Broken Pieces

Chapter 2

*TW: physical and mental abuse and anti gay therapy are mentioned through out this chapter. If you don't want to read that part, please skip to the end and take of yourself! <3*

I woke up over and over again throughout the night. I felt so horrible about Evan. Without my phone I have no way to talk to him or Tyler to tell them what is happening. There is no way to say sorry to Evan for causing so much pain to him yesterday, all I can do is hope that his family is taking the news better than mine is.

When morning finally comes around I'm greeted by my mother walking in. She tells me they have some news to share over breakfast and for me to hurry downstairs. When I get down there I see all three of them at the dining room, excitingly awaiting my arrival.

"Good morning Daniel!" My mom says as she lays a plate of eggs at my usual spot. This is a trap. This has to be a trap. They seem to happy, too normal. Something isn't right.

I sit down, we say grace, and begin to eat. After a few minutes of eating, my father begins to speak. "I was able to get in touch with some colleagues of mine and we were able to find an open spot for you at a very well received school just about three hours out. They have an very excellent reputation for fixing problems much like yours. We will be taking you there first thing Monday morning."

Now I am freaking out on the inside. A school? What kind of school? Why is it three hours away? What do they mean fixing problems like mine? I guess my mom sees the fear in my face and chimes in "Oh honey, don't worry! This is the best place for you to be right now, we promise." The rest of the morning we spend talking about the school I am going to, and what we need to get in order for me to be ready in time.

The next few days we are busy getting my uniforms, and new books together. The books are all about religion and nothing like I'm use to. The uniforms are boring and baggy. They even have preferred pajamas to wear. At least there's no need for me to worry about what I need to pack.

I never get a chance to look up what kind of school I'm going to be at, but I have a gut feeling it's not something I'm going to enjoy. I've just been told over and over again that it will help me.

Monday comes by way to quickly. We get up at 4 am for we can get there at 7 am. As soon as we get there we immediately go into the main office to talk to the dean of the school, who is also the pastor at the church connected to the school. I'm told that church service is mandatory, and Sunday's are for bibles studies only. The only day we technically have off is Saturday, but those will be for group therapy and for cleaning. I am not looking forward to this at all. But, I will do whatever it takes to make my family proud of me again.

I learned very quickly just how strict this school really was. Running late? You got a ruler to the hand. Talking back? Ruler to the hand or the face, depending on their mood that day. They did not care about physical harming you; I found that out on my first day. I'm pretty sure punishing us for every little thing is their sick way of feeling power and control over us. I caught them smiling while hittingsomeone on more than one occasion.

The entire experience was horrible. Everyone was miserable all the time. No one ever dared to make friends, if they did, the teachers would pin us against each other for "growth". Any action they performed against us, it was God's way of testing  us. But, by far, the worst of it all was the therapy sessions.

My father put me in what is called "reparative therapy" for I could receive the most help. What i didn't know at the time is that it would be my own person hell.

At first we talked about what brought me here. How I disappointed my family for falling into sin, and how bad it looked on my godly family that I was going down this terrible path. If I ever wanted to make my family proud, I had to change. I would never truly be loved by anyone again until I learned to be better.

They broke me down until I was nothing but a shell of my former self. I saw it all around me from the moment I walked in. The new kids come in kicking and screaming; but the ones leaving were walking out as zombies.

Once I was here for a few days, I realized no one really cared about helping us, they just wanted us to conform to their standards; and that they had no problem with hurting us along the way.

                                                                                           ~***~

By the time Christmas rolled around I was losing myself and it was getting harder and harder to fight. All I wanted was to  go home.  I hadn't seen or heard from my family since I was dropped off. When it came time for me to leave for the holidays, no one ever came. That's when I realized my family didn't care about me until they thought I was "cured".

After that I poured myself into everything they wanted. If becoming miserable is the only way to get out of here, then so be it. I became depressed and disconnected with myself. I became scared of being touched, any touch felt like a fire burning into me. I hated my life and everything about it. I wanted to die, but I refused to try. Every time I thought about it, I tried to remember the few people back home that I did have back home. Matt, Tyler, and Evan.

I still think about Evan every day, even though I pretend not to anymore. I hope he's doing ok. I really hope he's happy.

It's now been three years since I left, it's about to be my senior year. After spending time with them over this past holiday, they thought it was finally time for me to come home.

It was my first real summer since I was 14. Although my life was still pretty strict, it was enough. I was able to get my license and my parents even gave me a used car; but I had to use my extra spare time at church. Whatever they needed me to do for I could have a little bit of freedom, I would do it. Anything to prove myself to them.

The one tiny bright spot of my bleak summer was seeing my brother. 

Matt graduated college and got an apartment with his best friend about thirty minutes outside of my hometown. When I wasn't at church or with my parents, I was there. I was even able to get a part time job at a small fast food place near his apartment. When I was over there, I could relax and just be myself. Well; to a degree at least. He still doesn't know where I actually went. We told him the same story we told everyone else, that I was accepted into an elite boarding school and wanted to devote my times to my studies. I'm not sure if he fully believes it, but he's never pushed it.

I'm going to the high school I never gotten to go to for my senior year, seeing all of my old peers from middle school again for the first time in years. I would be lying if I said I wasn't terrified. Although, I was somewhat excited to see Tyler again, I was so afraid to see Evan again. My beautiful, sweet Evan; he is who I am most terrified to see.