A/N: The following chapter mentions hints of domestic abuse, bullying, and homophobia from family members. Reader discretion is strongly advised

Play the song as you read.

Later at lunchtime, I was in the large office with Victor and Pablo, Logan and his uncle, and the female therapists after we finished our lunch. My stomach was in knots, but I needed the food so I could use all of my energy in taking everyone down a trip to Memory Lane. "Are you okay, chico?" Victor asked me as I finished drinking the last of my apple juice and clearing away the remnants of my chicken wrap. "If you're nervous about retelling the night of you being outed, we can wait a while."

I shook my head no, letting one of the cafeteria workers take away my tray before another handed me a freshly-baked cookie. "I need to let all of this out," I told him. "I mean, there's no use in hiding away what might be the ultimate breakthrough or what can set me back further."

"That's true right there," commented Pablo just as I saw the fresh-faced Ms. Whitfield come in with a male orderly escorting her inside. "But at least you got some supporters to help you through."

"Thank you," I replied. "And in case I do have a meltdown, I might need to be taken to isolation to prevent me from hurting others, just to be on the safe side."

The male orderly nodded silently.

"Are you ready, Wendell?" Dr. Sellers asked me, taking out her notes. "Your group therapy session was very enlightening, if not a bit hilarious. You have a lot of gumption calling people out on their actions while accusing you of being flawed. And I can see why you like to read people for filth."

"Wendell does like to call a spade for its worth," Ms. Whitfield piped up, giving me a small smile. "His love for Drag Race taught him well."

"All right, all right," I said. "Enough with the chit-chat, folks. While I'm grateful for the little bit of distraction, I want to let this all out in the open so you all can figure out if I was doing the right thing or not.

With everyone nodding their heads and Dr. Valenzia giving me a thumbs-up sign, I took a minute to "blow bubbles" before I began to dive right in. "Now, dig if you will this picture," I began. "I was coming in after a terrible family dinner and I was having a very bad night. I was dealing with everyone at school accusing me of cheating on my final exams. The World's Worst Father of the Year had placed me on yet another diet of crackers and water just because  I was too... blah. And I still needed to finish working on my essay for English class- the fated eulogy that was due the following day. And oh, yeah. I had been betrayed and outed by the one person who thought I could trust in all of my secrets and would take me far away from here. And after being outed, everyone at that fancy restaurant took out their verbal swords and tore me down before I snapped and pulled a Teresa Giudice with flipping the table and spilling food on everyone. And not just that table, folks. I flipped every table that hosted the families who agreed with my family in their disgust...

"Shameless!"

"An abomination in your family's plan of their American dream!"

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself for trying to seduce poor Corey and try to take him away from Alicia! Have you no shame? Have you no remorse?"

"You disgust me, you fuckup of a brat! This is the reason that I wished I could've killed you in that whore of a mother's womb of hers. I should have killed you and her so I could be free of your detestable witchcraft."

"Father alone wanted to beat the crap out of me right then and there," I continued on, feeling the waves of emotions try to stop me from going any further. "And he did at the restaurant with Corey and Marco joining in and Alicia and Bianca cheering on with their mother as they enjoyed their cocktails and threw martini glasses at me. But I was the one who fought back and did all the table-flipping to make Giudice proud."

"I remember that," Pablo said, giving me a look of indifference. "I saw you on YouTube and you were definitely not happy with the act of betrayal. It scared me in the way you took out a nearby waiter."

"Pablo," Dr. St. Pierre admonished. To me, "Continue, Wendell."

I nodded. "After we all went back to the mansion, I just went to my bedroom and headed for my computer, my mind set on the eulogy that would finally set everything right once and for all..."

I am a sinner/Who's probably gonna sin again...

The bedroom door was locked.

The blinds were lowered.

Kendrick Lamar was blasting away in my wireless earbuds.

I sat at my desk, typing away on my laptop computer with raging fury and passion as I didn't want to talk to any of the spawns of Satan that I was forced to call my family. This essay was going to be the epitome of all the emotions that were running in my veins.

