I slammed the locker room door behind me, frustrated that someone as beaten as Arnold had beaten me at basketball. Mad with rage, I began pounding my fists against the hard steel of a locker. The sound of my punches and curses was the only sound that filled the locker room, until my displeased team poured in. I had to leave. I had to escape. I had to walk home. Getting on the bus with all those losers from the REZ would be humiliating. Plus, that drunk bastard I called dad was probably waiting for me. As I was walking along the highway, I noticed a stretch of road with no lights. It was dark as far as the eye could see and was the perfect place to be robbed and beaten to death. If I had disappeared, no one would have missed me. That old bastard would probably smile when he heard the news. “WHY NOT DO IT “YOU'VE ALREADY FINISHED ME,” I screamed. I wanted, so bad, for someone to come out of the darkness and put me out of misery, but life isn't fair because I'm back home. The TV was playing loudly. old reruns as my father sat, passed out, in his little piece of heaven I tried to sneak past him, but the floor was littered with empty beer cans to warn him of my attempt. “Boy… I heard your little friend hitting you,” he said. And then he got up from his chair and shouted, “YOU HEAR ME BOY!” I ran to my room and cowered under the sheets. The sound of the heavy buckle of a belt started hitting the floor and with every stumbling step that bastard took towards me, the sound got louder and louder and louder I guess that bastard got tired of hurting his hand while he was drinking, while he was hitting me there face. I would like him to pass out drunk before he gets to me. I would like to pass out if he gets to me. The sheets were torn from me and it flew into the middle of the paper…so beautiful I wanted to stay here in the woods forever. But I'm not strong. I hide my scars and Jr shows his like war paint He is a true nomad who will eventually escape from this place of death. Reaching into my pockets, I grabbed the shredded remains of Jr.'s gift. And with a great gust of wind they flew away and began dancing in the warm sunlight. Slowly sailing beyond the borders of the Rez and to the more remote places Jr would travel. I could never tell him my feelings. I could never tell him what he meant to me. I could never tell him that I am in love with him. Having Jr stay because of me would be more painful than all these fears about my body. I'll have to wait for the opportunity to bury the hatchet with that little shit head. Besides, I'm sure my secret is safe. That drunk bastard wouldn't want anyone to know he has a fagot for a son.