The sobs wrack me as the thoughts swarm—and I let them.
I let myself feel it all because I have to.
There’s no other way.
I’ve sinned. What I’ve done goes against God, and it’s wrong. I’m a terrible person for loving a man. For wanting a man this way.
No, I’m not. There’s nothing wrong with love. Love is the purest thing of all, and how could something like that be wrong?
You were told it’s wrong. In the Bible, it says it’s wrong.
In the Bible, it says you can’t even eat certain foods, or if you steal something, you could get your damn hand cut off. It’s not practical. This is the twenty-first century.
But why do so many people believe it if it’s so strict and ridiculous? Do they just pick and choose what rules to follow? Because it seems to me, that’s what they do.
They just choose to eat what they want. They choose to cheat on their spouses. They choose to hate queer people.
It’s not fair.
Someone shouldn’t be hated for who they are—for who they love.
How is that wrong?
A knock sounds against my window, and I jerk back with a gasp to find Kane standing out in the cold in only his pajama pants and a t-shirt.
I roll down the window. “What are you doing?” I croak.
“You’ve been out here for a while, and I thought something might be wrong,” he says easily, but I see the tension in his eyes. “Looks like I was right.”
I stare up at Kane, a denial on my tongue, but what’s the point? I’m a damn mess, and I know it.
“Yeah,” I breathe the truth, and Kane gives me a sad smile.
“C’mon, buddy. Let’s get you inside so we can talk.” He watches me roll up the window before I turn the car off and step out, shivering as the cool autumn air washes over my bare skin. I walk beside Kane to the house. The tension is thick between us, but I find I don’t mind it much.
“Madison…” he trails off as we trudge up the stairs. He reaches for the door and holds it open for me.
“Thanks,” I say as I walk through. “What?”
“Can I ask you something?” he says, and his nose is wrinkled slightly as he looks at me. I don’t sense any judgement, but the moment I notice his facial expression—confusion and slight aversion, I remember. And my face burns hot because I know I smell of Cedrick’s urine.
“Oh,” I squeak, choking on spit as it flies into the back of my throat. “I’m sorry,” I mutter, feeling shame—not for the first time.
“No. Madison,no,” he reiterates with a hand on my shoulder. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I just want to make sure you’re… well. Not okay, but okay, if you know what I mean.”
I blink at him a few times, confused, before his words sink in. “Oh. T-thanks. I’m… fine.”
He gives me a small smile with tired eyes. “Why don’t you go get a nice, long, warm shower and meet me in my room. We’ll hang out, watch a movie, talk, whatever you want to do. But I don’t think you should be alone. How does that sound?” he asks, and I… yep.
I’m gonna cry.
I turn my back on him as the tears make their way back and splash down my face in hot streaks. I’m ashamed of my fear, of my own shame. Of the guilt I feel. For feeling any of this at all when Iknowit’s not wrong.
“Okay,” I finally manage. And then, I start the trek up the stairs, leaving Kane where he stands.
My shower is long and full of white noise as my ears ring and buzz with thoughts and voices warring with one another. Back and forth. And just when I think the logical side is winning, I turn, feel my ass twinge, and then, my mother’s voice is back, screaming at me.
I hate that I hear her at all.
