Page 11 of Conflicting Lyrics
“Why?!” my father booms.
“Because.” I smile up at him, feeling loopy. “Having you two as parents is enough to drive anyone to drink.”
“That's enough!” My mother shakes me.
“No.” I shake my head. “It’s really not. I hate you.” I laugh. “I hate both of you.” I grin. “And Ally isn’t a whore. She’s the best damn thing to ever happen to me. Guess what, Mom?” I laugh harder. “I like girls. I’m bisexual. And I’m in love with Ally. I want to spend the rest of my life with a girl. What do you think about that?” I ask, blinking as I try not to fall over.
The slap across my face sobers me up quick. I blink at my mother in shock. My parents have a messed-up view on life, andthey aren't good people by any means, but never have either of them laid their hands on me.
“Listen here, you ungrateful little bitch,” my mother sneers. “We’ve given you everything, and this is how you choose to repay us?” She shakes her head. “No. I’m not going to let him win. He won’t win!”
Who the fuck is she talking about? Have I lost my mind, or has she finally snapped herself?
“We need to bring her to the church,” my father says, grabbing my arm. “We need to bring her to Pastor Don. He can save her before the devil sinks his claws into her for good.”
“You‘re fucking crazy,” I scream, gaping at the both of them. “What is wrong with you?”
They say nothing as they start to drag me towards the car.
“Stop it!” I shout, struggling to get out of their hold. “I said I was done with you. I don’t want to live with you anymore. I’m done!”
“You are under eighteen,” my mother snaps, shoving me into the back seat of the car. “You are not going anywhere. You belong to me, do you hear me?” She gets in my face. “I’m not letting you go, Lucinda. I love you. You're just sick, okay?” Her face morphs from anger to worry. It’s at this moment that I truly see how messed up my parents really are. “You're sick and we’re going to get you help. You're going to be okay. It will all be okay.”
She slams the door shut and gets into the front seat.
The sound of the locks clicking echoes through my mind loudly, signifying that I’m not getting out of this.
It’s too late. I’ve lost everything. My life is officially over.
“Lucinda, it’s time for bed.”My mother’s voice sends a shiver of displeasure down my spine.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I stare blankly out the window. It’s the position I’ve spent most of my summer in: numb, unfeeling, a compliant robot like they made me.
That night was both the best and worst night of my life, ending with not only the loss of the only person who ever mademe feel any ounce of happiness, but also my parents dragging me to the church.
It was then that I truly saw the church for what it was. People made jokes that it was a cult, but I brushed them off, too blind to fully see the extent of their evil.
But when my parents dragged me into that building, threw me onto the stage in the front of the room, and told the pastor to do what they had to do to fix me, I knew that place was hell on earth.
They took me to a back room, strapped me to a bed, and ignored my pleading cries. They hooked me up to IVs and forced sedatives into my body to make me too out of it to fight back.
It’s been a month, and I’m still not fully sure what they did to me when I was passed out. I was asleep more than I was awake. It was better that way because when I was awake, I was forced to listen to how I was sick and needed help. That the things I’ve felt were the work of the devil, and I needed to repent for my sins.
There were too many hands on my forehead while words I didn’t understand were spoken, as if they could pray the gay away.
It doesn’t work like that. But they didn’t care.
Once they deemed me good enough to go home, I was forced to take pills. Pills that made me numb. I didn’t fight them on it; I didn’t have the energy to.
For the past two weeks, I’ve been locked in this house.Literally.My parents have arranged their work schedule so that someone is home with me at all times.
All the windows and doors have locks on them now, not only in my room but the whole house, and my bedroom door can now be locked from the outside.
At night, they lock me in my room, too afraid I’d find a way out.
They know they are wrong, it’s why they’re going through so much to make sure I’m doing what they want.
Saying nothing, I crawl into bed, pulling the blankets over me while still facing the window.
