Craig/Mini's Pov:

I walk out to the moving truck and grab my last few boxes. God moving sucks! Having to pack everything in boxes only to have to move them and then unpack them again in a different location. I don't get why people move unless it's for something important like work, which is why we moved because my fathers work had made us and that my parents were very disliked at the old place because I was their son. Only because having a gay son is not appreciated in a christian town. So here we are in Toronto, Canada far away from our old home.
"CRAIG! HURRY THE FUCK UP AND GET INSIDE! I DON'T WANT ANYONE TO SEE YOU MORE THAN THEY HAVE TO!" yelled my father. I sighed and grabbed my last three boxes and walk back to the two story house I now call home...well for me being with these two asshole parents it's more like hell, but with a different setting.
I sigh, walking into the house and trudge up the oak stairs. The beige walls looming over me like they want to fall over and collapse the entire fucking house ontop of me. I let out a shaky sigh and reach the top of the stairs to see four doors. Three bedroom, one bathroom. The stairs were in the spot between the living room and dinning room, the kitchen is a turn to the left after entering the dinning room, so it's completely sheilded off from the living room.
I open the left bedroom door to walk into my new room that now has over ten boxes, my queen sized matress/box spring lying against the wall waiting to be put together. My desk for my computer and a tv stand for, well, obviously my tv. A bookshelf for my games, dvds, or whatever I can put on it.
I blow some of my sweat covered hair out of my eyes and scrunch my nose a bit to try and push my glasses farther onto my nose. I walk over to the other boxes and carefully put the ones im carrying with its brethren.
I stand straight and tilt my head back, running a hand through my curly, brown hair. (I dont know exactly what color his hair is and how to describe it, but obviously you know who he is and what he looks like or else you wouldn't be reading this!)
"CRAIG!" I hear my mother yell this time. I sigh and clean my glasses as I walk down the stairs. "Yes Mother." I say as I walk into the living room where I heard her voice, only to be slapped in the face. "I told you never to call me that again Faggot! I told you it's Madame!" She yells and slaps me again. "S-Sorry Madame! What is it you need?!" I ask frantically to stop her assult. She gives one final slap to the cheek causing me to fall. "That's better! Now go fix us dinner." She says as she walks outside to help father get things from the truck.
I growl and stand, rubbing my cheek. She's lucky I don't tell father just how many men she's brought home with her when he's out on business trips.
I growl and walk into the kitchen, turning the stove-eye on and putting a pan of water on it, cooking spaghetti since I over heard them talking about it earlier and how I better make it right. Usually how my cooking for them goes is, they tell me to fix something, but they don't tell me what they want me to fix. So I fix whatever and tell them it's ready, they come down and then I get beat for not making what they wanted. This time though I got the fuckers what they wanted.
While I'm making dinner in the kitchen I hear my parents walk up the stairs into their bedroom. I get done with dinner and I place it in the paper plates we brought so we, well, so I didn't have to unpack the dishes. I poured them some wine in some foam cups and put them on the counter. "SIR, MADAME DINNER IS READY!" I call as I stand to the side, no expression on my face.
They walk down the stairs and walk into the dinning room to the kitchen. They were about to start yelling before they saw the spaghetti and their faces turned to shock. "How did you..." I just stood there awaiting for their reaction. Father then looked up at me, his face angered. "YOU WERE LISTENING INTO OUR CONVERSATION IN THE CAR EARLIER YOU LITTLE SHIT!" He yelled and grabbed me by the throat. I growl and claw at his hand. He slams me into the counter and then onto the floor. I cough as he kicks me in the stomach, my 'mother' watching with a frown. Once he's done they take their dinner and go back up to their room. I struggle to get up as I cough and try to breathe normally. I lean over the sink, the moon shining through the window in front of me. I take my glasses off as tears silently cascade down my face. I feel eyes on me as I look up, only to see some of the bushes shiver as something runs through them. It was nothing. I need to go put my bed together because I have to go to school tomorrow and I'll be the only one wandering around like a fucking idiot because it's the middle of the school year here. Great...just...great.