homosexual- ryden

4

Brendon couldn't sleep; he wanted to sleep, but his mind was filled with thoughts and emotions. He knew he needed to fill his thoughts needs. He ripped out the needles that the nurses stabbed him with 3 hours ago. He pulled himself out of his uncomfortable bed and opened his door quietly, trying not to disturb anyone or draw attention to himself. He closed his door behind him and tiptoed to the office of the therapist he had to see every week. Even though he was a sick pervert, Brendon had him wrapped around his finger. Brendon would always tease him to get what he wanted, but the therapist didn't get any favors in return. Brendon went into his office trying to find the keys he needed to get ahold of.

Brendon glanced over his desk, trying to see if he was stupid enough to leave the keys on his desk, but he was distracted by something that caught his eye. He walked over to the object and picked it up, he examined the photo that gleamed out of the picture frame. He noticed the therapist was standing by a women around his age with children right in front of them. Brendon assumed that this was his wife and his children. He had a boy and girl, with smiles beaming off of their young faces. Brendon's eyes shifted to his wife and focused on her appearance. She a neck length brown hair with bright green eyes. Her smile was wide and she looked happy. Happy to know she has a 'perfect' family. Brendon sighed, knowing that his family probably never knew about the things he did and where he worked. Brendon's eyes shifted back to his children, taking in their features and their facial emotions. They looked so happy, they way children should be during their childhood. They looked like they were 10 years old, probably trying to learn how to multiply small numbers in school. Brendon realized that if they found out what he did everyday how it could break up this family they've created. Brendon sighed and set the picture down and started to look again, trying to get his family off of mind.

This reminded him how he broke up his own family. How his parents thought he was a disgusting devil, who worshiped the Satan himself. He remembered the day that occurred 7 years ago.

11 year old Brendon was at his best friend's house. Spencer and him sat on the floor of his room, playing with their Hot Wheels.

"Spencer?" Brendon said softly, scared to even spill this information to his best friend.

"Yeah?" Spencer responded, pulling his full attention to Brendon.

"I need to tell you something." Brendon said, putting his Hot Wheels on the floor and turning to Spencer. His throat began to fill up with a lump that wanted to push through and exit his mouth.

"I have this weird feeling towards, towards, boys." Brendon spoke, his voice barley audible for anyone to hear.

"I think you should tell your mom and dad, B." Spencer spoke honestly and he picked up his Hot Wheels.

"Okay." Brendon smiled, beginning to play with his Hot Wheels again.

Brendon thought since his best friend didn't care, maybe his family felt the same. He thought he was actually normal and this was totally okay.

~~

"Mommy, Daddy, come here please." Brendon spoke out as he sat on his couch with his legs criss cross applesauce with his hands in his lap. They just came back from church, so Brendon had on his church suit along with the matching shoes his parents made him wear.

His parents sat down across from him, sitting properly and looked at Brendon.

"So, I need to tell you this. I have these feelings towards boys. I think it's cool, isn't it?" The boy excitedly stated.

His heart dropped once he saw his parent's faces. They were filled with disgust. He felt like a disappointment, he wanted to dig a hole and bury himself until he died.

"This is disgusting! What the hell is wrong with you!?" His father exclaimed as he stood up from the couch.

"I-I'm sorry, Daddy." Brendon stated with his voice cracking. His eyes began to flood over with his own salty tears.

"You don't call me that anymore! You don't deserve to be my child!" His father yelled out, inching closer to the shaking boy who was scared of his father.

"Brendon Boyd Urie," his mother began to speak as she stood from the couch. "We did not raise you like this. I want you to know that this is not okay! You're gonna get help, and I don't care how long it'll take! I can't stand to look at you!"

Brendon's heart began to shatter slowly. Hearing this from his own parents made him want to not have this attraction to boys. His thoughts began to consume his mind.

He felt his father's hand go across his face, making his face sting with pain. Brendon held his face, choking on his sobs that became to overwhelm him. He never knew that his parents would hate him so much to the point of being kicked of his own home and being put into a hospital to treat his homosexuality.

Brendon snapped out of his trance, not wanting to remember that day anymore. He opened one of the therapist's drawers and found the keys he needed. Brendon quickly grabbed them and exited the room quietly. He tiptoed down the halls go find the room that his emotions were screaming for. He finally reached the room that he was destined to go to.

'111'

Brendon quickly looked for the key that had those exact numbers on it so he could unlock the door. Once he found the key, he quickly inserted it into the door knob and turned it slowly. He opened the door slowly and quietly. The room was pitch black, but he could hear them picking at their nails. The noise echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls.

"Brendon?"