Jeremy's POV:

"You need to come home. Right. Now," Stephanie tells me in a dark, hate filled voice.

"Hey, what's going on?!" Carter calls, following me toward the door once I've hung up the phone.

I shakes my head as I put on my shoes. "I have to go home. I'm sorry," I say, my voice breaking a bit as I leave the apartment.

I'm not very athletic, but I make it home in record time, breathing heavily once I push the door open.

My entire family, except for Jackie and my youngest sister, Danielle, is in the living room, glaring at me. It slows me down and I stop in the entry area to the living room to catch my breath.

"Did you think we wouldn't recognize that faggot you ran off with?" Dad demands, and I've never heard him sound so angry. "The text messages in which you're flirting with him, letting him touch you at that party, and then running off and spending time at his apartment?! And you thought we wouldn't know?!"

My face burns red. "How did you see my text messages?" I squeak, even though that probably isn't the most important thing to ask right now.

"I took your phone when you were showering," Mom says, her eyes narrow with disgust. "Do you know how horrified you father and I were when we realized that you were talking to the very man that you let tear you away from God?! And you enjoyed it!"

"It took us a few minutes to realize who that man was, and we are so disappointed in you and disgusted by you!" Dad screams at me. "So, you're going to a camp in Alabama to fix you."

My mind connects the dots between what he's saying and implying they're going to do with me. "You're sending me to a conversion camp?!"

"We don't have another choice," Mom says, looking at me like I'm something disgusting she picked off the bottom of her shoe. "You need to be fixed or you're sure to go to Hell."

Something shifts in me and I feel my hands shaking as I dare to glare back at my parents.

"No," I whisper, before repeating it louder. "No."

Dad grabs my arm and drags me toward his office, throwing my body so hard against the wall that my head slams against it and I feel blood run down the side of my face. He grabs his belt and slams it against my back.

"How can you be so foolish?!" he bellows, grabbing my shirt and pulling it up so that my skin is exposed to him as the belt licks my skin again. "You are destroying your relationship with God! You are bringing shame to your family! You are going to that camp so we can save you!"

I scream as he hits me again, and I'm sure welts are forming all over my tender flesh.

"Dad, stop!" I beg, but he ignores me and continues to rant and yell at me.

"We are trying to save you from your disgusting illness!" he shouts, kicking my side and making me vomit on the floor. "We know what's best for you and you will be grateful for our attempts to save you! Do you think God would want you to throw away your life for some dirty, non-Catholic fag?!"

I whimper. "Stop saying that word," I beg, more for Carter than for me.

I don't like Dad speaking bad about him; even if he's choosing to like men over women, he gets to make that decision. It's his life and even if it's going to condemn him someday, I can only pray for him and I should respect his choices.

What happened to treating others how you would like to be treated?

Isn't that a teaching?

Would God even condemn him them? If He wants to be cared for and respected, then would he love Carter regardless of who he chooses to be with?

Or, like Amanda told me, is it even a choice?

Is what I feel for this other man a choice? Or is it a part of me that I will forever have to repress if I want my family to be proud of me?

"I will say whatever I want!" Dad shouts, tearing me away from my inner turmoil. "He has tainted you! He has made you as unholy and broken as he is!"

He hits me again and again with his belt and there is blood dripping down my hand from where I am clutching the wound.

When he's finally had his fill of beating me, he puts his belt back on and kneels down.

"Take this time to pray on your own. The rest of us will be going to confession to pray for you," he whispers, lifting my chin in his calloused hands. "We want to love you and claim you as ours, but we can't if you choose this dark path that is tempting you."

I let out another sob as he leaves me on the floor and closes the door behind him. For twenty minutes, I lay on the floor, scared to even try to move, but I need help.

My phone is still in my pocket, so I grab it.

Initially, my instinct is to call Carter, but I push that horrid thought out of my mind. I will not be going to a conversion camp, but I cannot give into my desires. I'm already letting my family down and I've earned this punishment, but I will not let them send me away.

I've never fought for myself like this, never disobeyed my parents right to their faces, so I don't know what I'm supposed to do.

I dial Amanda's number and as soon as she says my name, I let out a sob.

"I can't move, Amanda. I'm bleeding and they want to send me to a conversion camp," I cry. "Please help me. I'm so scared and I'm so confused."

Amanda assures me that she's on her way and I manage to drag myself toward the front door, hoping that my family doesn't return before she comes to get me.

I use my shirt to soak up some of the blood on my forehead while leaning helplessly against the door.

Why can't I just be normal?

