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Campbell opened his eyes as he heard his door being knocked again. It was the second time in the morning. Did he care? Nah.
His new room was still dirty, but he found comfort in the sunlight that passed through the glass of the window; it was nicely warm, bathing the old wood floor, giving him the warmth of the hug he never had.
His Dad knocked once more, angrier. He should get up. He didn't want to go to his new school, hear the rumors about his past. He was sure some people already knew about the new weirdo.
-Stop it, i'm coming! -He exclaimed. He got up from the bed, not even checking the clock. Boxes still decorated the corners of his room, and the familiar unease, of not having everything in control, gave him chills.
He combed his Auburn hair, put on his socks, wore his uniform, and opened the door, ready to meet his father.
He remembered his father very well as the man who claimed being proud of him, the one who wasn't disgusted by the thought of hugging him, the one who loved his son. What Campbell didn't remember, is when his father stopped loving him. He was never a normal boy, he never felt like that, everyone knew it, but his father... He was not going to accept that. He was a man of control.
-Campbell. -Said his father, placing a hand on his son's shoulder to start moving him towards the door. Moving to Glasgow was a surprise to the young boy; Everything happened too fast, and he didn't know how to deal with it yet. - I've been calling you for two bloody minutes! I told you to be awake for school at seven!
-He's still sleepy, don't start yelling now. -His dear Mother interrupted him. She handed Campbell his bag, heavy with biology books and math manuals. Campbell took it softly, giving his mom a soft, childish smile, the one worth of a young boy.
His father scoffed, rolling his eyes and taking his car keys, opening the door impatiently. Campbell didn't hate his father, at least he didn't want to. He was always stressed, probably because of work, but sometimes, just in the loneliest nights, Campbell longed for just one minute with his real father, not the angry, impatient version of him.
The way to school was heavy with unspoken words. Campbell could see his dad eyes on the car mirror, the old yet young eyes staring in the road.
Campbell hoped this year everything could go okay. He was a good student, but he didn't really know how to tolerate everything at the same time; the noise, the people, the unpleasant sensations of big places like schools were. He would star crying, hitting or running away from everything and everyone. His dad was done with that.
"You'll start behaving like the good kid I know you are, or everyone will call you crazy." Were his dad's last words before he left Campbell at the school door. He didn't want to be called crazy, he wasn't.
He entered, and he couldn't help but feel impressed by how big the place was. It was bigger than his other school, and, because of that, there was more people.
Classes started early; first math, then biology, then literature. He could start feeling okay, like a normal kid. Nobody knew him, nobody knew the rumors about him. He was safe, he was okay.
As he passed by the other classrooms, he could finally watch other young people without feeling like an outsider, like a mistake. Nor broken. By experience, he knew that hoping to much was not safe, nothing was perfect, not for him, it never was. But, at the same time, he couldn't help but feel a bit more relaxed in the new ambient.
By the time he got home again, he noticed how silent his father was in the road. It wasn't as if his father was a talkative man, but his eyes betrayed nothing that night, so Campbell preferred not to talk.
-You did what, you stupid man?! -His mother exclaimed as soon they arrived home again. His father didn't hesitate in moving towards her, his knuckles white. Campbell moved to his room immediately, not even bothering in taking his school bag with him or ask what happened.
Campbell stood in his room for a long time, his parents forgetting dinner again. They sometimes screamed at eachother, or didn't talk. He distracted himself by placing his favourite musicians posters on the new walls of his new, lonely room. As he stared at David Bowie's asymmetrical eyes, he drifted into thought.
He hoped to be like him. Free, not afraid of being himself and be loved because of that. Bowie was so alive, so colorful and so, so beautiful. His father heard him say that a few years ago; he took Campbell by the ear and told him not to talk about man about that.
Campbell didn't care if Bowie was a man or not, he would always call him beautiful.
A loud sound from below interrupted him, paying more attention to the discussion. His father probably broke something, and he could hear his mother crying.
-It's not like I ever wanted this! -He Heard, his senses alerting him something was wrong at hearing his father voice break. -It's not like I ever wanted to live like this, live with you, or Campbell.
He froze, but he could hear his mother's voice softening. He couldn't hear what she was saying, but his father interrupted her, his voice so, so loud.
-It's not like I ever wanted a son like Campbell!
The silence was heavy. Almost as if his parents knew Campbell probably heard. The new house was big, an they were only three people. Campbell did nothing to fight the silence.
He stared at Bowie's eyes again a few seconds, like a promise, and turned of the lights.