He Makes Hell Feel Like Home
He Makes Hell Feel Like Home
Chapter 1
Kellin’s POV:
The harsh winter wind whipped my pale face, my only protection being a thin, worn out blanket. My stomach grumbled, begging me for food while I started to turn an unhealthy shade of blue.
Just like every winter I’ve spent on the streets, this one will be a long and painful journey. My only hope for this year is Austin; the tall man who often brings me food, except I haven’t seen him for a while now. Two weeks, maybe? I don’t know, you lose track of time on the streets. The last sandwich he gave me is long gone, although I had rationed it over a few days, I haven’t eaten since then.
It’s moments like these that I think back to a few years ago; sat at home in front of a crackling fire with my parents, sharing jokes and watching old movies. I miss those times, and I miss my parents greatly. The Kellin back then was not me though, that was ‘straight’ Kellin. Gay Kellin, the real me, was kicked out as soon as my parents found out. I don’t hate my parents, like you’d expect, I just hate what they did. They’re too devoted to God to be able to have a gay son, it’s simply not acceptable, of course.
I looked across the road, and saw a fairly busy corner shop. You have to do this, Kellin.Shakily, I stood up and brushed off the odd piece of dirt that attached itself to my jeans and sighed heavily. I hate doing this, but I have to. I have no choice.
The shop bell rang as I walked in, alerting the shop keeper that I had entered. Warmth enveloped me and I let out a content sigh, I would kill just to have heating for a day, people don’t realise how lucky they are. Or maybe it’s just me that’s unlucky. Trying to look as casual as possible, I strolled down an aisle and gazed at all the delicious looking food. Sure, it may not look all that great to someone who has three meals a day, but to a starved twenty year old like myself, it was like heaven. I had to think logically, I need food that doesn’t need heating or prepared, but could also last me a while.
I stared longingly at the crisps, I missed them. I would try to get some but the packet is far too loud to sneak into my pocket, so I carried on browsing through the shop. I came across beans, making sure I got the tins that you could open without a device, I slowly sunk two cans into my pockets. Beans may not be an ideal meal, but it isn’t noisy and I don’t really mind them cold to be honest. Feeling a little greedy, I also got a packet of bread buns, since they’re flatter than a loaf of bread.
“Hey!” I heard a shop assistant yell just as I was covering the pack with my jacket, my body jerked into action and I sprinted from the shop. Well, I say sprinted, but for a guy who hasn’t eaten for two weeks and has aching joints, it was more like a jog to everyone else.
I must have gotten half way down the street before I felt a rough yank on the back of my jacket. This isn’t the first time I’ve been caught, but since stealing a tin of beans isn’t exactly the most lethal crime, I’ve just spent a night in a cell.
“Nice try, kid. You’re not getting out of this one.” The shop assistant snarled at me, removing the bread and beans from my possession. As I remembered my previous nights in cells, I realised that they’ve been the best nights I’ve had for about two years. I’m not sure why I haven’t noticed before, but I think getting arrested wouldn’t be so bad after all.
When the police car rolled around the corner I was being a nice obedient ‘criminal’ and obliged to get into the car peacefully. However just as I was about to step in, I threw a punch at the police officer, and kicked said man in the shin. It was an extremely weak attack that hardly did any damage, but I didn’t actually want to hurt the poor man so it was okay. Assaulting a police officer gives you time, right?
“Just get in the car,” He growled, pushing my head down to help me into the vehicle as he retorted the Miranda rights. The ride to the station wasn’t too long, only about ten minutes, and the car soon came to a stop. The police man roughly grabbed me, not wanting another vicious attack and led me into the warm station.
Since I was caught stealing, I had to be searched to see if there were any other illegally owned items on me. All they found was an old iPod, bought for me by my mother on my seventeenth birthday, and surprisingly still worked.
“Did you pay for this? If you lie to us, we can track the serial number and see who purchased it, if it was purchased.” I thought for a minute, contemplating whether to tell them the truth or not. This could decide how long I spent in a cell, so I decided to lie.
“I stole it from a woman on the street.” I told them quietly, looking at my shoes while I did so. I heard them sigh, before taking me through to another room. I looked around for a while, the room was quite plain; plain walls, plain furniture.
“State your name, age and address please, sir.” A shorter man asked me, after clearing his throat to gain my attention.
“Kellin Quinn, 20, I have no address.” I replied in a bored tone, I have been through this a couple of times already. Quinn wasn’t my real surname, so it didn’t surprise me when the man told me that I wasn’t in the system. “Bostwick.”
“I’m sorry, what?” He replied, furrowing his brows.
“Bostwick, originally my surname.” I clarified to him. I called myself Quinn because I no longer wanted to share the same last name as my parents. There was no real meaning behind the choice of ‘Quinn’ I just liked the ring it had to it.
“Ah yes, here you are, this isn’t the first time you’ve been convicted either.” The man muttered, disappointment clear in his voice.
I shrugged in response, and a female officer took me to a cell where I’d be spending the night, I knew the drill. “This is it, Mr Bostwick. You’ll be here until we’ve spoken to the shop assistant and police officer you assaulted, it’s up to them to press charges.” She smiled at me, she seemed nice so I thanked her politely as she walked back to wherever she came from.
I laid down on the bed, it was the comfiest thing I had laid on in months. I guess my time here won’t be so bad.
