When Rory entered his house, together with Mr. Somers, he was as nervous as the moment he told his family that he liked boys.

Things had gone terribly wrong then.

This felt like the last chance to make things right. Maybe it had just been a lot to process, or maybe he should have been clearer. Maybe he should have stressed that he wished he would fall in love with girls too, and that his feelings wouldn't necessarily lead to a relationship with a boy.

The only thing he had wanted at that moment, was a hug from his father or mother, or from his brothers or sister. A caress through his hair, an encouraging word telling him they understood how hard this was for him, but that they still loved him nonetheless and wanted to help him.

Maybe they just had to recover from the shock. Soon, Mr. Somers would assure them that things weren't that bad, that there were many Christian families which were dealing with this problem, and together they would find a way to live with this.

Lying his hand on the doorknob, he took a deep breath. His stomach cramped up. A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, giving him an encouraging squeeze.

"You're not alone, Rory."

Rory's lip was trembling. Never it had occurred to him that this man who he barely knew would be such great support. "Thank you for coming with me, sir," he said quietly.

The old man offered him a friendly smile. "No one should bear this burden alone. Open the door, boy."

Rory pushed the door open and stepped inside. His parents were sitting on the couch, both sitting straight. Again he was met by disappointed glances, by a hurtful silence.

"Why did you leave the church, Rory?" his father's voice sounded. He didn't even acknowledge Mr. Somers' presence.

Rory dropped his eyes. He didn't know what to answer. That he felt too sinful to stay inside the house of God? That Jonathan had looked mad because he came out of the closet?

"I don't know," he said softly. "I didn't feel welcome anymore."

His mother covered her mouth with her hand as if he'd said something terrible.

"That is the darkness inside you, boy," his father spoke. "As long as you allow these sinful longings, that darkness will only grow. I talked to Jan Berendsen. He can take you to a healing ministry."

His parents never liked healing ministries, they had always described its visitors as attention-seeking people.

"Your son isn't sick," Mr. Somers spoke, laying a hand on his shoulder again. "His orientation just differs from that of most people."

"You can't really believe this nonsense, right?" his father huffed. "This is the devil's work."

Rory flinched. A tear itched down his cheek and brusquely he wiped it away. "I asked God to take these feelings away," he said, his voice shaking. More than anything he wanted to retreat to a corner of the house and disappear, but a part of him was resisting. "But He didn't take them away. At least not yet. But Dad — it's not that I can control the way I feel about people..."

Father heaved a deep sigh. "You have to learn to reject those thoughts, Rory. They will leave eventually. This is just a temptation you have to resist. You're giving in way too quickly."

"Too quickly?!" he called out. Suddenly he could no longer push back his frustration. "It took me two years to confess this! While I'm questioning my orientation much longer. And..."

"Stop using that word, Rory. Orientation. There is no such thing as an orientation. Man and woman were created for each other, it's simple as that."

"It's not!" he yelled. "It's not simple at all! You think I would have struggled so much if it was simple?!"

"It's the media which fills your head with lies."

Mister Somers squeezed his shoulders. "Why don't you go to your room, Rory? Then I will have a talk with your parents."

Rory's whole body was shaking. He didn't know what emotion was stronger, the anger or the sadness. In the end, he turned around and rushed out of the room. The past two days he had pushed his feelings as far away as he could, but now he lost control.

In his room, he sat down on his bed. He took a few deep breaths. Don't cry. Don't cry again. It wasn't like his tears were of any use, they wouldn't solve the problem magically. Instead of letting his emotion drag him along, he folded his hands and closed his teary eyes while he silently started to pray, begging that Mr. Somers would find a way into his parent's hearts.

Nervously he kept waiting on the bed. Far away he heard voices — voices which were becoming harder and harder. A shiver crept down his spine as he realized someone was shouting.

My fault. It's my fault.

Rory descended the stairs.

If Mr. Somers couldn't get through to his parents, would it mean that the man was wrong? Was he indeed so sinful that even God despised him? His stomach churned as he walked closer to the door. Suddenly his feet felt heavy as lead.

"Keep your lies outside these walls!" the voice of his father thundered. "Our Lord will never approve a relationship between two men, the Bible is very clear about it! Longing for a sin is as sinful as sinning itself — and encouraging someone to sin is even worse!"

"With all due respect, but you can't thoughtlessly apply the cultural practices of the Bible to our society. We have also stopped arranging marriages for our children, we don't let our underage daughters marry their rapists and it is neither common to marry your sister-in-law when her husband dies. Why would you discard these rules, but not the others?" The voice of Mr. Somers sounded calm but stern. "Your son is confused, he is sad, he believed he's only a second-rate human being. You should support him, offer him an ear that is willing to listen."

"Don't tell me how to raise my child!" his father barked. "The thought that he would like to touch a boy makes me sick! It won't happen, not in this house! He will take back his words and tell everyone he was wrong, if not he is no longer welcome. He dishonors our family!"

"You are the one dishonoring your family, sir. You created some kind of mold your child is supposed to fit into, and you want to cut off all the characteristics you don't like. That's not how it works. Rory is your son and you owe him your unconditional love, like Jesus taught us to love. Not only the things you like but the whole package."

"Enough! I've heard enough! Poison flows out of your mouth."

"It's not the poison from my mouth that caused your boy to stand at the bridge earlier today, all alone and crying."

A deadly silence fell.

Very quietly, Rory opened the door. His cheeks were wet, he couldn't remember when he had started to cry again.

His parents stared at him, the face of his father as red as his mother's eyes. Rory wrapped his arms around himself, he didn't know what to say.

"You really want me to leave?" he asked quietly.

His mother bent her head and stared at her knees.

"No, my boy. But you do understand you passed judgment on yourself and our family by those absurd statements, right?"

Absurd statements?

He thought about all the hours of doubt that had preceded his confession. It wasn't just some figment of his imagination; it was something real, something that made him who he was. A person he wasn't allowed to be.

"You can't give in, Rory," his mother said quietly. "You have to tell the world you were wrong."

Rory bent his head. That meant that he had to hide. But was that really so bad, if it meant that his parents would be smiling at him again?

"But then I would lie," he answered softly. And one must not lie.

"There is no point in this, Martha." His father wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders. The arm Rory longed for. "He chooses his own pleasures over his family." He looked up. "I don't know what happened to you, Rory, I don't understand how it could have gone so wrong. This however isn't behavior we can approve of. If you want to chase your evil desires, it's something between you and God — but we are responsible for you as long as you live in our house. So you will take back your words and forget about your feelings, or you will leave and acknowledge your own responsibilities."

"Leave?" he repeated in a small voice. "Where will I go? I'm only 18."

Father shrugged his shoulders. "Then you know what to do."

"No," Mr. Somers said all of a sudden. "I think you all need some time to think about the situation. Hiding your feelings is not a solution, not for Rory and not for you. Rory can stay at my house for a while, at least until he graduates."

Confused, Rory looked at the man. He was really grateful for his help — but did he really want to live with the man? Although he might not have a choice... Or would one of his brothers be gentler than their parents?

He didn't even dare to ask them, too afraid to be rejected again.

"Okay," he said quietly. "Then I will grab my stuff."

His parents were silent as the grave.