I was tired of all of the fires that were in my way and yet I was wired with the power to prepare myself for the inevitable.

I was all cried out with little left to say but the tears of rejection and retribution were still falling from my eyes.

I was on the verge of a breakdown yet glued together by the blinding anger and determination.

Lord, forgive me/ Lord, forgive me for things that I don't understand...

And despite the sperm donor crashing my fortress of solitude and screaming in my face, I smiled and spat in his face before throwing him out with a roundhouse kick and getting back to work.

I had it all planned out for the last day of my life, designed the ultimate day of the unleashing of Hurricane Wendell.

Read the eulogy while unleashing the sins and the secrets of all the students and faculty at McHell High while saying goodbye to Ms. Whitfield and thanking her for being my one and only friend. I knew that I didn't deserve her, but she was still loyal and genuine until the end. Even for an adult, she was still the best friend that I could ever ask for. I would wish for nothing but the best for her.

Then, I'd take my rage out on the school with a baseball bat and begin to destroy all the precious trophies and memories of the liars and thieves that call themselves the jocks and queens of the school. And if anyone dares to stop me, I'd take them out with a giant swing to maim them and send them back to the seventies.

Come back to this prison that was known as my home and decapitate the opulent treasures that those children of harlots and Belial owned- shattering wine glasses and chinaware, smashing plasma TVs, burning the clothes and jewels down to the ground before heading outside and taking every single car that HE owned and sending them to their burial at the lake in the front yard for all to see.

Head out to the lake with a bottle of Moet champagne and vodka, a bottle of Vicodin, and a handgun.

Make one final toast to this ever-changing world that made me cry at night before swallowing the pills down and taking the gun to my hand.

And then, I would be free.

Sometimes I need to be alone.

The Gemini Whores barge in with their lovers- Corey included- and all of them are greeted with backhands and a few venom-laced words of my own before I threw them out with little force. The step-whore comes in and slaps me, demanding that I apologize and make preparations to be sent to military school.

She's given a fist to her plastic jaw before I grab her nappy head and throw her out.

Bitch, don't kill my vibe.

Bitch, don't kill my vibe.

I finish my essay with more Kendrick Lamar blasting his realness in my ears with his poetic justice giving me the ammunition needed to prepare for the day ahead tomorrow.

What did I do in the past to earn such bitterness?

What had I said in my past life- if I was given one- to earn the ires of all that I came contact with?

I did all that they asked. They returned it with shards of repression and depravity.

I would even give them the whole galaxy enclosed in a glass marble and fitted with a crown. It wouldn't even matter since they would still demand that I die.

Maybe I didn't try hard enough.

Maybe I didn't reach high enough.

Maybe I wasn't strong enough to beat the odds.

Or maybe, just maybe... I gave all that I could and was exhausting my bank of emotional gratuity and yet they still demanded more payments just for being alive.

I can feel your energy from two planets away.

I got my drink/ I got my music/ I would share it but today I'm feeling...

No matter. My last will and testament alongside my ammunition to expose them and call them out on their lies before I took them down in a physical manner was ready to roll. I would make sure that all of the bullshit would be made known to all mankind and that they would pay for their pains against me.

They will all know that I was to leave a legacy that would go on for generations.

I finished my preparations by getting out my black and gold ensemble that would transform me into the child of the Yoruba water goddess Oshun and the Hindi goddess of wrath Kali. Finally satisfied, I smile wickedly as I finish the words of Sir Lamar's rhapsody.

Bitch, don't kill my vibe.

Bitch, don't kill my vibe.

Bitch, don't kill my vibe.

Bitch, don't kill my vibe...

As the final hours draw near, the hidden words will soon be made clear. And by the end of the day, I would be long gone- finally free of this misery and the insanity that became my life ever since I was born.

My name was Wendell "Hardass" Harding. And tomorrow would be my day of ultimate judgment...

By the time I was finished, there was a deathly quiet in the air, as if I had left everyone and everyone speechless with the memories. I took a few deep breaths as I felt Logan's hands massage my back. Opening my eyes, I saw the looks of sadness in the women and the quiet rage in the guys.

