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I shoved the heavy box into the corner of the cramped room, and wiped the sweat from my brow. Despite it being freezing outside, the small apartment was boiling. My landlord mumbled something about getting it fixed, but I had a feeling keeping week-to-week tenants happy was not his top priority.

I had been living in my car for a few weeks while my background check cleared (or so I was told), so I wasn't planning to complain much having an actual roof over my head, although finals would have been easier had I been able to actually sleep all the way through the night. I sat down on the box of books and looked around.

There was a small bathroom off to the back corner, and a miniature fridge left over from the buildings days as a motel. The carpet was stained and burnt from cigarettes, and the walls had turned a dingy tint. A pair of sun bleached curtains made a valiant attempt at blocking out the sun, but their years of good service in the fight had long passed. A long crack, which had been hastily patched, ran up the wall toward the middle of the room where a cot had been set up for rent at $10 extra a day. My few boxes were neatly stuffed in the corners, arranged by how badly I might need their contents. The thin walls did little to muffle the noise of my neighbors. It was a week until Christmas, and I could just make out the sound of Christmas carols echoing through the wall.

As I sat, feeling my sweat drip down my neck, trying to ignore the festive tune a room or two over, I couldn't help but feel like I was back with my dad and my sister all those years ago after my mom left. The same water stains, the same old odor. My pulse rushed as I thought of the beating, and the fear and sense of betrayal I had.

My dad crumpling Jude's letter.

My blood dripping on the kitchen floor.

My sister slowly closing the door.

I shook my head. There wasn't time for any of that now. This was my home. A temporary one, hopefully, but I needed a place to feel safe. I laid down on the cot and closed my eyes. It wasn't so bad when I wasn't looking at it.

Christmas came and went. Without the fraternity, I had no one on campus to celebrate with, and the obvious lack of contact from my father was a sure sign that I was not in good standing with family. I had hung up a rather sad looking wreath I found propped up by a dumpster a few days before. It wasn't much, but neither was the apartment. I placed one of my favorite drawings of Jude in the center. It made me feel happy, so I put up a few more. Soon, almost the entire wall was covered in my drawings of the fox (well, the clean ones, just in case the landlord paid a visit). It was something to get lost in when I needed it.

A few weeks passed. School had started again, which helped crack the desperate loneliness and isolation of being stuck in my apartment. As warm as the drawings made me feel, they were no match for actual interaction with live bodies. I was having trouble finding a better apartment in my price range that had an open spot in the middle of the school year. Unfortunately for me, no one had died over the winter break.

My sentence of solitude was most apparent after classes, when I had to return to my sickly yellow walled cell. Since it was early in the semester still, homework was light, so, I found myself laying on my cot a lot, staring at the wall of foxes I had set up. It had become a sort of strange shrine to my memories of him. I'd occasionally draw a new one and post it up with the others. I suppose it would have been a hard thing to explain if anyone ever saw it, but since visitors weren't really in my future, I kept them up for my own sanity. It was a cheap escape from a reality that didn't suit me well.

I didn't know how long I had been staring at the wall, picturing the fox being held close to me, but the sky had darkened when my cell phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out. It was my father. I stared at the glowing screen and realized that it was my birthday.

My stomach sank and my arms went numb as I tried to decide what to do.

"Hello?" I asked, realizing I had already brought the phone to my ear.

"Darrick, do you have time to talk?"

I paused for a second. "Yes."

"I... I don't really know what to say."

How many ways can you wish me a happy birthday? The connection wasn't great, so his voice had a distracting crackle to it.

"I should have called before" his fuzzy voice continued. "But I just can't figure out what to say... I thought we had fixed this before."

I didn't say anything. I just felt sick. I felt frozen.

"I don't know what to do, Darrick. I gave you the best I could, and now all of... this." There was a long pause. I felt like crying, but the tears wouldn't come. "I'm disappointed. In both of us. I should have done more."

My voice gave a sharp crack, but words wouldn't come out.

