Can't Fight This Feeling

Chapter One: Homecoming

Connor Harris had left his hometown of Valentine Island eight years ago and had planned to never return. Eight years and the things that he had been through were what had shaped him into who he had become. There had only been one place that ever felt like home to him, and that had been with his best friend Korbin.

His plans to never return to Valentine Island had quickly changed when he received a phone call from the island’s attorney to inform him that his mother had died. It had been eight years since he had been back to Valentine Island and even longer than that since he had even seen his mother. There were two reasons the attorney had called him, and one of them was that his mother had no life insurance, so it was up to him to cover the cost of his mother’s funeral.

Celia Harris had been a horrible mother to him, and there was no way he was going to pay for a funeral for her. Cremation was the cheaper option, and then he would have to figure out what he wanted to do with his mother’s remains.

That had only been part of the reason for the call. The attorney informed Connor that he had inherited everything that his mother owned since he was an only child and his mother had no other known living relatives. He could have easily ignored it all, and the house and the island would have taken it, sold it, and used the money for his mother’s funeral and done whatever else they wanted to do with the rest of the money.

Connor had been hit with a series of unfortunate events over the last month. He found himself unemployed for the first time since he was sixteen. He found himself pretty much homeless and staying with different friends. He had found himself single for the first time in five years. The money he would get from selling the house would help him start a new life somewhere else. He didn’t plan on returning to Atlanta because there wasn’t anything left for him there now. Valentine Island wasn’t going to become his home either because there were too many depressing memories there.

There was one person who could have talked him out of leaving the island eight years ago, and that was his best friend Korbin St. John. Connor had waited for Korbin to call him for days. He had even tried to call Korbin several times, but it was always busy. He did that up until he left the island and headed to Atlanta to start his new life.

"I wonder what Korbin is doing these days?"

Eight years later and he still couldn’t help but wonder how Korbin was doing and what his life had been like over the last eight years. Had his life been as tumultuous as Connor’s had been? He couldn’t help but wonder if Korbin had gone through with the plans that the two of them had made together. Connor had tried to locate Korbin on social media over the years but had no luck.

"Finally."

He pulled into the driveway of his childhood home. It had been ten years since he had stepped foot in that house, and he could only imagine what the inside of it looked like now. If the outside of the house was anything to go by, the inside had to be even worse.

"Home sweet home."

His voice dripped with sarcasm as he looked out the windshield of the car.

The front yard reminded him of the city dump with all of the trash in the flower beds and weeds that were growing up around the house. Connor had taken care of the flower beds and the yardwork when he had lived with his mother. It had been a coping skill that had helped him deal with his dad’s death. His dad had always been the one to tend to the flower beds and yard, so it helped Connor feel close to his dad every time he worked in the yard.

The flower beds that had once been on each side of the front door were only recognizable because Connor had once lived there. To anyone else, they would have only seen a bunch of trash bags filled with trash tossed out someone’s front door and had been there so long that weeds had started to sprout out of the bags.

Connor’s dad had shown him everything he knew about gardening. The yard had been immaculate when his dad was alive, and he even won some competitions. His dad had owned a tour company, and during the off-season when the business was slow, he had done landscaping.

The house was a single-storied home. The gray brick of the house had years of weathering and neglect on it, with mold growing on some of the bricks. He thought it was something that could possibly just be pressure washed and made to look new again. The blue shutters that had been around the windows had mostly fallen off and were on the ground. The windows that still had shutters on them had shutters that looked like they were going to fall off any time.

Connor had no idea how code enforcement hadn’t fined his mother. The only thing he could think of was that they had fined her, and she hadn’t paid any of the fines, then he would be the one responsible for them. He remembered from the nineteen years he had lived on the island, code enforcement had been pretty strict so that the island remained clean and presentable. After all, one of the major sources of income for the island was tourism. Unless they had and she still owed them, then it would be on him to cover the fines.

He knew that if his mother were still alive, she would have blamed him for how bad the yard looked. She would have used a sob story about how her only son had abandoned her and he should have helped her with the yard work since he was a vibrant young man. She had always had a way of making people feel sorry for her.

