I followed all their rules, listened to all their lies and morals about how being gay is wrong. I hated myself the whole way, but I still did it. It took nine months for them to believe that they "fixed" me. Nine months of beatings, lies, the want for death, and I could finally walk out. Dead inside, but alive.

The scars on my legs from the dog bites never healed properly. I walked in pain and my muscles cramped for the longest time. I had lost a lot of blood, and it took months until I could really feel physically normal again. My arms were the same and just as weak. For a period of time, I was severely deprived of food, and now my stomach caved in. I felt so beat.

"Thank you for putting your trust in us, Mr. Phil Lester," said the head trainer as he shook my hand. "You were a tough one, but we had you. I promise you're straight now and can live a normal life. Congratulations!"

I put on a fake smile as he showed me the outside. Everything looked different. "Thank you, sir."

I left the dreaded place and had graduated as a "straightened out" guy. My heart hurt as I lied to them and made believe I was what they wanted, but it set me free.

In the camp, I had passed my eighteenth birthday – something I was hoping I'd make before I got out. I was freed and didn't have to go home to my hypocritical family. I could do what I wanted, and be my own person. There was one person I dreamed of seeing when I got out, but I can't do that anymore. I can't even say his name. He would be ashamed of me, giving in to who I'm not for others. That's not what he was about. He would never want to see me again, and wouldn't want me to find him. He's probably with Rosa, or got himself a nice boyfriend already. He said he loved me, but that was before I lied to the camp and to myself. I didn't think he would care if I lied to the camp, but lying to myself... that's not what he would have wanted. It was either that, or I die from them, and I wasn't going to let them kill me. No, death was something personal. Something I wasn't going to lose the opportunity for by letting someone else think they succeeded against me. It was something I had to do myself.

I checked into a hotel far from the camp on the little money my parents sent me. I was supposed to use it to get home, but that wasn't going to happen. I cut open the scar on my arm with a razor left in the bathroom, letting the mark drain. It felt cleansing. I fell asleep on the bed, planning on giving myself the proper punishment for dishonoring myself later.

~~~~~
When I woke up, it was the middle of the night. I was starving, but I had sadly become used to being deprived of food. I didn't care. I was unable to move anyway, so I let my empty stomach churn inside me.

My mind shifted to Dan again. His beautiful face and brown eyes, his kind heart, how he tried to save me at the last minute before they caught me. How he told me he loved me.... It hurt. I began to cry. He would be so sickened by me now. I was disgusting.

"Is this what you wanted?!" I screamed out loud. That damn camp took away everything I had – my sanity, my pride, my Dan.... None of it was worth it. And I was still gay! You cant change a person's sexuality. Its who they are. That's just how it is.

I was worried I would wake other people in the hotel by accident, so I quieted down, and tucked myself unhappily down. Dreams of dancing with him fluttered my head, and the constant rhythm of his moves put me to sleep once again.