I arrived at home after my detention and saw my dad sitting on the couch. The other one was working at this time, but he had a part time job. He would come home any second now. I sat down next to my dad with a glass of water.

'George is coming over,' I muttered, avoiding any eye contact with my dad.

I felt him smile at me and grabbed my hand. I immediately pulled away. 'Stay off me.'

'I just wanted to talk to you.'

'You don't have to touch me for that.'

'Clay, I love you. It hurts me when you act like this. I just wish that you could love me too.'

'If you were with a woman, yes. Then I would love you.'

'But I love your dad so much, Clay. Can you not just try to accept that?'

'I don't want to accept something like that, it's gross and it's not meant to be. You make me sick.'

'You wouldn't be here without me,' my dad muttered sadly.

I jumped up. 'And I wouldn't be here without my donor either.'

'Clay, please-.'

'Stop talking to me, I don't want that disease you have.'

'It's not a disease, sweetie. I was born this way and I've hidden it for a while.'

'I'm disgusted by you.'

'Do you know how sad this makes us? We love each other so much and we loved each other so much that we would have loved to get kids and raise them with love. I've never done anything different than giving you all my time and love since you are our only kid and I love you to death.'

'Just marry a woman, then you're giving me love.'

'But I love your dad.'

'Just divorce, I'm so sick of it.'

'Clay, stop this right now. We've never done anything wrong.'

'DONE NOTHING WRONG? I've been bullied for five years, FIVE! Is that not enough for you?'

'We didn't choose for you to get bullied.'

'But it's your fault, I could have been happy with a mum and a dad. I also miss having a mum sometimes, is that too difficult to understand?'

'Would you love us more if we planned an appointment with your donor?'

'No, I would love her more than I have ever loved you.'

My dad didn't answer me and stared at his hands with the most sad look on his face ever. I felt a bit guilty, but decided to walk away and lock myself in my room.

As I laid down on my bed, tears started streaming down my face. Maybe I was a bit too harsh on my dad, but I still disliked him for everything he had caused me. I was so sad, I wasn't happy anymore. I was bullied for so long and it hurt. It hurt me so badly that I often cried about it.

I always acted tough, I acted like I never cried. I acted like I was happy when deep down, I was just depressed, lonely and scared. I was scared for someone new to figure out that I had two dads and bully me again.

Sometimes people thought physical abuse hurt more than mental abuse, but I could guarantee that this wasn't the truth. The pain of a fist against your face would fade, it would hurt and it would probably leave a scar, but it would go away. The pain of words never left, they always kept haunting me. As soon as I saw myself in the mirror and realised how unhappy they made me.

No one knew that I was this unhappy, they just saw me as that annoying, homophobic guy who always thought he was in the right. I got detention a lot, because I argued all the time. Although, this was just to feel better about myself. I argued about things so I wouldn't feel stupid for not replying back. Just as the time that I didn't reply back to the bullies.

When I started acting though, people started leaving me alone. When I told them that I hated my dads too, they smiled at me and found me strong for disliking them. When I told them I was disgusted by them, they backed off and left me alone.

I started repeating those words to everyone passing by. I practised these words in my head at night so I would come across believable. I repeated it so often that I started believing them. I started believing that my dads were in the wrong, that they were disgusting.

I didn't care anymore about all the love they had given me, it was their fault that people hated me and that was why I hated them too now. They caused this, they caused me this pain. I might have been way too mean to them, but it was my only way to get rid of the bullies.

I felt guilty for nights long, but it got easier each time I made a mean comment about my dads. It got so easy that I even started saying them without a reason. It got this easy that I started believing in them completely.

I had always loved my dads, they did everything for me and they indeed gave me all their love. They gave me food, drinks, a shower, a room and they loved me since I was their only child.

It made me sad to think about those memories, it made me cry often and it made me even more unhappy than I already was. I hated them so badly that I didn't want to think about it anymore. I didn't want to remember the time when I loved them. It was the past and it was over.

I stared at my hands with a tear rolling down my cheek. It dropped down on my hand and I stared at it without any meaning. Even though it hurt me so much, deep down I still loved my dads more than anything on this earth. I only didn't dare to admit that.