If only they had known what had gone on behind closed doors of the house. There had only been two people that had known what had really happened behind the closed doors of the house. Korbin had known about it, but Connor had begged him not to say anything, then later Korbin’s mother Sherri had found out about it when he had gone to live with them. The time that he lived with Korbin and his mother had been the happiest time of his life until it was no more.

After his dad had died, things started to go downhill for him. His mother blamed him for his dad’s death any chance she got. She asked him why he had survived and her husband had been taken away from her. What kind of mother would speak like that to their only son? Celia Harris, that’s who.

Connor got out of his car and looked at the house. He sighed loudly as he thought about how much work it was going to take to get the house to the point where he could sell it. A peek through the window was all it took for him to realize how bad the inside of the house was. The windows had boxes stacked in front of them, and he couldn’t even see inside the house.

The front door was covered in rust spots that reminded him of the bullet holes in Bonnie and Clyde’s Death Car. He brushed his finger over one of the rust spots to see how bad it was, but as soon as his finger got to the center of the rust spot, it caved in. His finger went through the door, and he could feel the jagged edges of the metal cutting his finger.

"Damn it!"

His immediate reaction was to quickly pull his finger out of the hole, which only caused the metal to dig deeper into his finger. Blood dripped from the cut on his finger. He shook his finger to try to shake the pain away, but all it did was spatter the door with his blood.

"Holy shit, that hurt!" He looked down at his finger. "Thank God I had my tetanus shot."

Connor wrapped his finger tightly into the bottom of his shirt and squeezed it with his other hand in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Even though he had a first aid kit in his car, he didn’t even attempt to go get it. He knew himself too well and knew that if he went back to his car, he would leave the house.

Connor had always known that his mom had some mental health issues, but he didn’t realize how bad they were until his dad died. He had tried to talk his mom into getting help, but she insisted that she was just fine. After he had learned more about his mixed culture, he knew that it was just how most Mexicans were. They didn’t believe in going to the doctor for mental health issues.

The day that his mom had tried to kill him was a day that he could never purge from his memory. It was also the last day that he had spent at the house with his mother.

He couldn’t help but think back on the day that it had all happened.

Ten Years Ago..

Connor was lying on his bed, his left arm behind his head and his right arm holding his cell phone up to his ear. He was making plans for the weekend, a time he always looked forward to. How many days he stayed over the weekend all depended on what kind of mood Korbin’s mother was in. Korbin had been the only one who knew the truth about what went on in Connor's house. He was the only person Connor trusted, aside from his other close friend, Bryce.

Connor and Korbin had known each other since kindergarten, but they became best friends when they were fourteen, right after Connor's dad passed away. In their small class, there weren't many who had experienced the loss of a parent. Korbin was the only one who understood what it meant to lose a father, and they bonded over their shared grief.

"So, I think it will be great," Korbin finished. "You still game?"

Connor and Korbin were so in sync that they often finished each other's sentences. They could communicate with just their facial expressions and eye movements.

Connor nodded, a habit he couldn't break, especially when talking to Korbin. Korbin had a way of pulling him out of his funk, and his laughter was like medicine for Connor's soul.

"Yeah! I can't wait to see it. It sounds like it's going to be a pretty good movie," Connor exclaimed.

Korbin's laughter filled Connor's ears, contagious and uplifting. It was one of the few things that could cheer him up when he was feeling down.

"You were nodding your head again, weren't you?" Korbin chuckled.

Connor's grin widened, and he laughed along with Korbin. Korbin knew him too well.

"That is true, my friend.” A grin spread across Connor’s face.

“That's why we are the best of the best," Korbin replied, Connor's smile growing at the mention of being Korbin's best friend. He had never had a best friend before, and it meant the world to him.

"Then after the movie or before, we can go-kart, your choice. It's my treat," Korbin suggested.

Connor shrugged, not caring about the activity as long as they were together. He was happiest when he was with Korbin, even if it meant embarrassing himself at the batting cages.

"You just shrugged your shoulders again, didn't you?" Korbin teased.

"Maybe," Connor laughed. "It doesn't matter to me what we do. I'm cool with whatever you wanna do."

"Cool beans. We'll do that on Saturday. I have to do some cleaning after school on Friday. You can come hang with me, and we can grab something to eat after," Korbin said.

