Eight Years Later

Jaden's POV

Time flies by so slowly when you're fully aware of it. Sometimes I feel like people move by so quickly that they turn into blurs. Everyone I know, which is not much, look at me as some motherless child.

Trust me, with Mother's like mine, I rather be called motherless indeed. That and who'd want to see the bitch anyway? After what she let them do to me, I don't even want to see her alive. She sold her own son off to faceless pedophiles for a little speed, heroin, crack or whatever the hell she was on at the time.

Heck, maybe it was all of the above.

She saw something in me that she didn't like. Something that she probably despised. At eight-years-old, and abused by my mother, I grew to understand that some people are way scarier than than those fairytails other brats were spoon-fed.

Born into reality, I feared my very own shadow for a long time, still do sometimes. The only one that had been there at the really bad times was Blake. I had grown close to him. To me, he represented strength. His grey eyes, that some times looked green, was always warm and accepting towards me, next to my mothers cold, dark and sometimes hostile brown ones; dirty browns that were so much like mine.

I knew that after one of their fights, I wouldn't get to see Blake for quiet some time. It would be a week, a month, one time he was gone for a year. So I never really got comfortably enough as to called him Dad. I mean, I called him Pops just to tease him sometimes, but he's always been 'Blake' to me.

Unfortunately, he'll always be just Blake to me.

---

That night, I don't know what had happen to sprout such a big argument. My mother was screaming bloody murder as she proceeded to wreck the house by breaking everything that was able to be broken.

"Susan! You always do this! And in front of Jaden too!" he had yelled furiously back at her. That only rattled her more, and she glared deathly at me, as he guided me by my shoulder to my room. "Listen buddy, me and your Mom need to talk. I don't want you hearing bad things."

"Jaden this, Jaden that. Are you fucking pervert?! Are you choosing a boy above me, your wife?!" Even though, I locked myself in the closet I could clearly hear their argument, though I remember just bits and pieces.

"Oh my God! Really Susan? That's OUR child!" I heard Blake respond. His voice lowered and hushed, as he intentionally tried to keep me from hearing what he had to say.

"I've seen the way that boy looks at you. He's a deviant! He's no son of mine," my mother yelled deliriously.

I scoffed at the memory. There were way more to that argument than I care to admit, but that was the main thing I remembered. I guess my Mom knew something that I didn't at the time. I was very much like her in many ways too, because only the Gods know that I didn't share any traits with Blake. I didn't share not one single trait of him.

This became very clear to me as the years passed by.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I sat comfortably in the lazy-boy crack-back sofa my Uncle had in his office. Idly, I stared at his many awards and certificates. The room smelled faintly of old spice, and gum. He liked chewing gum for some reason. It's an anxiety thing he learned couple years ago during his Psychology course, he once admitted.

I heard that during the whole ordeal, he actually suggested for Blake to hand me over to him. Of course Blake didn't think twice to turn him down. The Uncle wasn't as snobbish as I thought he'd be. Blake keeps making his family sounds like some feigns but Brad seemed okay. A little of his rocks at times, but still a passable human being.

He was somewhat of my therapist, so I guess he had to be.

You have no idea how hard it was to get use to dear Uncle Brad and his unorthodox methods. I've read up on it, trust me. He is way more affectionate than Blake is, and he was a little too extreme. You know, with the hugs, ruffling my hair -the thing I hated the most-, and the weird rubs on the back.

I just sort of assume that he was the Uncle of skin-ship. It was his way of helping me get use to people touching me or so he says. Just lately, he's been acting a bit stranger than usual.

"Hello Jaden, how are you today?" he asked as he placed away some papers he had on his desk.

"Just the usual. I skipped school today. Be a doll and don't tell Blake. He'd get assy over it," I asked.

He gave me a disapproving gaze, but it's not like I hadn't said or done worse. "So what? You were thinking of making your dear Uncle Brad an accomplice to your truancy?" he asked. "Don't you think I've taking too much of a rap for you lately or is it that you've finally gotten tired of your over-protective Dad?"

I made a face and laughed drying. "That's never gonna happen, and you know that... just like Pluto never being a planet again," I answered, knowing that this Pluto-topic was a grinding-gears topic for Brad.

"Don't be bursting my bubble. I have faith that Pluto will be place back in our solar system as a planet." Brad retorting rolling his eyes. "There must be a reason that you're here or I'm just gonna assumed that you miss my handsome face," he added wiggling his eyebrows at me.

