"I don't like this," Josh told me, shaking his head as he drove down our road.

"I know, I heard you the first four times you said it," I replied in an irritated tone, looking over at him with hooded eyes.

"I just think you should have told your dad," Josh added, almost chastising me.

"I didn't ask what you thought."

Asking Josh to drive me to my mother's house on Sunday afternoon probably wasn't my brightest idea. I would have just driven myself, but Josh insisted that he needed the car today and that he could drive me where I wanted to go.

When he found out I was headed to my mother's, he didn't shy away from telling me how he felt about it. He didn't like my plan to tell my father about it afterwards, but I had sworn him to secrecy.

"Are you trying to move back in with her?" Josh accused, looking over at me briefly as he stopped at a red light.

"No," I denied, looking at him like he was crazy.

After she kicked me out, I didn't think she could do anything to get me to move back in with her. Kicking me out the way she did was irredeemable in that sense. I could forgive her for it, but not enough to go back.

"Is your step dad going to be there?"

"I assume so."

Josh sighed and continued driving toward my destination. We didn't speak for the rest of the ride, but I could tell by the way Josh's jaw twitched that he still had some things to say to me. I didn't encourage him to speak though. I wanted to spare myself from his chastising.

Eventually Josh pulled the car up in front of my old home, and I sat in the car as I looked at the house. Nothing had changed on the outside, but I was sure the inside was unrecognizable. Memories poked at my brain, threatening to puncture the walls I built up to repress them.

"Do you need me to pick you up later?" Josh asked as I opened the door to get out of the car.

I shook my head. "Fox will."

Josh nodded as I shut the car door. I took a deep breath before marching up to the front door and then paused, staring down at the welcome mat.

What do I do at a home that used to be mine? Do I just walk right in like I still lived here? Or do I knock like a stranger?

I decided on knocking, not having the courage to walk in without doing so.

Mom was quick to answer the door, a wide smile taking up her entire face. I held my breath for a moment, the reality of seeing my mother for the first time in months finally setting in.

She looked the same, her dark brown curls were tightly wound and her makeup was done to perfection. She wore an outfit that seemed too formal for our gathering, so I assumed it was what she wore to church.

There was a lump in my throat as I looked at her and I didn't think I would be able to speak. I hadn't let myself think too much about what coming here would do to me emotionally, but I quickly realized that it unsettled me. It felt as though I was in a foreign place that I had never been before. And despite the welcome mat I was standing on, there was nothing welcoming about this place.

"Elijah, come in," Mom insisted, moving aside so I could walk in.

She didn't hug me. She always used to hug me whenever I got home.

"I made some pasta for lunch," she told me as she led me to the dining room. She always refused to eat in the kitchen.

When we walked through the living room, I saw that my senior picture had been taken down from the fireplace along with some other more recent photos of me. Only a few baby pictures remained.

In the dining room, the table was set for three and I almost groaned at the thought of Dave joining us, though I had already suspected he would.

"Are you alright?" Mom asked, moving closer to me. "You seem quiet."

"I'm fine," I finally let out, my voice raspy and unrecognizable.

"Sit, sit," she lightly commanded, gesturing toward the lonesome seat on the other side of the table.

I sat down and Mom quickly scurried into the kitchen and then back into the dining room, bringing the food in with her. She placed some on my plate and then on her's and Dave's and the two of us began eating.

"Dave will be down shortly," she said, lightly patting her mouth with a napkin. "We wanted to talk to you together."

Dread filled me at the though of Dave being part of whatever conversation we were going to have. My mother, I could deal with, but Dave was a different story. Him and I never got along.

"I would prefer speaking to you alone," I quietly told her, looking up from my plate.

She stared at me with a puzzled look. "Whatever you want to say to me, you can say in front of Dave."

"No, I can't," I responded through gritted teeth, already feeling my temper rise.

This wasn't going to go well if I was getting mad after only being here for five minutes.

Mom just looked at me with confusion. I felt something inside me snap, but I tried my hardest to keep my composure.

"Why did you invite me here?" I finally asked, my tone cold.

"We should wait for Dave," Mom replied.

"No," I snapped. "I want to hear what you have to say before he gets here."

"I don't have anything to say," she said. "It's what we have to say."

I let out a frustrated sigh and placed my fork down on the table, pushing my plate away from me.

I shouldn't have come here. I should have known that it was him who put some thought in her head about "fixing" me.

I was about to get up and leave when Dave walked in, holding some papers in his hand. His face was impassive as he walked around the table to sit beside my mother across from me.

"Now that Dave's here, we can talk," Mom told me with a smile, looking between the two of us. "We want you to come home."