Connor glanced at his bedroom door when he heard the doorknob shake. He was relieved he had locked it. The lock was one of the last things his dad had done before he died. It was meant for his privacy, but it was what he used to keep his mother from coming into his bedroom.

His mother's drinking was nothing new to Connor. He had dealt with it since the night of his dad's funeral when she first acted up. The lock would hold her, but for how long, he didn't know. Celia Harris would find a way inside if she wanted to.

"Connor, you open this damn door now!" Celia's slurred speech reached his ears.

Connor hoped Korbin hadn't heard any of that, but he knew he did from the fear in his voice. He had sworn Korbin to secrecy, fearing that if authorities got involved, he would end up in foster care. The thought of losing Korbin and being separated was unbearable.

"Yeah, I'm good," Connor reassured Korbin.

"What was that?" Korbin asked, concern evident in his voice.

Connor's bedroom door swung open, the doorknob leaving a hole in the sheetrock. Celia stood in the doorway, her appearance disheveled and filthy. She smelled of liquor and cigarettes, and Connor's heart sank.

"Get out, Mom!" Connor pleaded.

"Connor, are you okay?" Korbin's voice shook with terror.

Connor's eyes darted towards the door, plotting his escape. He couldn't let Korbin hear any more, but he couldn't hang up either.

"I don't know. Just don't hang up, please. Okay?" Connor pleaded.

"I won't. I promise," Korbin assured him.

Celia walked into Connor's room, her stench growing stronger. Connor jumped off the bed as she lunged at him, her arms outstretched. He glanced at the door, searching for a way out.

"It should have been you!" Celia shouted, pointing a dirty finger at Connor.

Her fingernails were long, with dirt caked up under them. Her nails were stained with something black that she hadn't bothered to wipe off. Her eyes were huge as she glared at him with a maniacal look on her face.

"Mom, please don't do this!" Connor pleaded, clutching his phone tightly to his ear. His eyes darted around his bedroom as he started to back away from his mother. He tried not to show his fear, no matter how scared he truly was.

"What's going on, Connor?" Korbin's panicked voice echoed through the phone. Korbin had never witnessed any of Celia's madness before. Connor considered ending the call to spare Korbin from hearing the conversation, but he knew the consequences if he hung up.

Celia continued to advance towards him, and all Connor could do was keep backing away. His eyes searched for a clear path to his door as he stopped moving, feeling his back pressed against the wall. The closer his mother got, the stronger the smell of liquor on her breath became.

"This is my house, little boy, and I can do anything I damn well please!" Celia slurred her words, drawing her hand back and slapping Connor across his face. Korbin gasped upon hearing the slap through the phone. Connor knew it would leave a bruise, regardless of his dark skin. Celia didn't care about bruises; she didn't seem to care about him at all. And for the first time, Connor realized she probably never would.

"Connor?" Korbin's voice filled with worry and concern. He never hid his disdain for Celia, calling her a disgusting, vile woman who didn't deserve a son like Connor. Korbin had even offered for Connor to come live with him, promising to find a way to keep him out of Child Protective Services. But Connor knew it wouldn't be that easy.

"Connor, I'm coming over there," Korbin declared, his movements audible through the phone. The jingle of keys, followed by the sound of footsteps and screeching tires, indicated Korbin was on his way to Connor's house.

"Who the fuck are you talking to?" Celia's hands darted out, attempting to grab Connor's cell phone, but he slapped it away. This only fueled her anger further. She wasn't used to Connor talking back or standing up for himself. He had reached his breaking point, and he couldn't take it anymore.

"It's Korbin," Connor replied, his voice trembling.

"I should have fuckin' known," Celia shouted. "You're always talking to that queer boy! You two disgust me."

Celia spat on Connor, and he was relieved it landed on his shirt rather than his face. If it had hit his face, he would have vomited all over her. The stench of her breath already made him nauseous. She then wrapped her hand around his throat and slammed his head against the wall, cracking the sheetrock and leaving a hole. Connor struggled to break free, but the more he fought, the tighter her grip became.

Dizziness overcame him as oxygen became scarce. His hand slipped away from his ear, but he managed to press the speaker button on his phone before Celia knocked it out of his hand.

