beer, and cigarette smoke.

  Just like his good old dad to keep his ride like this. Lowering the windows and letting some air in helped some, but not much. It had to do. Zack maneuvered the truck out of the garage. Once out of the street, he sped up, heading right to Seth’s neighborhood.

  He reached Seth’s street within fifteen minutes. Zack parked the truck two houses from Seth’s, grabbed his phone and texted Seth if everything was all right. No response. That wasn’t new. Seth had been ignoring him for the better part of the year. Other sensible guys would have given up, but not Zack.

  Zack swore no matter what, he’d be there for Seth. Hell, if Seth continued remaining mad at him until graduation, Zack decided to finally tell Seth how he truly felt, bare his heart open and see how Seth would react. Seth’s rejection would cut worse than any knife, but at least he said his piece.

  He leaned forward, gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. What was he waiting for? Hell, it might all be in his mind that Seth was in some kind of serious danger. Zack once dragged Seth to the local police station, only to find out Roy was good friends with the sheriff.