I gave them each an incredulous look, my heart stinging every time it beat.

Dave's expression wasn't even trying to be welcoming like my mother's. He looked as if was about to reprimand me.

"No," I said, causing her face to fall slightly. "I already told you I can't do that."

"We think it would be best for you and your... situation if you came back here," Mom tried to reason, looking over at Dave for confirmation.

"My 'situation?' You mean my sexuality?"

"Your situation is something that can be fixed," Dave spoke up.

Mom happily nodded. "We did some research and found out that it's not permanent. If you fix your relationship with God, then you can fix your situation."

My blood ran cold at what my mother's words were insinuating. I wanted nothing more than to get up and leave, but I was frozen in place. My mind was giving my body commands to move, but I stayed still under two scrutinizing gazes.

"We found these places," Dave added, tossing the papers down on the table in front of me.

What I looked at were printed papers for different religious camps that advertised that their facilities repaired relationships with God by "rehabilitating sinful minds." A few even explicitly mentioned sexuality as something they helped "repair."

"These are out of state and the programs are only a few weeks," Mom said, grabbing my attention away from the papers. "We really think you'd benefit from this."

"You want to send me to conversion camp?" I asked in a horrified whisper. My eyes stung with tears that blurred my vision. The stupid look of confusion was back on my mother's face and all I wanted was to wipe it off.

"What?" she asked. "That's not with this is, Elijah."

"Yes it is," I instantly replied, in a low, almost hissing tone.

"No–"

"Yes it is!" I boomed, smacking my hands down on the table and standing up from my seat, hot tears running down my cheeks.

My mother looked horrified with her eyes opened wide while Dave looked furious at my outburst.

"If this is what you want, then at least tell it like it is," I said, my voice still loud.

"Elijah, it's a church camp so you can develop your relationship with God," Mom explained, looking as if she was trying to calm me down. "They won't hurt you there."

"I'm not going," I denied, shaking my head. "You can't make me go there. Dad would never agree to it."

"I don't want to make you do anything," Mom replied, intently staring at me. "I thought you wanted to fix this."

I let out a humorless laugh. "You're fucking insane if you think I'm going there."

"Watch your mouth," Dave barked, standing up from his seat. "Don't speak like that in front of your mother."

I shook my head. "Fuck you. You're both fucking insane. Fuck you both."

A sudden collision to my face sent me stumbling back into the wall, smacking my head against it. It took a few seconds for it to register that Dave had just punched me.

"Dave!" Mom screeched, standing up from her chair. She grasped his arm to stop him from coming toward me.

Warm blood poured out of my nose and the side of my face throbbed in pain. I moved my hand up to my face to feel where he punched and found that it was already swelled up and felt warm to my touch.

"You need to learn respect," Dave seethed, moving forward.

I gave him an evil glare and shook my head, moving away from the wall to walk around him. He grabbed my arm as I walked by.

"Dave, don't," Mom pleaded.

I roughly pulled my arm from his grasp and stormed out of the house, bringing my phone up to my ear to call Fox. I didn't even notice I was crying until the hot tears stung my wounded face.

"What's up?" Fox answered.

"Can you come pick me up?" I sniffled, cursing myself for not being able to keep my composure.

"Are you alright?" he asked, sounding alarmed.

"Fox, please," I begged.

"Send me your location," Fox said, sounding as if he was walking outside.

After he received my location he asked, "Do you want to stay on the phone?"

I shook my head, holding back a sob. "No. I'll see you when you get here."

I hung up the phone and began walking in the direction I knew Fox would be coming from. I brought my hands up to my face, rubbing my eyes with a heels of my hands, causing the throbbing on my bruised face to intensify.

I dragged my feet down the sidewalk, choking back sobs that violently pulled through my chest. I knew going to see my mother wouldn't end well, but I was dumb enough to let myself believe that she would be accepting of me. But instead, the worst happened, and she thought of me as someone who needed to be fixed and that was what hurt the most.

It didn't take long for Fox to pull up next to me, alarm in his eyes as he zeroed in on my face. I sniffled and took a deep breath before sliding into the passenger's seat.

"What the hell happened?" Fox boomed as soon as I was in the car. "Did your mom do this to you?" He gestured toward my bleeding face.

I let out a humorless laugh and shook my head, wiping tears from my eyes.

"Dave did."

Fox's eyes turned the darkest shade I had ever seen them. His jaw was taut and his lips were tightly pressed together. He looked like steam was going to pour out from his ears at any moment.

"Where's the house?" he asked in a deathly quiet tone, looking behind him.

"Fox, don't," I pleaded in a bland tone.

