One of my goals this summer was to write a Joe alternate universe fic...this is it.

Almost

My fingers brushed over the dingy stripes of my armband; I rocked along with the crickety bus, accidentally bumping into the "fag" right by me. I mumbled a sorry and scooted closer to the window.

I got a ticket last week just for walking along the street. I haven't eaten since yesterday morning at the shelter. I haven't seen Brad in six days. I have no one to talk to; all my friends are either in jail or dead. Brad is the only person I have left. And he left me.

"I can't do this anymore. I don't want to live my life in danger."

"They already know, Brad. There's nothing you can do."

"Yes, there is. If I get caught, I'll only have the primary violation. Choosing to escape my illness will save me from a death sentence."

"If you're going to jail, wouldn't be better to live your life the way it should be, not giving in to all the pressure in this world? Wouldn't you rather be happy and die, than be miserable and go to jail for life?"

"No..because I'm not so sure I'd be miserable without you."

This is the second Holocaust, yet no one is catching on. For six years, it's been hell on Earth. Why isn't someone helping us?

I was indicted three years ago; Brad, five. For two years, we lived in secret. I never stayed at his house; he never stayed at mine. We never went out together in public; he couldn't leave the house anyway without getting harassed, sometimes beaten to a pulp. I remember once, he showed up at my doorstep in the middle of the night, head bleeding and countless bruises all over his body. I carried him in and laid him on my bed, going back to double-lock the door and close all the curtains. I returned to my bedroom to find him puking in the trash can, blood sloshing down with vomit as he sobbed. Of course I cleaned his wounds, stripped him of his bloody clothes, and scooped him into my arms. All night that night, he cried, and I held him, whispering sweet nothings in his ear to try to calm him down. Then morning came; he borrowed my clothes, reattached his armband, and left.

That was before I was noted in the list.

Sometimes, in the dead of the night, I miss those days. I was almost free...I had someone to take care of...I kept my job...I was allowed into restaurants. But then I remember the fear, the dread that crept up deep in me when I walked past a services agent. It was almost better back then; almost.

The bus creaked to a halt, and about twenty "regs" left, freeing some seats in the front. The creepy guy next to me stood up to take a seat in the very front; he didn't notice when more people came on. I looked out the window so I wouldn't watch...but I did anyway.

Three buff guys in college hoodies came on and surrounded the poor guy. He cowered in fear as they yelled obscenities.

Fag.

Worthless.

Homo.

Animal.

Trash.

They picked him up by the shirt so he was dangling a foot in the air. They shoved him down the aisle, and he landed on his back by my seat. I looked up at the guys to see them sitting and relaxing, laughing like nothing just happened.

I scooted closer to the window so the guy could have room. I nodded slightly to him, before quickly turning back to the window so as not to raise hell.

My stop came ten minutes later. I managed to get off the bus with only a few obscene names ringing in the air and a burning sensation in my shoulder where they had pushed me against the wall.

I don't want to live anymore. I just want to disappear, never look back on this Earth again. My pain is unbearable, yet they have drilled into my head--successfully--that I deserve it. That somehow justifies the pain; then I realize what I've become.

I hate myself. I hate the way I am. I hate how no matter how hard I try, I can't change. I am the way I am, and I hate this world for prosecuting me for it. No one deserves this pain; no one should have to go through this pain. I'm ending my feeling. I'm ending my life.

I walked closer to my destination and looked around; no one was here. I ripped off my armband and pulled out a tent post from my jacket. I nailed my band to the ground below me, taking a step closer to my destination.

Fag.

Worthless.

Homo.

Animal.

Trash.

"I'm not so sure I'd be miserable without you."

I jumped, and for a few brief moments, I felt like I was flying. For a few brief moments, I almost felt happy. Almost.

....

The armband innocently fluttering in the wind:

Joseph Hahn

Born March 20, 1977

Los Angeles, California

Homosexual

On another note, I've finished AHG after almost a year.