Kellin’s POV:
The harsh winter wind whipped my pale face, my only protection being a thin, worn out blanket. My stomach grumbled, begging me for food while I started to turn an unhealthy shade of blue.
Just like every winter I’ve spent on the streets, this one will be a long and painful journey. My only hope for this year is Austin; the tall man who often brings me food, except I haven’t seen him for a while now. Two weeks, maybe? I don’t know, you lose track of time on the streets. The last sandwich he gave me is long gone, although I had rationed it over a few days, I haven’t eaten since then.
It’s moments like these that I think back to a few years ago; sat at home in front of a crackling fire with my parents, sharing jokes and watching old movies. I miss those times, and I miss my parents greatly. The Kellin back then was not me though, that was ‘straight’ Kellin. Gay Kellin, the real me, was kicked out as soon as my parents found out. I don’t hate my parents, like you’d expect, I just hate what they did. They’re too devoted to God to be able to have a gay son, it’s simply not acceptable, of course.
I looked across the road, and saw a fairly busy corner shop. You have to do this, Kellin.Shakily, I stood up and brushed off the odd piece of dirt that attached itself to my jeans and sighed heavily. I hate doing this, but I have to. I have no choice.
The shop bell rang as I walked in, alerting the shop keeper that I had entered. Warmth enveloped me and I let out a content sigh, I would kill just to have heating for a day, people don’t realise how lucky they are. Or maybe it’s just me that’s unlucky. Trying to look as casual as possible, I strolled down an aisle and gazed at all the delicious looking food. Sure, it may not look all that great to someone who has three meals a day, but to a starved twenty year old like myself, it was like heaven. I had to think logically, I need food that doesn’t need heating or prepared, but could also last me a while.
I stared longingly at the crisps, I missed them. I would try to get some but the packet is far too loud to sneak into my pocket, so I carried on browsing through the shop. I came across beans, making sure I got the tins that you could open without a device, I slowly sunk two cans into my pockets. Beans may not be an ideal meal, but it isn’t noisy and I don’t really mind them cold to be honest. Feeling a little greedy, I also got a packet of bread buns, since they’re flatter than a loaf of bread.
“Hey!” I heard a shop assistant yell just as I was covering the pack with my jacket, my body jerked into action and I sprinted from the shop. Well, I say sprinted, but for a guy who hasn’t eaten for two weeks and has aching joints, it was more like a jog to everyone else.
I must have gotten half way down the street before I felt a rough yank on the back of my jacket. This isn’t the first time I’ve been caught, but since stealing a tin of beans isn’t exactly the most lethal crime, I’ve just spent a night in a cell.
“Nice try, kid. You’re not getting out of this one.” The shop assistant snarled at me, removing the bread and beans from my possession. As I remembered my previous nights in cells, I realised that they’ve been the best nights I’ve had for about two years. I’m not sure why I haven’t noticed before, but I think getting arrested wouldn’t be so bad after all.
When the police car rolled around the corner I was being a nice obedient ‘criminal’ and obliged to get into the car peacefully. However just as I was about to step in, I threw a punch at the police officer, and kicked said man in the shin. It was an extremely weak attack that hardly did any damage, but I didn’t actually want to hurt the poor man so it was okay. Assaulting a police officer gives you time, right?
“Just get in the car,” He growled, pushing my head down to help me into the vehicle as he retorted the Miranda rights. The ride to the station wasn’t too long, only about ten minutes, and the car soon came to a stop. The police man roughly grabbed me, not wanting another vicious attack and led me into the warm station.
Since I was caught stealing, I had to be searched to see if there were any other illegally owned items on me. All they found was an old iPod, bought for me by my mother on my seventeenth birthday, and surprisingly still worked.
“Did you pay for this? If you lie to us, we can track the serial number and see who purchased it, if it was purchased.” I thought for a minute, contemplating whether to tell them the truth or not. This could decide how long I spent in a cell, so I decided to lie.
“I stole it from a woman on the street.” I told them quietly, looking at my shoes while I did so. I heard them sigh, before taking me through to another room. I looked around for a while, the room was quite plain; plain walls, plain furniture.
“State your name, age and address please, sir.” A shorter man asked me, after clearing his throat to gain my attention.
“Kellin Quinn, 20, I have no address.” I replied in a bored tone, I have been through this a couple of times already. Quinn wasn’t my real surname, so it didn’t surprise me when the man told me that I wasn’t in the system. “Bostwick.”
“I’m sorry, what?” He replied, furrowing his brows.
“Bostwick, originally my surname.” I clarified to him. I called myself Quinn because I no longer wanted to share the same last name as my parents. There was no real meaning behind the choice of ‘Quinn’ I just liked the ring it had to it.
“Ah yes, here you are, this isn’t the first time you’ve been convicted either.” The man muttered, disappointment clear in his voice.
I shrugged in response, and a female officer took me to a cell where I’d be spending the night, I knew the drill. “This is it, Mr Bostwick. You’ll be here until we’ve spoken to the shop assistant and police officer you assaulted, it’s up to them to press charges.” She smiled at me, she seemed nice so I thanked her politely as she walked back to wherever she came from.
I laid down on the bed, it was the comfiest thing I had laid on in months. I guess my time here won’t be so bad.