And I knew that I had gone too far in telling them.

"Did I make a giant mistake?" I asked.

"No," Dr. St. Pierre said firmly. "You were betrayed and abused by a foolish man that wanted to save his own skin and make sure that he would have everything. He fed you to the wolves just to cover his own tracks. And while your actions at the restaurant weren't condonable, I understand that you were hurting and broken-hearted."

"I knew something was off when Wendell's ex-father invited him to the dinner that night," Ms. Whitfield said, dabbing her eyes to wipe away the tears. "And the worst part of it all was it all happened on Wendell's birthday."

"WHAT?!" everyone exclaimed, all eyes turned to me.

I nodded. "I had just turned sixteen and I was hoping that my birthday would be the usual mediocre routine," I admitted. "It was bad enough that I was outed, but for him to do that to me on my birthday? That was the final straw on the camel's back."

"I bet," Victor muttered, letting out a string of Spanish curses to himself sotto voce.

"And that was the calm before the ultimate storm," Dr. Sellers finished, setting her notepad and pen down. "Oh, Wendell. Is that why you were so set on ending your life?"

I nodded slowly. "When I was outed on my own birthday, it just confirmed Father's suspicions that I wasn't a true man in his eyes and it made him hate me even more. I was the one failure in a sea of plastic perfectionists and that made me become Public Enemy Number One in the eyes of the richest community of Seattle. And so, I planned everything out- my dream funeral and cremation with my ashes scattered into the Puget Sound, the eulogy, and all. I knew that only Ms. Whitfield would be the lone attendee at my service and that no one else would care. Knowing them, they just celebrate with parties and parades all around after some healing in their hospital beds."

"Oh, Wendell," Ms. Whitfield said softly.

"I never liked my birthday set in the preliminary days before summer because it was a stark reminder that I was doomed from the start of my life," I continued. "I knew that everyone wanted me gone before I turned eighteen and they were all wanting to see me crash. So I never truly celebrated my birthdays, always imagining what it would be like if I was never born. And I bet that everyone would be better off without me."

"Not me," said my trusted ex-guidance counselor. "I would be stuck with those spoiled future liars and thieves."

"Thank you," I said. "And you know, I would think of you when I would imagine my impending death, either by murder or by my hand. I knew that you'd miss me with enough hatred to take out your revenge on everyone."

Logan stood me up to my feet and wrapped me in a giant hug, his muffled sobs filling the room. "I'm so sorry," he said to me. "I'm so sorry that you went through all of that, Wendell. And that's the main reason why I knew you and I would be a match. Because I was like you before I came here- before Uncle Lucas took me away from my prison and led me into being his protegee."

"Is this where you're going to tell me your story?" I asked.

He faced me with tears in his eyes. "Yes," he said. "I think it's time that you know of my story- the story of a broken and raging teenager that became your boyfriend and your roommate."

To his uncle, "Do you want to join in and tell him about my journey? Wendell deserves to know about us, you know."

"I do," Dr. St. Pierre replied. "And it's fitting that I join you because I know that Wendell will need us more than ever."

"How so?" Ms. Whitfield wanted to know.

He sighed. "Something big is coming to Wendell's way and what's going to happen will put him to the test from all areas- Braeden's campaign to get rid of him, his family, and himself," he replied. "He's going to have to lean on all of us here and make some of the hardest decisions of his life. And most of all, he's going to make one decision that can make or break him."

All eyes turned on me once more as I felt the rising tide of fear wash over me and all I could do was continue to blow bubbles as I grasped my boyfriend's hand and that of his uncle's.

Well...this was one chapter that needed to be written- to show you all how Wendell dealt with the emotions of betrayal by Corey as he outed poor Wendell. Poor guy. Wendell gave his all to his family and yet he got kicked in the teeth for his pains!

And in the next chapter, it's Logan's turn to tell his story of how he ended up at Carter Valley Academy. And it's a doozy!

Dedication: letsgohomehidee.

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