Gay concentration camp

Chapter 4

There wasn't much to see in the building, just a large bunk bed that was built into the wall. The bed stretched around the room and there was no sheets of pillows. After about five minutes the large group of men limped into the building, some still with tear tracks on their faces.

Once the large mass of men were in the small building they all looked to me. The oldest of them seemed to be about twenty-nine years old. His face was calm and he looked as if he wasn't just whipped senseless. His eyes were a deep brown that pulled you in and captivated you. In the corners of his eyes were small wrinkles showing he smiled a lot. Or at least he used to smile a lot. His hair was a sandy blond and cut into a buzz cut, like mine used to be before it grew out. His face was dirty and sweaty. All in all he was beautiful. He walked to me. I scrambled back until I felt the wall, trapping me next to him. All he did was laugh. He grabbed me close and hugged me. "Don't worry dear boy, I will explain everything in the morning. You can sleep next to me tonight." To say I was shocked was an understatement. Who was this man?

I also didn't get the sleeping arrangement. Suddenly all the men in the room started to strip. I felt awkward and didn't know what to really do. The old man stepped to me and pulled off my shirt and pants, leaving me in my tighty whites along with the rest of the men. They all grabbed their clothes and got onto the bed. Once they were situated they dropped the clothes on the floor at the foot of the bed. I followed the old man and settled into his side on the bed. I tried to stay awake just to make sure I wouldn't be hurt as I slept.

The events of the day just came crashing back to me. My mother was hurt or possibly dead, I was taken away, and now I'm at a strange place with a bunch of scary men. For the first time that day I started to cry. I cried and cried until sleep overcame me.

I was awoken with a start. The older man was shaking me violently and I was screaming, begging for my mother. All I wanted was my mother. The man couldn't bring her back and I knew that but I just felt helpless without her. He did surprise me however. Instead of trying to talk to me, he sat down next to me and pulled my body into his arms, cradling me softly. He moved my hair and of my face and dried my tears.

"There, there, little boy you are safe here. I am Ben, what's your name?" I sniffled and mumbled out my name in response. I still didn't trust him. He cupped his hand behind his ear, telling my without words that he needed me to speak up. "Chance" I muttered a little bit louder. He smiled "chance, I like that name it is very unique." I nodded as he squeezed my middle a little. "Now, dear chance here comes the hard part" I cocked my eyebrows at him. "Do you know what this place is or why you're here?" I shook my head, was I finally about to have all my questions answered? "Let's start from the beginning, are you a "faggot"?" I tilted my head. "No I'm not a bad person" I pouted. He laughed making chest rumble. "Being a faggot doesn't make you a bad person Chance, do you really know what being a faggot means?" Again I shook my head. "Well, being a faggot means if you're a boy and you like another boy. In other words you are gay." I pointed to myself "I'm a faggot" He shook his head violently pushing a finger to my lips. "No boy, don't say that out loud okay. The police here think being gay is bad. This is a camp" I started to jump on his lap. "A camp? Like the ones my mommy used to send me to when I went to school?" he laughed but shook his head. "No, not like that kind of camp, have you ever heard of the holocaust?" I did know about that, my mother had been teaching me about Hitler a couple of months earlier so I eagerly nodded my head and started to babble about all that I knew. He held up his hand to stop me. "Do you remember your mother teaching you about concentration camps?" Again I nodded. "This is a concentration camp for gay people run by the churches of Illinois." I might have been young but that I understood. I fell against his chest hugging him tightly.

Officers forced open the door to the building and pushed all of us out. Ben explained to me the basis of every day. In the morning we would work out. Work out meaning running in place and when I whistle blew we had to drop into a push up before quickly standing back up and running again. This out would take us about two hours in the morning. You had to run fast though because if you were even a little slow, you would be shot. After our morning workout we got to go work. Jobs at the camp varied per person. You could be a wood worker, tailor, jewelry maker, shoe maker, or other things of that nature. I got to work out in the fields, taking care of the crops that grew there. Ben was a tailor and a great one at that.

After about seven hours of work we got "lunch". That was just water and some bread, at least we got food on a constant basis. Then after a half an hour lunch period it was back to work. For the last hour of our day before we had to return to our beds, we were punished. Everybody would line up in three straight lines and the police would walk up and down picking men that they felt needed to be punished that day.

Some were punished for doing simple things like, not sewing one stitch in the correct place, or letting the fruit rot. Many times men were punished just because they were gay and in need of a little "motivation" to become straight. The punishments were harsh and often humiliating. One I remember to well was one of Ben's. The officers on duty made him strip naked and receive several harsh whippings from all the prisoners there. The welts on his back were there for days.

Then we would all pile into our little cabin, which I later found out that the prisoners had to make themselves, and go to sleep.

It was a rough life but it was life. We were all careful and only a few people were killed every day. Sadly among those killed was my best friend and at one point boyfriend, Ben. Sure he was older but it was love. He was killed for asking for better food for the men. The police shot him through the head on the spot, he didn't even flinch.

Right now I am hiding behind the trees in the fields, writing on some spare fabric from the shoe makers hut. I guess the whole cause of this new age holocaust is the fact that people can't seem to accept different people. No matter what people say they can't accept others for who they are.

I really should go now, this is against the rules. If the guards catch me they are sure to kill me. But to think this all started with-

AN:

OKAYYYYYY thats it guys! If you don't really understand that last part just dm me or even put it in the comments because I might do a prologue? Do you guys even want one of those? Do you want to know what happened after this? Should I follow the story of another inmate in the camp that actually survives? Please let me know what you want!