Page 70 of Captivated

He was a beautiful human being and they killed him.

In his mind he saw Mark as he’d been back when he was sixteen and Nate was fifteen. A broken, yet brave Mark who’d whispered under the covers.

I just want to go home, even if it means lying.

That was enough to get him out of the car and into the night, striding toward the front door. It didn’t matter what time it was. He was there, and he wasn’t leaving until he made them face up to what they’d done. Each footfall up to the porch was a heartbeat that hammered. His hand trembled as he reached for the brass knocker, then he curled it into a fist. He pounded on the door.

Once. Twice. Again. And again.

Nate didn’t stop until a light snapped on inside and curtains stirred. Above him, the porch light burst into life. The door creaked open a sliver, and the woman behind it squinted through the chain.

“What do you want? Do you know what time it is?”

“I need to talk to you.” Nate’s voice cracked. “About Mark.”

There was a pause, then the chain clinked and the door opened wide. Her face was white in the porch light. “Who are you?”

“Someone who knew him.” His heart pounding, Nate stepped inside before she could move to stop him.

“You can’t just walk in here,” she protested as she tried to impede his progress. But Nate was inside and he wasn’t about to leave. She turned her head and called out, “Jim! There’s someone here about?—”

“Get out of my house,” a man’s voice boomed, rough with sleep and disbelief. He appeared behind her, a robe clutchedaround him, his feet bare, his graying hair tousled. He glared at Nate. “What in the name of God do you think you’re doing? Do you know what time it is? Who are you?” He pointed to the street. “Get out, I said.”

Nate squared his shoulders, doing his best to suppress the tremors spiking through him. “I’m not leaving. Not until you hear what you did. Not until you understand what you killed.”

Jim Omerod widened his eyes. “What in the name of… You don’t barge into someone’s home in the middle of the night, spewing nonsense. Who the hell are you?”

“I was with him.” Nate spat out the words. “At the camp. I know what you sent him into.”

Mrs. Omerod froze, and her husband’s expression shifted from anger to confusion, and then fear.

“You don’t understand,” she whispered. “We were trying to help him. He was lost. He was confused. We thought?—”

“You thought what?” Nate’s voice broke. “That if you electroshocked the gay out of him, he’d come back happy?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Jim said, his voice rising. “We didn’t know what else to do. He was a child. He needed guidance.”

“He neededlove!” Nate shouted. “And what didyoudo? You buried him in shame and called it salvation.” The room swam in his vision. He was shaking violently, his breathing ragged, his fists clenched at his sides. “Every day at that camp, we were punished for justbeing. You know what that does to a kid? You know what it did to Mark? He smiled and took it. Said it was worth it if it meant you’d let him come home.”

“That’s not fair.” Mrs. Omerod’s voice trembled. “Hecamehome. He was getting better.”

Nate threw his hands in the air. “He was pretending! Couldn’t you see that? Or did you only see what youwantedto see? He was dying inside, and you clapped him on the back and called it progress.” His stomach roiled.

Jim narrowed his eyes. “You don’t know what we’ve been through. You don’t know how hard it was to make that decision. We did what we thought was best for our son.”

Nate shook with rage. “You thought wrong.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Why are we even listening to all this?” Jim pulled out his phone. “You’re not well. I’m calling the police.”

“Good,” Nate said with vehemence as Jim spoke into the phone. “Let the world know what you did.”

“No one’s going to know anything,” Jim snapped. “You think we want people finding out about that place? About what Mark?—?”

“Say it,” Nate demanded, his rage a fire that consumed him. “Say it. You don’t want anyone to know your son was gay.”

Their silence was answer enough.

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