"Don't what? You don't know what I'm going to do."

"You're thinking about going back there and fighting with Dave," I retorted with a knowing look. "I know you."

"You can't just let him get away with hitting you!" Fox exclaimed, looking at me with wide eyes, his expression telling me that he thought I was being crazy.

"I don't even care about that," I mumbled, looking down at my lap just in time to see a tear splash onto my pants. "My mom wants to send me to some conversion therapy camp."

Fox's stony expression turned sympathetic at my words. His jaw slacked and he looked at me with sad eyes, shaking his head. He threw his hand through his hair and let out an exaggerated sigh.

He reached out to touch my face, but I flinched away.

"Let me see it," he commanded, putting his hand on my face.

Fox looked at the wound for a few seconds before shaking his head and taking his hand back.

"Shit," he harshly cursed. "I should have never told you to go there."

I shook my head. "Shut up."

His lips quirked up a bit, but he didn't let himself fully smile. Then, Fox did what I thought he would never do. Fox leaned over the center console and wrapped me in a tight hug. The warmth and comfort I felt in his embrace caused my emotions to come flooding back to me. I buried my face in his shoulder as I cried, a loud sob ripping out of my throat.

Fox comfortingly rubbed my back as I wept. I felt secure in his arms, like nothing could ever get to me as long as he was shielding me. It was the sense of belonging I had been yearning for, it was a feeling of being home.

"We have to go to your house and tell your dad," Fox murmured into my ear in a low tone.

"No," I cried.

"Elijah, we have to," Fox urged, continuing his steady pace while rubbing circles on my back. "He needs to know some man hit his son. That's kinda a big deal."

"I know, it's just..." I sighed, "He's going to get so angry."

"As he should."

"Can we just go to your place for a little bit?" I asked, picking my head up from his shoulder.

Fox looked down at me and his expression said that he was contemplating my request.

He shook his head. "I think the sooner your dad knows about this, the better."

I studied his sympathetic expression and let my eyes linger to the scar on his eyebrow. My eyebrows pinched together in confusion.

"How did you get that?" I asked him.

"What?"

"The scar on your eyebrow," I clarified.

Fox's expression soured. "Fighting with Wren when we were kids," he told me with a sigh.

"What happened?"

"We were fighting, he pushed me down face first into the corner of the coffee table," Fox explained with a shrug. "There was so much blood. My mom was freaking out she thought I was going to lose my eye, but it was just a deep cut."

I hummed in understanding, nodding my head, resting my head back on his shoulder.

"Okay, now that you're done trying to distract me, let's head to your house," Fox said in a knowing tone.

I sighed and pulled away from him, wiping some stray tears from my eyes. Fox looked at me for a few moments with an unreadable expression before reaching over and wiping his thumb under my eye.

I didn't dare thank him, but I let my expression show him that I was grateful.

Fox pulled away from the curb and we made our way to my house. The ride there was silent, not even the radio was on. My nerves caused an uncomfortable ache in my stomach that matched the throbbing on my face. I looked over at Fox and noticed a red spot on his shirt.

"I got a little blood on your shirt," I told him, pointing toward the spot.

He just shrugged. "I can wash it."

When we finally reached my house, I noticed that both Dad and Mindy were home.

"Do you want me to come in with you?" Fox asked after he parked the car at the curb.

I couldn't even get a word out so I just nodded and then the two of us made our way up to the house. Once we were inside, it was quiet.

"Dad?" I called out.

"Just a minute, Elijah!" he called back. A few moments later he was jogging up the basement steps and walking into the living room.

The wide smile on his face was quickly wiped away when he got a good look at me. His gaze switched from me to Fox and back to me within two seconds.

"What's going on? Are you alright?" he questioned, rushing over to me. Dad took my face in his hands to examine my wound.

"I went to see Mom today," I admitted.

Dad's face darkened as he slightly pulled away from me, keeping his hands on my face.

"Did Dave do this to you?" he asked in an icy tone.

I let out a sigh and rehashed everything that happened while I was at my mother's. Dad intently listened, his gaze never leaving mine as he spoke. When I was finished, the explosion happened.

"I'm going over there right now," Dad seethed, moving to grab his car keys from the hook they hung on.

"Dad, don't," I pleaded, but he didn't listen.

I looked to Fox for help, but he just shrugged.

"I'm not letting them get away with this Elijah," Dad sternly told me. "Both of their actions were uncalled for."

I wanted to stop him, but Fox grabbed a hold of my shoulder. I turned and gave him a scowl.

"Just let him go," Fox said.

And the two of us watched as my father stormed out of the house.

**