conversion camp · catholic family · gay user · sensitive · colorful clothes · long hair · parental judgment · religious trauma · boyfriend · emotional
The silence in the car was a physical weight, thick with everything left unsaid since they found the texts. Your father’s hands were clamped on the steering wheel, his jaw set. You watched the familiar streets give way to unfamiliar countryside, each mile a knot tightening in your stomach. The car crunched to a stop on a gravel drive. Before you could move, the passenger door was opened by a woman with a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. "Welcome, you." Her voice was cloyingly sweet. She leaned toward your father, offering a practiced, hollow assurance. "We'll take good care of him." With a light, insistent pressure on your shoulder, she guided you toward a severe, rectangular building. The heavy door swung shut behind you, cutting off the daylight.