"¡Me das asco! ¡Maldito pedazo de basura asqueroso! ¡Deberías estar muerto! ¡Maricón asqueroso!" Celia's rage caused her to revert to speaking in Spanish, her native tongue. Connor understood her words, but he couldn't reply as he gasped for air.

"I'm down the road, Connor!"

"¡Maricón!"

Celia glanced down at Connor's phone, which she had knocked onto the carpet. She said nothing more, instead using her foot to kick his phone under the bed. Her grip tightened around his throat, and he desperately grabbed her hands, trying to pry them away. Her dirty fingernails dug into his neck, causing his skin to burn as her grip tightened.

She had threatened to kill him countless times, and she had wished for his death just as often. But she had never attempted it. As he struggled to breathe, Connor realized his mother would never change. She was supposed to take care of him, not the other way around. There was no way she would ever love him the way a mother should love her son.

Connor’s trip down memory lane came to a sudden halt when he heard the Star Wars ringtone coming from his phone he had stashed into his pocket. He kept his finger wrapped in his shirt to continue to stop the bleeding and used his other hand to pull his phone out of his pocket and answer it.

The number was a local number for Valentine Island and there was only one place on the island that he was expecting a call from. That was the funeral home that had his mom’s ashes.

“Hello.”

“Is this Connor Harris?”

The voice belonged to a woman with a slight southern accent. He could tell that she hadn’t lived on the island for her entire life. He hadn’t lived there in eight years and still had a strong southern accent; he was just good at hiding it until he got excited.

“Yeah, this is Connor.”

Connor sat down on the front steps of the house. This just gave him a chance to avoid going inside the house which he had dreaded from the moment he found out that he was now the owner of the house. He unwrapped his finger from his shirt and inspected it closely to see if the bleeding had stopped.

The bleeding had stopped and he looked down at his blue t-shirt and saw dark stains at the bottom of it. There was no way the stains were going to come out of his shirt, but he could just use it as a shirt when he cleaned the house. He would get dirty for sure and didn’t want to ruin every piece of clothing he owned.

“Hi Connor, this is Sidney Macdonald at the Macdonald Family Mortuary. I was just calling to let you know that your mom’s remains are ready to be picked and have been placed in the urn that you chose.”

When he was asked what he wanted her cremated remains in, he told them a cardboard box, the funeral director had thought it was some sort of dark sense of humor as a way of grieving. Connor had been completely serious, because he wasn’t going to grieve her. A cardboard box was all she deserved. He knew that if he was in her shoes, she would have just thrown him into the ocean and let him float away. Instead he went with the cheapest urn that was available at the funeral home.

“Thanks for letting me know.”

Celia’s remains were the last thing that was on Connor’s mind. The first thing he had to do was figure out where he was going to stay while he worked on cleaning the house and getting it ready to sell. There was no way that he would stay in that house after just looking through the window. He had his work cut out for him.

“Were you planning on having a memorial service?” She asked him. “If you would like, I can help you arrange that.”

“Nope.” Connor laughed. “Even if I did, no one would come to it.”

“Do you remember me?” She asked.

Connor shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. Even after all these years, it was a habit that hadn’t gone away. Unlike Korbin, she had no idea that he was doing it. He couldn’t help but wonder if he saw Korbin, would they be able to communicate like they used to? Would they even recognize each other?

With how the two of them had parted ways, he doubted that Korbin would even speak with Connor. After eight years, Korbin had probably forgotten that Connor ever even existed. Connor still had the last letter that Korbin had written to him explaining how he felt.

“The name sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.”

“Sidney. Sidney, the one your dad thought you were going to marry.”

When she said that, it dawned on him exactly who it was that he was talking to. The two of them had been best friends throughout elementary school and into high school. Sidney moved when they were in the eighth grade after her family moved to St. Louis. They had kept in touch for a while, but they had eventually lost touch with each other.

“You’re back?”

Connor stood up from where he had been sitting on the front porch. He dusted off the back of his shorts and leaned against one of the pillars that supported the roof of the front porch.

“Yeah, I’ve been back for about seven years now.” She paused. “Listen, if you need anything, contact me. I think it would be great if maybe we could hang out sometime and catch up.”

