I’m a loud, obnoxious “kid” who has a problem killing monsters. I want people to think I’m not afraid of anything. That words don’t hurt and that my skin is thick and I’m invulnerable. But that’s sadly not the case.
There is always someone who has to make a comment. And really there is no comment about my person that someone can say that bothers me except one. “Oh, so you are gay?”
I’ve told you about my first kiss and my ‘first love’. But really none of these mean anything in the greater picture of things. Dylan was nothing compared to the man I had a crush on freshman year of the Academy.
Life in the Venatori is different than most realize, except for other Venatori of course. It’s like living in a story book world where the monsters and the heros all exist. As a kid growing up before really knowing what life as Venatori meant I idolized the stories I was told. But not the ones every other kid grows up with. To me swinging from a spider web was impossible but yet I knew of men who could swing from buildings with ease. Super strong like Superman, sure. I could just watch the men and women in the gym pound each other with fists of steal and life refrigerators without sweating. Run fast like the Flash? No problem at least for Venatori.
My parents were never around for me. My mother left me to the Venatori at the tender age of 5 and I didn’t know who my father was until I was 18 years old. But here’s the horrid tale of my parentage.
My best friend has been my best friend for nearly as long as I’ve been with the Venatori. I met Jason Hill when I was 5 year old. He was one of my roommates after the orange door. (A special room for firestarters that was fire proof and had special censors.)