"I haven't told your sister. She doesn't need to know. No one needs to know. Sometimes mistakes are made, Darrick. I don't want you to ruin your whole life on one dumb mistake. You're better than that. You're not one of them. We gave up too much for you to go back. Where are you staying now?"

"In..." my voice cracked again. "In a week-by-week place near campus."

"Ok. I'll help pay for that for now. But, look for a real apartment. I think your days with fraternities are over. This isn't what I had envisioned for you."

There was a long pause.

"Get a real apartment. Get a girlfriend. Stop with this... this... stuff. Can you do that for me? Can you get some help?"

"I don't know if I can." I looked up at my wall again. My eyes focused on a picture of Jude smiling over his shoulder.

"Look, Darrick. This is a problem. A big problem. Your sister is going to be going to that school in a few years, and if you ruin our family name there because of your... perversion, there is going to be much bigger problems for you, understand?"

"But..."

"No buts, Darrick. Now, I've told you to get it fixed. Do you know how much money I put into that school you went to? Do you know the sacrifices your sister and I made to afford that place? They didn't give me any discounts just because you were a good student. And you still came out a god damn fag. So, what do I need to do, huh? What the fuck do I need to do to make you stop being a fucking freak? Do you know how much shame you have brought to this family, Darrick? Do you know how much people talk about your mother leaving because of you? Do you know? Huh? ANSWER ME."

"Yes, dad."

"THEN WHY THE HELL DO YOU KEEP DOING IT, DARRICK? DO YOU THINK OF ANYONE BUT YOURSELF? YOU'RE SICK. THERE IS SOMETHING SERIOUSLY WRONG WITH YOU, AND YOU'RE BRINGING THIS WHOLE FAMILY DOWN WITH YOU BECAUSE YOU REFUSE TO CHANGE. DO I NEED TO COME UP THERE AND KNOCK SOME SENSE INTO YOU? WOULD THAT HELP, DARRICK? HUH? ANSWER ME, GOD DAMMIT!"

"No..." My hands trembled as memories of the beatings and the darkness filled my head.

"Then get some GOD DAMN HELP, you fucking faggot, before you destroy everything."

The phone beeped as he hung up.

I let the phone drop as I curled up on the cot. My body felt numb as the tears dripped down my face. The bright bulb above me burned my eyes as I stared at it. I just wanted it all to end.

I don't remember how I got to the liquor store, or how I got back. I only had flashes of memory; little pieces like dumping a crumpled twenty dollar bill and a poorly doctored ID on the counter and me swearing loudly as I dropped the key to the building door. I don't remember drinking half of the bottle, and I don't remember finishing it. I did remember waking up sometime the next day, and repeating the whole thing.

My phone battery went dead as it sat on the floor. I didn't know what time it was or even what day it was. I knew I was missing classes, but it didn't seem to matter much. All that mattered was that I didn't feel anything anymore. That the numbness took over, and the pain stopped.

I imagine it had been about a week or so. I didn't eat much, just whatever liquor was on sale. I threw up a lot. And slept a lot. Nothing seemed real anymore. When the landlord pounded on my door demanding rent for the week, I was lucky enough to be able to still write out a check. My drunkenness didn't seem to faze him much.

It was only after he left that I puked on the carpet. As I mourned the loss of my deposit, I rolled onto the other side of my cot and looked up at the wall of Jude. My eyes moved from drawing to drawing, stopping on some that let me feel something good again. Sometimes, if I stared at it long enough, I could get lost in a memory, a deep memory of sitting with Jude under a tree, his arms wrapped around me, his muzzle gently bumping into the sides of my antlers.

Another mouthful of acidic vomit seeped from me. I thought of what the old porcupine had said when I was standing on that bridge. What would Jude think of me if he knew? I looked up at Jude looking down on me. My eyes welled up, and the pain pulsed in my stomach. I wailed loudly as I curled up on the uncomfortable cot. "Jude, forgive me!" I yelled, trying to keep the room from spinning. "Forgive me Jude..."

