“Margaret, what the fuck is this?” I pull against my restraints again, the rope cutting deeper into my wrists.
My mother’s lips press into a thin line. “Language, Elliot. You’re in God’s house.”
“You’ve lost your mind.”
Pastor Williams steps forward, his gaunt face half-shadowed. “Your mother has brought you here for healing, Elliot.”
My mother nods, her hands clasped tightly at her waist. “This is for your own good, son. We’re going to save your soul from damnation. The path you’ve chosen—that man has corrupted you.”
I stare at her in utter disbelief. “You burned down my gallery! You destroyed everything I built, and now you’re kidnapping me?”
“Sometimes we must be cruel to be kind,” she says, her voice steady and certain. “God tests us all. Your gallery was a temple to sin, a monument to your corruption. And now we will purify your soul.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. My own mother, who raised me, who I spent decades trying to please, has moved from emotional abuse to arson to actual kidnapping. There’s no trace of maternal love in her eyes—only the cold determination of a fanatic.
“Purify my soul?” I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “You actually think you can pray the gay away? Are you serious right now?”
Pastor Williams approaches, Bible clutched in his bony hand. “We’ve prepared a week-long spiritual intervention, Elliot.Through prayer, scripture, and guided reflection, we will help you resist these unnatural urges.”
“A week?” The reality of my situation crashes down on me. “You’ve kidnapped me for a week?”
My mother’s face hardens. “It’s not kidnapping when it’s for salvation. We had to act quickly after your... public displays with that man. The entire town is talking about it.”
“His name is Julian,” I say through gritted teeth.
She flinches like I’ve slapped her. “Don’t speak that name in this holy place.”
I look around at the crosses staring down at me, at the restraints cutting into my wrists, and suddenly understand the full magnitude of what’s happening. This isn’t just my mother’s usual disapproval or even her desperate act of burning my gallery. This is something far more dangerous.
“You’re not going to let me go until you think I’m ‘fixed,’ are you?” My voice shakes despite my effort to keep it steady.
“Not until God has cleansed your spirit,” Pastor Williams confirms, placing a cold hand on my shoulder. “However long that takes.”
A chill runs through me that has nothing to do with the basement’s temperature. I’ve spent my whole life hiding who I am to please this woman, wasted decades denying my own happiness for her approval. And now that I’ve finally found the courage to live authentically, she’s literally tied me to a chair to force me back into the closet —well basement in this case.
“You’re sick,” I tell her, looking directly into her eyes. “You’re not doing this out of love. You’re sick, and you need help.”
“No, Elliot.” She shakes her head sadly. “You’re the one who’s sick. But we’re going to make you well again.”
My mother turns to leave, but then stops. There’s something else in her expression now—something beyond the righteousness, something colder and more ruthless.
“If the spiritual intervention doesn’t work,” she says matter-of-factly, “I’ve made other arrangements.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There’s a neurosurgeon—a godly man from my prayer circle’s extended network—who has developed certain... procedures. For cases like yours.”
The words hit me like ice water. My entire body goes rigid. “Are you fucking serious right now?”
“He’s had success with others like you. Men and women who couldn’t be reached through scripture alone.”
I stare at her, unable to process what she’s suggesting. My mind is both racing and completely blank at the same time. I want to scream, to cry, but I’m too shocked to do either.
“A lobotomy?” My voice sounds distant, like it’s coming from someone else’s mouth. “You’re talking about a fucking lobotomy?”
She shrugs, her face unnervingly calm. “Call it whatever makes you comfortable, Elliot. The procedure has a technical name, of course.”
Pastor Williams stands silently beside her, nodding slightly, complicit in this insanity.
