voyager // max mayfield

TWENTY SIX: THERAPY

TW: DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THE FOLLOWING: HOMOPHOBIA, ABUSE, RELIGIOUS TRAUMA, CONVERSION THERAPY OR TRAUMA, MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ABUSE.

"One reason why homosexuals are so rarely cured is that they rarely try treatment. Too many of them actually believe that they are happy and satisfied the way they are."

Eve nodded her head, sat in a seat opposite the therapist she was allocated. She was tired, dead behind the eyes as she listened to this man drone on and on about the benefits of what she was beginning to go through. She had only been there for a couple of days, hoping to god that Steve would find her soon enough and save her. Max must be worried sick, wondering why she never called, she could only hope the Steve had talked to her, but even that wasn't certain. 

"My job here today and over the upcoming weeks is to help you flee from sexual immorality, do you understand what I mean by that?" 

Eve nodded her head again - she didn't, nor did she care to, she just wanted this to be over. It was like she was in a mental hospital. She'd wake up, be in a secluded room for a while, before being brought to a recreational room. you were only allowed to talk to the opposite gender, and even then no one wanted to talk. Why would you? No one was here from their own choice, this place had trauma written all over it. 

"So, to begin this process, we must go over what led you to come here in the first place," he tells her. She stays quiet, looking down at her hands. "Evangeline?" She stays quiet once more.

"You have a beautiful name," Her therapist continues, noticing she was not about to talk, "It comes from the Latin word evangelism, meaning gospel. It also means good." 

Eve keeps her eyes trained on her hands. 

"So Evangeline, if you would like to live up to your name, I suggest you start talking." He says. His tone is no longer kind like it once was, there was a roughness to it, clearly trying to threaten the teen, and it was working. God knows what kind of other practices they have going on in this place.

"My parents forced me to come here," She tells him quietly, her head still facing the ground, "They believe that this is the best place to, um, fix me."

"Do you agree with them?"

She closes her eyes for a second, holding back any tears that decided to try and surface. She knew this whole experience was bullshit, she didn't know how long she would be here for. Surely the sooner she agreed and the quicker she was 'cured,' the sooner she'd be out. 

"I do."

"Good girl," his tone made a shiver go uncomfortably down her spine. "It's a promising start that you have the courage to confront your struggles with desire."

Eve just stayed silent, a singular tear falling from her cheek. 

- 

Ninety seven, ninety eight, ninety nine...

The door opened, like clockwork.

Eve had now been there coming up to two months. She wasn't doing well - she never felt well enough to eat, losing an appetite every time something was placed in front of her. She'd given up hope on Steve, he wasn't coming.

She stayed with her back facing the door, lying on her bed with her eyes closed as a figure hovered over her, shaking her awake. She grumbled, pretending to just wake up from her 'afternoon nap' to be faced with her therapist, he smiled down at her.

This time however, there was two security guards behind him who stepped forward, grabbing her arms and forcing her to stand up. She stayed completely silent, knowing fighting got you nowhere and was pulled out of the room, her therapist close behind.