Page 123 of The Prodigal Son

I’ve been crawling out of my skin ever since I got off the phone with my tour manager. She sounded frustrated with my decision. But I don’t care. If Jensen thinks I’m just going to let all of this go over one bad day, he’s wrong.

I’ve walked away from love before. I walked away from my own family. That was for my own good because that love didn’t serve me anymore, but I won’t walk away from Jensen. I will never walk away from him.

Thirty-Six

Jensen

You’re weak.

You always were.

God doesn’t love men like you.

You are a sinner.

You only care about yourself.

You’ll only bring him down with you.

Over and over and over. These are the words that greet me the moment I open my eyes. There is no way out. No beacon of light anymore. Just every hard truth I’ve been hiding from for years.

Because that’s what they are. The mantras and the voices were never lies. They were enlightenment.

That’s why they are so loud. They ring with truth.

The room is dark. It must be night again. Isaac’s voice echoes through the phone line even though he’s long since hung up.

I just wish I could stay asleep longer. Because every time I open my eyes and the memories and voices come back, they hurt. Everything hurts.

I am such a fool for trying to live a normal life. I feel so stupid for thinking I could change.

What is wrong with you?

You have done terrible things. He would never love you if he knew.

No one would. Not even God.

I pull the covers back over my head and try to quiet the thoughts in my head, but they just won’t stop. I try pinching my skin, hoping the physical pain will distract me from the emotional pain.

I don’t feel like myself anymore. I’m made of shame now. Regret, pain, anger.

The night is long and agonizing. When I climb out of bed, hoping for a distraction, I see the broken glass and water still covering my floor. The broken TV. And it brings back everything. The things Derek said. The memories it brought back. It was a kill switch. He knew exactly what to say to make it all hurt again.

Because it’s all true.

Letting go of Isaac was the right thing to do. Dragging him into a relationship for this long was wrong of me. So it’s just better if he goes and is free of me. The public will eventually forget I was ever in the picture. He’ll have a long, happy career. He’ll meet someone who will give him what he needs. Someone to be there for him. To hold his hand when he comes out. Who loves him proudly.

I won’t be here to see it. I can’t.

The weight of this hurt is more than I can carry. It’s enough to drag me down and make the entire world feel against me. I can’t take another second of it. This anguish. It’s like being stabbed by a thousand blades at once. I can’t numb it. Can’t drown it out. There’s only one way to escape it.

Standing in the bathroom, I stare at the shell of a man staring back. It’s too late for me. Too late to fix what I’ve done. Too lateto make myself a man worthy of God’s love. Isaac’s love. Too late.

In moments of darkness, some people speak about hearing the voice of God or searching for His strength, but I am not reaching for God. I am hiding from him.

Reaching into the medicine cabinet, I know this has always been the road I was on. The end I so desperately needed. The sweet relief.

This is not a tragedy. It’s not even the easy way out.

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