I opened my eyes in a room overflowing with sunshine. I slammed them shut and moaned as I became conscious of my body again. I felt like I had fallen down a flight of stairs, but only after sucking the acid from a car battery. I braved the light once more as I carefully cracked one eye open.

A moment of panic struck me as I realized I wasn't in my apartment. I frantically jumped out of the bed and looked around. It was a very generic room. It could have been a hospital room had there been any medical equipment. I crept up to the window, holding my head from the pounding pain which was only made worse by the light. Snow covered the ground except for a winding path between the bare trees. A park? I was up a few stories.

"Where the hell am I?"

I looked down. I was in a light blue cotton shirt and pants. My confusion grew, and I bolted for the door. I needed answers.

My muscles strained against the locked door handle. I could see the empty hall through the small window. My heart raced. Maybe this was all just a nightmare. I slapped myself to see if I could wake up, but the pounding headache confirmed that I was, indeed, conscious. I slid down the wall and onto the floor. That's when I noticed the camera. I stared at its black, lifeless lens eye. Its red light flashed. What had it seen? Why was it there?

I heard a knock on the door.

"Mr. Helm? It's Doctor Leetman. Is it alright if I come in?"

I didn't answer.

"Mr. Helm? Are you alright? I'm coming in."

I heard a beep and a sheep's head popped in, looking concerned. When she turned and saw me sitting on the ground, she seemed relieved.

"Mr. Helm, are you alright? Why are you on the floor?"

"Who... who are you?"

"I'm Doctor Leetman, Mr. Helm."

"Where am I?"

"The Northview Sanitarium."

"I'M IN A FUCKING NUT HOUSE?" I yelled, putting all the pieces together.

"Calm down, Mr. Helm. This is a sanitarium, but not all of our patients are 'nuts'." The sheep reached out and helped me to my feet.

"Why am I here?"

"You checked yourself in a few days ago. You were extremely drunk, and in a hysterical state."

"What did I say?" I anxiously asked, wondering how much information I may have drunkenly spewed into the world.

"Why don't you come sit down with me?" The doctor moved over to the bed and I followed. "You said a lot of things that night, and you said a few more things over the past few days as we've been talking."

"I don't remember any of that."

"It's fairly normal for patients in your situation not to. But, we are here to help you get clean, healthy and sober."

"I'm not a drunk."

"Of course you're not. But, admitting you have a substance abuse problem is the first step to recovery."

"I mean, I don't normally drink. I just... had a really bad week."

"We can focus on that later."

"You don't believe me."

"Mr. Helm, I'll be honest with you. If I let every alcoholic who says they don't have a drinking problem go, I wouldn't have any patients. Often, we find comfort in a lie we tell ourselves because the truth is too painful."

"No, seriously, I don't drink. I just had a bad week. I just needed a drink to stop the pain."

"Our goal is to break you of that habit of relying on alcohol to solve all of your problems."

"It's not all of my problems!" I yelled in frustration, making Dr. Leetman jump. "Just one. One big problem."

"Is it the problem with Jude?" she asked, leaning in and making strong eye contact.

"Yes..." I had spilled it all already.

"It's normal for young males your age to have relationship troubles. You're still trying to figure things out, and so are they. When you have that many hormones, mixed with the stresses of college life, males and females don't often see eye to eye."

"Jude isn't female."

"I'm sorry?" the doctor said, leaning in closer.

"Jude is a male."

"Oh..." she leaned back. "That would clear some things up a bit."

"I just want to feel normal."

"That can be a tough thing to achieve for someone in your position. You need to avoid what makes you do these things. Have you tried fixing it?"

"Fixing?" I looked up at the sheep.

"Yes. Correcting the problem. Changing your attraction to males."

I just stared at her.

"There are many wonderful ways you can become normal again. I'd be happy to write you a recommendation for another counselor. Or, even a camp? I was just reading about one down south that had a major success helping a troubled teen a couple of years ago, a deer, actually, just like you. They turned him into a top honors student. It could really help out."

"I... I think I need to go now."

"Mr. Helm, it's advised that you stay for a few weeks so we can observe you and make sure you don't fall into old habits or struggle with other problems."