“That would be pretty cool.”

Connor started to pace on the concrete slab in front of the steps. It was a habit of his that seemed to drive most people crazy and make them nervous. His ex, Shawn, hated it when he paced and said that it made him nervous.

“I’m not going to have much time though. I haven’t been in this house yet, but I am sure it's going to take forever to clean it out.”

“Well, I have to go. Someone just came in. If you need anything else, Connor, don’t hesitate to contact me. I am here Monday through Friday from eight in the morning until five o’clock. You can message me on F******k too.”

“Thanks, Sid.”

Connor slid his phone back into his pocket. He pulled his keys out of his other pocket and found the one that he was looking for. His mom was too lazy to change the locks after he left, so he was pretty sure the key he had when he had lived there would still work. He even had the key to his bedroom door still on the keyring.

He took several deep breaths before he unlocked the door and slowly pushed it open. He only managed to get the door open a few inches before the putrid stench from inside the house filled his nostrils. The house had been sealed off for weeks, and it didn’t mix well with the Georgia heat.

The door didn’t open all the way, barely enough for him to stick his head through. He could see enough of the living room to see all the boxes that had fallen over. They were everywhere, and it looked like a stack of them had fallen over and was what was keeping the front door from opening all the way.

Connor studied the door to find a spot that wasn’t covered in rust. If he was going to force the door open, the last thing he needed was to slam against the door with his hip and get cut.. He looked at the door and rammed it hard with his hip. The door swung further open but still wouldn’t open all the way.

He gave the door another push.

Glass shattered as the door slammed against the wall behind it. He stepped into the house and pinched his nose closed with his index finger and thumb. The smell was even worse inside the house than it was on the outside. How could anyone live in that filth? The inside of the house was so bad that it made the houses of the people on the show Hoarders look clean.

There was no rhyme or reason to the madness his mother had going on in the living room. One corner of the living room had nothing but trash bags piled up, and he could tell it was trash from the liquid that oozed out of the bags and onto the carpet. She had another pile of junk that was a mixture of plastic totes and cardboard boxes stacked together.

"What a dumb bitch."

The fact that she had plastic totes stacked in the middle of cardboard boxes, crushing them and causing many of the stacks to fall over, infuriated him. He quickly jumped out of the way when he saw one of the stacks of boxes teetering toward him.

The Star Wars ringtone of his phone filled the room, but he didn’t bother to see who it was calling. He had way too much that he needed to worry about, and talking on the phone was the last thing on his mind. If it was important, they would leave him a voicemail, or better yet, they would send him a text.

Rats had chewed through the cardboard boxes, and they were probably inside them. No wonder the stacks were so unstable; part of the cardboard was missing. He didn’t see any furniture in the living room, but where the furniture had been when he had lived there was a mound of clothes, which he assumed the furniture was hidden somewhere beneath.

"This is disgusting."

The carpet, which at one point was beige, was now black, stained with oil that his mom had tracked in from her dumpster diving. There was no way that anything in that house could have been salvaged, even if he had wanted to.

His phone started to ring again, but he ignored it. He was too busy pondering the best way he could clean out the house. He knew that he would need a dumpster, probably more than one since he hadn’t even looked at the bedrooms yet.

When his phone rang a third time, Connor angrily jerked it from his pocket and looked at the caller ID. He was already sure he knew who it was. There was only one person that would call him three times in a row like that. Shawn’s name flashed across the screen. He was the last person that Connor had wanted to talk to. He had nothing left to say to his ex-boyfriend. He silenced it, but before he could even put his phone back in the pocket of his shorts, it rang again.

“What the hell do you want! Any normal human being would have realized after the first three back-to-back calls I didn’t want to talk to you. I have nothing left to say to you Shawn, why can’t you get that through your thick ass skull!”

The smell of the house started to get to him since he could only hold his breath for so long. He was sure to add face masks to the list of supplies he had started to make in his head. Connor quickly walked outside and took a huge breath of fresh air before he had the chance to vomit. He just needed Shawn to get it through his head that things were over between them.

“That’s no way to talk to the love of your life.”

