Page 28 of Tell Me I'm Enough

It’s almost two in the morning, and I’m stuck in a piss-smelling basement with ten other guys who are all down here, embarrassing themselves, begging to belong to a stupid ass house.

The upperclassmen circle us like prey, wearing masks that cover their faces, and shirts with big Greek letters that glow under the black light.

I don’t think you could find an ounce of human decency down here if you tried. They don’t care about us or the “brotherhood” right now; they’re just here to humiliate us and prove some kind of weird dominance over us.

The game is to beat you down, and see how far they can push you just for you to earn your spot—a spot I couldn’t care less about, honestly.

If it wasn’t for my dad’s weird obsession with this school, this fraternity, and his need to constantly relive his past because he’s so miserable in life now, I wouldn’t be here. I’d find somewhere else to belong.

This is downright degrading and just sad.

But for some reason, fraternities are a lifelong connection in the world of business. To me, it’s just a stamp on your forehead that you’ve always been a douche.

We’re all lined up, stripped down to our boxers, standing shoulder to shoulder in the almost pitch-black room. It smells like sweat, beer, and shallow personalities.

I’ve perfected being numb, not caring, and not letting anything get under my skin my entire life, so this part should be easy. I’m just ready for the weird ritual shit to be over with and to end this night with a lot more drinks in me.

One of the frat guys, the president of the house, I think—Tanner—walks back and forth in front of us with a bat in his hand, dragging it along the floor as he speaks.

“You boys think you can just walk in here, wear our letters, drink our beer, and fuck our girls without paying your dues first?”

“No, sir,” all the guys yell in unison.

I’m sorry, I didn’t get the memo. Was I supposed to do that too?

I’m really trying not to laugh at how seriously they’re all taking this. It’s so fucking weird. But hey, whatever.

Tanner stops in front of me, glaring for a moment before picking up the bat and putting it on my chest. “What about you, Sinclair? Think you’re better than everyone here or something?Daddy’s name and money might have gotten you in those doors, but you won’t stay here without showing some respect.”

I stare past him, trying not to look as annoyed as I feel. “No, sir,” I say flatly.

“I’m sorry,” he says, cupping his ear with his free hand. “I didn’t hear that.”

He turns to another one of the upperclassmen who’s standing off to the side. “Did you hear him?”

He shakes his head no, then Tanner turns back to me. “Nobody seemed to hear that, Sinclair. Gonna need you to speak up for us.”

“No, sir!” I say louder, faking whatever level of “respect” he’s looking for.

He laughs. “Better. Now get on your knees with the rest of your brothers and try to prove you’re worth your spot here.”

My knees hit the concrete, and I can feel cold, sticky liquid beneath me.

A couple of the guys start pouring beer on all of us, and it runs down my neck and back, but I keep my head up and just take it.

“Smile, Sinclair,” Tanner says. “You’re the new big football star everyone’s been raving about. Better live up to your reputation around here.” He stops, getting in my face and smiling. “Give us that Texas A&M smile for the cameras.”

There are no cameras down here, just laughter from all the guys standing around. The kind that makes your skin crawl and makes you feel gross, used, and objectified.

Tanner finally takes his attention off of me, and I let out a long breath.

“This is nothing,” A guy standing behind me says. “Just wait.”

The hazing lasted another hour—shots forced down our throats until guys were gagging and throwing up, push-ups untilmy arms wanted to give out, then they made us all stand on the top balcony, and each shout something dumb and humiliating.

When one of the guys got to me, he told me to shout out that my mom was a dirty little whore, and without hesitating, I turned around and punched him in the face. They almost made me leave until I told them my mom was dead.

They stopped fucking with me after that. I’m glad, because I was really close to calling it a night and saying fuck them.