"I'm not an alcoholic, and I want to leave NOW."

"I'm afraid I can't recommend that."

I stood up. "I don't care what you recommend, I'm leaving."

"Please sit back down, Mr. Helm."

My eye moved to her badge. I snatched it from her shirt, ran to the door, tapped it to the key pad, bolted out, and slammed the door behind me. The sheep's face filled the small window.

"MR. HELM!! OPEN THIS DOOR!!"

I tossed the name tag down the hall, and started walking quickly away.

"MR. HELM!! ...SHIT!" I heard faintly as I turned the corner.

My mind raced. I needed to get out. I wondered if they'd stop me. I wondered if their cameras were already following me. I didn't have time to wonder. So I ran.

I ran down stairs and hallways, past rooms and more hallways. The building was a maze, and it all looked the same. When I saw the large glass doors, I slowed down. I had foggy memory of me handing over my wallet and keys when I checked in. I walked calmly to the desk.

"Hello, I'd like my things back, I'm checking out," I said, not sure if they'd just hand it all over.

"Feeling better?" the receptionist said, her ears perking up to match her high voice.

"Much, thank you."

"I'll just need your name."

"Darrick Helm."

She popped back behind a wall. My finger nervously tapped against the desk. It seemed too long for just picking up a wallet and keys. Maybe they were on to me. Maybe I should just cut my losses and make a run for it. I could just get a new key and ID. Every second seemed like an hour. My eyes wandered around the lobby. It was oddly empty. I locked eyes with the guard standing by the door. He gave me a funny look. I gave him a smile. He smiled back.

"I just need to confirm your identity with your birthday, now," the perky receptionist said, making me jump.

"January sixteenth, nineteen-eighty-nine."

"Happy late birthday! Now, just sign here," she said, pushing a clip board at me.

I picked up the pen, and saw someone run into the lobby.

"MR. HELM!" the frazzled looking sheep said as two other doctors ran up behind her.

I reached over the desk, grabbed my wallet and keys and bolted towards the door. The security guard had already started running towards me. My hooves clacked on the tile floor as I swiftly moved towards freedom, and right as the guards paws reached out, a twist of my hoof and I zig-zagged away and out the door. I ran and ran and ran. I ran like I ran from the camp. I ran like I had never run before. I ran until my feet gave out in a park, and I hauled myself up onto a bench.

The bright sun offered the faintest warmth to me in the bitter winter air. My body heat began to blow away with the frozen wind. I wondered how many eyes were on me in my hospital attire out in the snow. They were scrubs, I told myself as I panted, watching the puffs of breath fill the air. I'm in nursing school. No reason to not believe that.

When my breath finally returned, I reclined back on the bench. The cold had begun to make me shiver. I had to move again. I had been in this park before; it wasn't far from my apartment. I began my way home, and my mind strayed.

'I need to avoid what makes me do this.'

That sentence rolled around in my head. I felt like I had tried that already. I had tried avoiding thoughts of Jude. I had tried to cut away that part of my life. But it kept coming back. Why did it always come back? Why could I not just move on and be happy? That had to be the key. Everyone was telling me. My dad, my classmates, this doctor. I need to avoid it. I need to stop it. I need to quit thinking of Jude. He is dead to me. He has ruined my life over and over again. He is the addiction I need saving from, and I will do anything to keep me from craving him again. I need to cut it all away. No more. Done.

When I got to the apartment, I stood in front of the wall of drawings. I reached out and crumpled one up, letting it drop to the ground. Then I crumped another. And another. I grabbed fistfuls of the fox, ripping them and throwing them on the ground in shreds. I stomped on the pieces, letting my dirty hooves smear them. I crumpled them up into a large wad, tossed it in the garbage can, and poured a half finished bottle of red wine over it all. The paper soaked up the deep red liquid until it was an unrecognizable heap of mess. It was over. He was gone. I stood, breathing heavily over the trash can, watching the paper slowly dissolve.

This was the only way I could be happy.