Shawn was serious. Connor had broken up with him over a month ago, and Shawn still wouldn’t accept it. Shawn was the one who caused the breakup. If it wouldn’t have been for his actions, they would have still been together.

“Get it through your thick skull, Shawn, you aren’t the love of my life anymore!” He was seething with anger. “We are finished, do I need to spell it for you?”

Shawn had already called Connor so many times he had lost count just during the time he had been on his way to Valentine Island. Connor had only answered one of the calls, and it was to tell Shawn to stop calling him.

“We have five years together, babe.” Shawn pleaded. “Please just give me a second chance.”

“Shawn, stop calling me! Stop texting me! We. Are. Done. D-O-N-E!”

“Come on, Connor.” Shawn pleaded. “Just give me a second chance.”

Breathe in and breathe out. Breathe in and breathe out. Connor repeated the words in his head to try and tame his temper. His right hand clenched around his phone while he opened and closed his left hand with anger.

“I will give you a second chance when it’s a cold day in hell. You cheated on me with only God knows who, and you gave me a fucking STD. You had better be glad it was curable, or else I swear to God, I would have cut off your dick and shoved it so far down your throat you would have shit it out a week later.”

Shawn only laughed and didn’t even realize how serious the situation was. He had slowly developed into a cold, snarky asshole toward the end of their relationship. He had become a completely different person compared to the one that Connor had met five years earlier.

“You wouldn’t do that to your favorite toy. You know you want to ride this big dick. You’re gonna miss it.”

Shawn laughed again. Connor had thought that Shawn had been the one at one point. The two of them had been happy, but within the last year everything had started to go south. His behavior became erratic, and he became verbally abusive.

“You gave me a sexually transmitted disease, asshole. You really think I would let you bring your dick anywhere near me again!”

“How do I know it wasn’t you that gave me an STD?”

That was exactly what Shawn had been doing over the last year. He would take whatever Connor said to him and twist it around so that it was all Connor’s fault.

“Really, Shawn?” Connor shouted. “Could it have something to do with the fact that you are the only guy I’ve ever had sex with? I never cheated on you. I loved you at one point.”

Shawn burst out into laughter. He failed to see the seriousness of the situation, something he had started to do. Connor was just glad he got out whenever he did.

“Sex with you wasn’t even that great.”

Shawn’s tone seethed with anger. He had been teetering on the edge of bursting into one of his tantrums that he had started to have. He was starting to show the true colors of the man he had become over the last year.

“Sex with you was too vanilla anyhow. You wanted to do the same position all the time, and it got real old real fast. Good luck finding somebody that will put up with that.”

“Fuck you, Shawn!” Connor held the phone in front of his face and shouted. “Lose my number, Shawn. If you call me again, I will change my number.”

Connor didn’t give Shawn a chance to say anything back to him. He pressed end and cut off the conversation. He didn’t find himself attractive, so he didn’t know why anyone else would either. He thought that Shawn just wanted him back because he hated to lose.

Connor couldn’t get over the fact that Shawn thought he would ever consider getting back with him. His mood could change so fast as soon as he didn’t get what he wanted. Their conversation would have only gotten more heated if Connor wouldn’t have hung up the phone.

Shawn had never been physically abusive with Connor, no matter how angry he had gotten. He had been overly protective when it came to Connor’s physical safety. It had just been the mental anguish that had started to make things go bad before Connor even found out Shawn was cheating on him.

“Good riddance.”

Connor walked back to his car and started to add the figures up in his head. He was on a limited budget and needed to know how much it would cost him to rent the dumpsters and everything else he needed to clean. There was nothing in the house that he wanted to keep, so it was all thrown in the dumpster where it belonged.

Growing up with a hoarder for a mother, he had become a minimalist to prevent himself from turning into his mother. That was one of the reasons he had let Shawn gladly keep everything when he had left. The only thing Connor had kept was his car since it was in his name only.

He had a list of things that he needed to get done, and the number one thing was for him to sell the house. He had no permanent residence and planned on using the money to start over fresh somewhere that wasn’t Atlanta and wasn’t Valentine Island. The house meant nothing to him and was nothing more than a thorn in his side. It was full of nothing but horrible memories that he wanted to get away from as soon as possible.