Page 79 of Unfix Me

“What’d they do?” I prompted.

“Put us on display, basically. For an entire day, fourteen hours or something, they made us sit outside on the ground. They said horrible things to us, made us say horrible things to each other. All the campers had to insult us and tell us how disgusted they were with us. They… brought our parents in.”

A few tears spilled onto his cheeks.

“My mom cried. She just wouldn’t stop crying, blaming herself for what I was. My dad was angry and disappointed. He s-slapped me. Told me it’s because he loved me but that he couldn’t love me if I was with a man. It was wrong. Disgusting. Unnatural. I was an embarrassment to the family and if I went down that path, he’d tell everyone that his son was dead.”

“Oh my god. Sen, that’s so wrong. You know that now, right?”

“Yeah, I guess. That day broke me, but it was the next that was the worst. I got up and wanted to see Travis to make sure that he was okay. When I couldn’t find him, I asked one of the counselors. They weren’t happy that I asked and they threatened to give me another day of punishment. Then, they told me that Travis was dead.”

“Dead?” I repeated.

“He hung himself in the bathroom. My dad wouldn’t let me go to his funeral. He said I would turn out exactly like that if I didn’t get help. I went for two more summers before he was satisfied and since it was getting in the way of football practice that started in August, he decided I was better. I thought I was too. It wasn’t until I met you that I let myself think that maybe everything I went through there wasn’t actually right. I hadn’t felt that since before Travis died.”

His hands shook violently, so I took the cup and set it aside before I wrapped my arms around him. A heart-wrenching cry left him, one that sounded more cathartic but still full of grief.

I was so angry. It wasn’t something I felt often. I was a positive person and tried to see the good in any situation I could. Not this one. This was evil. What Sen’s parents and those Camp Dumont assholes did to him was unforgivable in my eyes. If his parents ever wanted to be part of his life again, they’d better hope they could come up with a good enough apology and even then, I would never trust them. I was sure I wouldn’t be able to forgive them.

They didn’t deserve their son. Sen was beautiful and kind in a way that was almost shocking considering what he’d gone through. Like West, he’d found a way to cling to something good inside of him, even at the expense of that portion of his soul that deserved justice. The people in his life who were supposed to protect him and love him unconditionally had failed miserably. I would do both of those things forever to make up for their shortcomings.

“I love them,” he cried.

“I know you do, baby, and that’s okay.”

“They’re supposed to love me. Why don’t they love me like this?”

“They do love you; they’re just lost. It’s not your fault. It was never your fault.”

“No. They hate me.”

“They don’t hate you. Nobody could ever hate you.”

“But, I… I’m the reason that Travis is dead. It’s m-my fault.”

“Don’t say that,” I scolded.

“He killed himself because of the things he felt for me.”

I took his face firmly in my hands. “You listen to me. He killed himself because he was shamed, abused, and made to feel like there was something wrong with him. It was their fault. Everyone who spoke down on him and tried to change him is responsible for what he felt he had to do. The same goes for you. You arenotbroken, Seneca, and I refuse to let you think that. I will remind you every day.”

“Why?” he muttered. “I’m bringing so much shit into this and I don’t understand why you’d want to be here through it.”

“We all have our baggage. Some is just heavier than others and that’s why you need two people to carry it.”

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

“I am so goddamn sure. It doesn’t fix what you’re missing from them, but I’m so proud of you for how far you’ve come.”

“At least someone is. They’ll only ever be disappointed.”

“So fucking what?Youshould be disappointed inthem.”

He still looked uncertain, but he nodded.

“This therapist,” I began, trying to sound casual. “Is he an actual, licensed counselor?”

“Yeah. Why?”

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