The door opens, and I'm not sure how much time has passed; my head is throbbing and my back hurts so badly. Honestly, I'm not even sure if I've been conscious the whole time because the pain is so great that it's all I'm thinking about.

"Oh, fuck," Amanda whispers. "We need to get you to a hospital, Jeremy."

I shake my head, but the motion hurts. "Nothing is broken," I say, my voice crackly from all of the screaming I did. "I'm just bruised and have welts all over my back. Just please help me get away from here. You don't even have to take me with you. Just get me out of this house."

Amanda glares at me, and it's actually two Amandas glaring at me because my vision is blurred and I'm seeing double right now.

"I'm not leaving you here, Jeremy," she says, gingerly helping me up. "You can't stay in my dorm so you're staying at Carter and Janelle's."

I freeze, nearly falling from the abrupt movement because I'm a bit heavier than Amanda and she has a difficult time catching me.

"I can't stay with them," I say, panic lacing my tone. "Amanda, I can't."

She continues to keep me moving toward her car, which she left running in the driveway. "Yes, and you're going to. I need to call Carter because he was real worried when you called me. He wanted to come with me, and with how much you're not helping me move right now, I wish I brought him."

"Amanda, I can't."

She helps me into the passenger seat, buckling me in so I don't have to move.

"Well, you're not staying here."

I smack the rubber band on my arm against my skin for feeling a bit excited at the idea of spending the night at Carter's apartment.

Amanda doesn't notice, or, if she does, she doesn't say anything.

"Dad wants to send me to a conversion camp," I whisper. "Amanda, I can't go to one of those places. I know they're awful places and I don't want anyone to have to go to one of those."

"You're an adult, so he can't force you."

"I live with my family. Dad controls my life and I've already let him down enough, but I thought confession would be enough for him."

Amanda slams on the breaks and pulls off to the side of the road, making a car fly by us with a honk.

"Jeremy, open your ears right now. You are not sick and you have not let anyone down. Your dad fucking beat you! He has brought more shame than you! He's abusing you! When are you going to wake up?! You can't keep acting like everything is your fault! The church is brainwashing you into believing you're sick and fucked up for your attraction and there's nothing wrong with you!"

She's yelling at me, leaving me leaning against the door to get away from her livid yells.

"I don't want God to hate me," I whisper, tears building up in my eyes.

"Fuck God," she comments, making my eyes widen. "If he wants you to suffer and force yourself to be someone you're not, fuck him."

We drive the rest of the way in silence and stop in front of Carter's house. It's still early afternoon and I'm embarrassed when I notice a lady walking her dog is staring at my awkward, pained movements.

Amanda knocks on the door and Janelle answers, concern covering her face. She ushers us in and Amanda has me lay facedown on the couch and instructs me to take off my shirt.

"What the hell happened?" I hear Carter whisper not-so-quietly. "Who did that to him?"

I hate how warm I feel when I hear the concern in his voice.

"We'll talk about it in a bit," Amanda murmurs. "Can you bandage up his head while I handle the welts? It's not a big wound but it needs to be cleaned and covered."

Carter kneels beside the couch with a first aid kit and smiles gently at me, but I see how worried he is. "You look a lot cuter when you don't have an open head wound," he comments, wiping the dried blood off of my forehead. "This is going to sting."

"You look nicer when your mouth isn't moving," I respond, making him laugh as he dabs something that stings on my wound before he places a bandaid over it.

"There! Cute again."

I blush. "Stop calling me-" I cut myself off with a cry and bury my face in the couch as Amanda starts lathering cream on my back to help the welts.

Carter grabs my hands in his, and I'm in too much pain to pull away. "You can squeeze my hands," he tells me and I give in, gripping his palms and digging my nails into his hands while I cry again.

I'm going to run out of tears at this point.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Amanda chants as she tries to quickly cover the welts. "Okay, they're covered, just lay like that."

"Now... what the hell happened?" Carter asks, sitting on the floor beside me and looking into my eyes.

Why does he have to be so attractive?

I close my eyes and look the other way. "I tripped."

"Tripped into your dad in a bad mood," Amanda mutters. "Carter, Janelle, can he stay here tonight? He's not safe at home and he can't stay in my dorm room."

Carter agrees immediately and I hear Janelle agree.

"We can talk about what happened tomorrow or something," Carter tells me. "Or not at all, until you're ready."

Attractive and considerate.

Awesome.

Make my resolve even harder, why don't you?

"I don't think I'll be ready for a while," I whisper. "Not to talk about everything."

Carter gives me a piteous look. "It's alright. I just want you to be safe."

I want to feel safe as well, but as long as I'm stuck in this state of confusion, my father won't let me live fully safe.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do.