I heard footsteps. A door opened and closed before the one to the basement opened. More pounding footsteps down the stairs. I tried to glance over my shoulder, but I couldn’t see who it was.

I rattled the chains. “You’re nuts. This is fucking crazy. Let me go,” I yelled.

“You will be cleansed,” Dad replied, almost robotically.

“What are you talking about? Is this because of my job? I don’t do anything with those men.”

“Lies,” he screamed. “You let them touch you.”

“I didn’t!”

“You did. It’s wrong. You’re wrong. We can’t have that. God won’t allow something like you in Heaven until your sins are purged from you.”

“What are you talking about? Working isn’t a sin. Being gay isn’t a sin. You’re the one who’s wrong. I’m not. I’m normal. I’m fine the way I am.”

“You repulse us. We will make you clean” came Mom’s voice. I hadn’t heard her approach. She moved beside me as she placed a tray on the bench.

“Mom, no, what are you talking about? Please, please stop this.” My voice cracked, tears welling.

I wasn’t wrong.

I wasn’t a sin.

My actions weren’t sins.

I just wanted to be accepted. I wanted a happy life—one filled with love.

I was normal. I was.

“Stop, please. There’s nothing wrong with me. There isn’t.” A sob tore out of me. I thumped the ground with the chains. “I’m normal. I am!”

My heart cracked. It dripped blood from an old wound. One my parents had inflicted. One I had healed by being away from them, but it was the same one they were opening again. They were breaking me.

“You will be clean. You will be after we’re done with you,” Mom stated.

I glanced up to a mother who never loved me—a mother who only saw faults.

“Don’t do this, please, Mom. Please.”

Her upper lip raised in a silent snarl as she watched my tears flow down my cheeks. “You’re dirty, boy. God won’t have you the way you are.”

“He will!” I yelled. I believed it. I may not be devoted, but I trusted God existed. “He will have me. He will shine down on me. He will love me for who I am. But can you really say this is what God would want you to do to your own son? Doesn’t what you’re doing go against God and his ways?”

She shook her head and glanced over me. “God doesn’t shine on those who sin.”

“What you’re doing is a sin!” I shouted.

“You’re wrong. God trusted in us to take care of our problem. I am doing God’s work, and you will repent. Hold him.”