"What are you talking about?!" Connor snapped as he stood up from the dinner table.
"The cries for attention! We know that's what they are!" Larry snapped back as he stood so he was level with his son. Or... Closer to being level with him. Connor was at least six inches taller than Larry.
"It's not a fucking cry for attention! I don't need or fucking want your attention, Larry!"
"Cora! Language!" Cynthia pleaded while looking as if she were about to burst into tears.
"Then what would you call it?" Larry barked out a short, humorless laugh. "The absences, the smoking, the transgenderism, the self-harm?" Larry noticed Connor's jaw drop and he laughed once more. "Yeah, we know about it all, Cora. We aren't idiots."
That was the last straw for Zoe. She dropped her fork and stood calmly. "Yelling is not helping anyone. Let's all-"
"Yes," Connor cut her off, "Yelling isn't helping. So, I'm done yelling." He turned on his heel and marched his way upstairs and into his bedroom. He made sure to slam the door, just to piss Larry off.
Larry knew- he fucking knew about the self-harm and he had done nothing. No therapist, no talks, no-fucking-thing.
Not that Connor would have cooperated with anything fucking Larry suggested.
Connor paced across his room as he made his decision.
He slowed his steps when he got to the closet and started yanking clothes out and tossing them onto his unmade bed. There was a duffel bag in the back from when they went to Disney World.
Before Connor started to fall apart.
He shook his head as if to clear the thoughts and pulled the duffel out. He loaded the bag with clothes, and even some toiletries.
When he had finished packing the main portion, Connor unzipped an inner pocket that was practically hidden.
Connor had taken to hiding things from his parents a couple years ago. It became habit to keep even simple things, like his favorite book, out of view from those he didn't trust.
Connor quickly turned to his CD player and started blasting Bring Me The Horizon's "That's The Spirit" album. The loud music should cover his tracks. At least, for now.
His shoulder length brown hair was getting in the way, so he pulled it back into a bun before squatting and reaching behind his bookshelf for a book that had "fallen." He opened the book and took the money out of the hollowed out center.
He had started saving a couple years back when he first planned out his escape.
When he first came out as transgender.
Connor shook away that thought as well and shoved the money in the hidden pocket as he tried to remember his plan.
Pack clothes. Grab money. Take his wallet with his license. Sneak out late to take the car. Go to the orchard. Sleep in the backseat. Go to school. Skip math. Find a job.
Easier said than done.
Larry was staying up late, it seemed. It was nearing eleven and the light in the hallway was still on.
Fine. Fucking fine. Connor was fine with that. He grabbed a bottle of Febreeze and a travel size hand sanitizer before throwing them in his bag and angrily zipping it closed.
He could do this.
Connor grabbed his vent notebook, a specific notebook he wrote in whenever he was feeling particularly suicidal, and scrawled out a note on the last available page.
DEAR SO-CALLED FAMILY,
dont worry im fine. i ran away but dont put out a report. ill be dead before i come back to this house
me (connor fucking murphy)
Connor thought it was good enough. He wasn't writing another suicide note, listing all the reasons he can't stay. The notebook held all the reasons.
Connor took a deep breath before opening the window quietly. He didn't hear any noise downstairs, so he hesitantly stepped closer before realizing, he didn't have any fucking keys.
He'll walk. He can borrow the car from the school tomorrow. One less thing to do.
Connor slowly started to get himself and the bag out the window. When they were both seated on the roof, Connor paused again.
Connor slowly closed the window before making his way to the tree.
His parents had made him switch rooms with Zoe when they found out how often he snuck out. They thought it would stop him.
It didn't. Obviously.
It was harder getting down this time, but Connor blamed that on the duffel bag. He glanced back at the house with the light still on to see... nothing.
Larry left the light on just to fuck with him. Bastard.
Connor snickered to himself before quietly running on the tips of his toes towards the orchard.
Loose strands of his hair flew in the wind, and the bag made a rhythmic thump against his side as his feet hit the ground softly. As soon as he was sure he was out of sight, and hearing range, Connor let his feet slap the ground.
The wind bit at his face, and it was a little chilly out, but Connor had worse before. He grinned as he realized what he was doing. He was finally fucking free.
Connor got to the gate pretty quickly. They weren't exactly chained together, but the two swinging pieces usually sat parallel to each other. Today, the right one was forward a few inches.
Someone had been here.
Connor slowly pushed the gate open, silently wincing at the creak it made.
Nobody came running, so Connor made his way to his favorite tree.