Still chuckling, I relaxed a little in order to get through what I wanted to get off my chest today. Brad didn't seemed like the type, but he was the only one-apart from the one good friend I had- that I could talk to about certain emotions I've been feeling. "I'm finding it hard to restrain myself. It's somewhat overwhelming me."

"I see. So these feelings of yours haven't changed as yet? Have you tried doing what I suggested?" he asked.

I played with the straps of my hoodie, carefully choosing my words. "That's the thing, I'm only interested in one person. Sure, there are plenty people out there for me to choose from. I have dated a few people, but..." tiredly, I rubbed my hand over my face, "every time they try to touch me in any other way apart from friendly gestures, I'm reminded of that time."

"You are young Jaden. Young and beautiful, if I may so myself. Why be so stuck on this?"

I grimaced. "Don't call me beautiful. I know who I look like. Even if he doesn't admit it, I know that I look like her. I've hated that face for so long, and now I'm literally seeing it in the reflection of my mirror."

Brad reached over and ruffled my hair, and I groaned at the way he messed up the already messy style that I had put in that morning. "What I'm saying is, you should be out and experiencing life. After what you've been through, I'm surprised you don't have any lasting trauma or bad traits, apart from wanting to look like a pincushion," Brad answered referring to my piercings and ear expansions.

"It's not like I don't enjoy experiencing life' with him. I'm just not experiencing the life I 'want' with him. More than likely, it's because I'm gay and can't control these...urges of mine."

"Being gay is perfectly normal."

"Oh you know what I mean," I pressed on exasperatedly.

Brad let out a long sigh. It's weird. I don't think he likes hearing talk about it. Sometimes I'd get the feeling that he doesn't want to even hear about it. He'd give me there's strange look and unreadable eyes that gave me goosebumps. Then, there were even times that I'd catch him checking me out. So I don't really know what Brad's deal.

He was a single man of 33 years. No wife. No kids to what I've heard from Blake, and apparently, he's still in the Arons family 'good graces' as he put it. I was grateful to him to have been there for us but it's kinda weird that he never seemed to talk about himself. He's basically the mysterious Uncle that everyone has in their family. It's probably just my paranoia telling me that all men want to hurt me.

All men, except one.

A silence settled between us, as he wrote on his note pad. Sure Brad probably finds me weird and strange for having him listen to my teenage love troubles but at least he doesn't outright shows disgust.

"Uncle, some times I feel like my Mom was right. You know, about me being a deviant and all. I mean, there must be something wrong with me for feeling like this. I haven't really been hiding it, but I don't flaunt it either but some times, it's like he knows, but doesn't say anything."

Brad gave me a sympathetic smile and let out a huge breath. "Maybe he does." Hearing him say that, I instantly sat up and looked up into his face trying to see if maybe he was just pulling my leg. "Now now," he added alarmed, "don't look at me like that. I'm kidding."

"Ahhh!!" I groaned frustratedly and narrowed my eyes at him. "Don't play with my heart like that," I added as I flung myself into the lazy-boy's embrace. "I swear, this would be much easier if we weren't close. Just imagine me at one of your psycho-conventions; my name is Jaden Arons, I like tattoos, piercings, skateboards and jerking off to my Dad's shirtless photos."

"Okay then! Way too much information there, nephew," Brad said, fingers pressuring the bridge of his nose.

"You're such a drama-queen, I'm sure you've heard worse," I snickered lazily.

I sobered up a little at the look of his awkward expression, and gazed out of the window near me. I'm pretty sure there are people out there having relations with people they're related to. Like that one article about that chick who was apparently got pregnant for her own father and even married to marry him.

"What do you think Brad?"

"About?" he asked suddenly absent-mindedly

Rolling my eyes, I stated, "I'm in love with your brother; a man, who also happens to be my father....any thoughts?"

He seemed to think about it, but his response was as always. "Personally, I don't think it's right. Due to what you went through, the bond and connection you have towards him is inevitable. Blake loves you Jaden, but you are his blood. He's seen you become into what you are. I don't think that sort of affection can change into what you want it to be."

I sighed heavily. "I guess you're right. I just... I just love him so much, you know. Then again, I'm cared for by him, loved-though not in the way I want-by him, so it's got to be enough, right? It just has to."

"What if one day it isn't?" I heard Brad asked.

"Then, my mother would be right. I guess being in love with Blake like I am... ," I shook my head woeful, yet somewhat okay with it by now, "...does make me dirty."