When it Stops Hurting (Royce)

21

Jacob's P.O.V.

I felt empty. I felt like I didn't have control over my life anymore. I sat in the living room on the couch, my fingers brushing across the bruises that were on my body. The deep purple and red blotches looked painful to look at even, and even more painful to touch. I turned my head to the side when hearing one of my parents descending the stairs. It was my father. I tried sinking down a bit, hoping that I'd make myself appear smaller. My dad looked at me, his eyes moving to the bruises.

"You're seeing Pastor Wayne today" he stated.

"I... I don't want to go".

"It's not an option".

"The bruises I have, they're going to become worse because Pastor Wayne... He's going to hit me again".

"You should've thought about that, you should've stopped committing your sin by now, but you just love the attention, don't you?"

I looked at my dad, frowning. "You think I like what gets done to me in conversion therapy? You think I like it when Pastor Wayne puts his hands on me and tells me I'm a sorry excuse for a person? I'm told every time that I go to the church that I won't be loved until I drop being gay. It doesn't work like that, it never will. I can't just put down being gay and pick up being straight".

I was upset by his words, but of course I couldn't let him know that because then I would get beaten, and I didn't need anymore bruises. "You drop that boy of yours and half of your problems would be solved" my dad muttered.

"I'm not breaking up with Chresanto..." I whispered, trying to ignore the anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew what we had wasn't very secure, I figured what we had... It wasn't going to last.

"Both of you need the sense knocked into you" he explained, he began walking in the direction of the kitchen. "His parents need to put him in conversion therapy as well".

I was shocked my father had said such thing, but then it diminished and turned into fear. I was terrified that my father was going to talk to Chresanto's father, I knew his dad didn't particularly agree with his sexuality. I was scared that my dad was going to somehow talk him into forcing Chresanto into conversion therapy. I didn't want Chresanto subjected to that type of torture, he could barely take being the least favorable child, there was no way he could take some man beating him and telling him he wasn't worth it unless he was dating the opposite sex.

"Fuck you". The words left my mouth before I could comprehend them. That's when the yelling began. I don't know how long my father and I were yelling back and forth at one another, but there was eventually a knock at the door.

"Answer the door" my dad demanded, I could tell he was still angry with me, and it was the same for me. I did what I was told, opening the door to reveal a police officer.

"There was a noise complaint" the male officer explained, my eyes moved to his badge; Davidson.

"Sorry" I apologized. "We'll keep it down".

I watched him nod, his gaze shifted down to my arms. I bit my lip, tapping my fingers against the door. "Is that all?" I asked lightly, hoping the bruises didn't look too bad, even though I knew they did. Any person could easily see the imprint of fingers on my wrists, I remember Pastor Wayne yanking me up from a church pew when I refused to move on my own. The other bruises were from being beaten.

"What happened?"

"Excuse me?" I questioned.

"To your arms, what happened?"

I chewed on my bottom lip nervously, hating the fact that I was honestly hesitating on telling him. If this had happened earlier, I wouldn't hesitate to tell the officer that I was in conversion therapy and was being abused by my parents. It was no longer early, however, it was too late. My father and Pastor Wayne had me locked up in a tiny cage, they had made me feel inferior.