Polly took a deep breath, looking at the pamphlet. PRAY THE GAY AWAY! YOU NO LONGER HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT YOUR CHILD BEING CONFUSED. STEER THEM RIGHT, WITH THIS EIGHT WEEK CAMP.

Polly shivered, and set down the pamphlet. The children on the front were smiling and had their hands clasped together, as if they were all praying. It made her stomach churn, and her mind whirl with hatred. Hatred for herself, because why was she so messed up? Why couldn't she be normal, like all the other children?

She closed her eyes. She didn't think she needed to go to a camp. Didn't think it was necessary, but her parents wanted her to go. Worst of all, it was with Doctor Higgins. As if he could make everything better. As if.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. "You'll love it there," her mother urged. "Plus, you already know Doctor Higgins, so it won't be as strange and awkward. He's such a nice boy."

Polly didn't agree. She could remember the way he looked at her, and the way her brought her into his office. He was terrifying and strange, and she hated him. Had always hated him since she was a little girl.

"Please don't make me go, mom. I promise I'll never look at another girl again, just please-"

"You're going to go, whether you like it or not young lady!" Her mother was yelling at her now, loud and boisterous. "He will fix you. He will fix you up until you're good as new! You just wait!"

Polly didn't want to wait. Polly wanted to run and hide, but she could escape to nowhere, and that was the life she lived. If only she'd never told anyone.

She escaped to her bedroom, gripping the notepad. She flipped to the page of the girl she liked, and just stared. Stared at the curve of her face, the fullness of her lips, the way her eyelashes hit her cheek.

She was beautiful. Beautiful in a way that Polly knew she was never supposed to see. Polly knew the drill - she was supposed to be staring at boys, drawing boys, dreaming about boys. But what good were they? She saw boy all day, and all they seemed to do was make rape jokes and imitate the moans of girls. As if they were cool and mature, which they weren't, but Polly didn't care.

She didn't care because she wasn't attracted to them.

She thought they were idiotic and stupid. She thought they were crass, and disgusting because they never showered. Boys in her grade didn't care about how they looked or smelled. They were interested in spraying themselves in deodorant, and calling that good enough. They were also interested hitting the butt of every single girl in the hallway.

No, Polly didn't see the allure in boys. She just didn't understand it. She found girls much more attractive. They were beautiful, with fashion sense and beautiful hair. They smelled like heaven, looked like angels, and were always so well groomed. They cared about their appearance. They cared about showering.

Polly saw no reason to like a boy. They were gross. Disgusting. And cared about themselves.

But girls. Girls were so different, and soft, and they smelled so good.

Polly didn't want to like boys. She didn't want to date a boy who smelled like a can of men's body spray and was only interested in her bra size. She didn't want to date a boy who would hit her butt. She didn't want to date an immature boy who didn't understand her.

She had yet to meet a boy who could make her heart flutter like a girl could.

And no matter what Doctor Higgins did to her during that camp, Polly didn't think her mind could be changed.

Minny held out his hand, waiting. He didn't say a thing, just watched as the boy handed him the baggie shamefully.

"What do you have to say for yourself, huh?" Minny's voice was stern, so unlike himself, as he stared at the child in front of him. It was a child he didn't really know, but had seen lingering around his house for a while now. A child that was no older than middle school aged, which left him in the age bracket of 10 to 13. Far too young to be intertwined in this game he was playing.

The boy said nothing. Instead, the child stared at Minny with large, round eyes, taking in the sight of the older boy. His gaze wasn't questioning or even curious. It was more cocky and defiant, which was a look Minny knew well. It was a look Minny used to wear on his sleeve.

"I better never see you around here again, understood?"

The boy fidgeted nervously, then skittered off. Minny imagined him running to his friends, excitedly retelling his adventure and how he just couldn't wait to do it again. It made Minny shake in anger, and more importantly, it made Minny wish the dump of a town he lived in did better for the children.

Minny sighed, running a hand through his hair and gripping it tight. He hated this part of him, but he had no choice. It was who he was destined to be. A destiny he did not chose, but a destiny he had to follow. If only he hadn't had the dream with Lennard. And if only he could stay away from the poison in his life.

"Master Benjamin," the man at the gate greeted when he got home. "what on Earth do you have there?" The guard's tone was cheerful, and wasn't prying. It was curious and entertaining, which wasn't surprising, nor was it not allowed. But, Minny was in a foul mood.

Minny looked down at the bag full of drugs. "None of your fucking business."

The words were harsh, and sent the guard into a thick silence. He bowed his head, not daring to look the young master in the eyes. He took a step back into the gate house, his heart hammering in his chest at the thought of losing his job.

Minny stepped through, looking up at the sprawling estate in front of him. His slicked back hair and his uniform felt tight and suffocating, but Minny told himself to bare with it, for only a little bit longer. He needed to finish the puzzle that was Lennard, then he would be fine being cut off from his family. From this life style. It was something Minny dreamed about.

He walked across the estate towards the front door, passing expertly cut hedges and fountains. It was all extravagant, so much that it made Minny's skin crawl. He'd never seen so much money go to waste, but he knew exactly why. He knew his parents better than anyone.

He was greeted at the front door by his mother. "Oh, Benjamin. Welcome home my son!" He placed two hands on his cheeks and pulled him in for a brief, motherly kiss. "You've grown."

Minny closed his eyes tight, and took a deep breath. "I haven't, Mother. I haven't grown an inch since I saw you last."

His mother swatted at him. "Oh, nonsense. Come in, come in."

Minny took in the sight of his childhood home. The lavish home looked just as it had before Minny had left, and it didn't surprise him in the slightest. Though, he wished for once that his family could be normal. If only.

The staircase at the front door was dolled up, like his family was expecting guests. Which didn't surprise Minny; his family was always expecting guests. With fresh flowers on every table and maids on call, Minny wondered why his childhood home wasn't always filled with guests. And then he remembered who his parents were.

"Dill, guess who is home!"

Minny closed his eyes and counted to ten. When he opened them, his father was strolling in, looking a lot like he remembered. There was just something so regal about him that made Minny cringe. It reminded him of his childhood, and that was something Minny could do without.

His father was a tall man, with greying hair and a trimmed beard that spelled gentleman. His suit was tailored just for him, and his shoes had been shined hours prior. His impeccable appearance made Minny shake in his own shoes.

"Benjamin, what on earth is going on with that hair of yours?"

For a moment, Minny was shocked. He'd expected a hello, or even some sort of civil greeting. But instead, Minny touched his haircut, remembering just how strange it was to someone so proper. No matter how well he dressed, Minny could never live up to his father's standards. Something he struggled with growing up.

"Dad, just drop it."

"I know that my son, the boy I raised, did not just call me dad." His father sternly reprimanded.

"Sorry, sir." Minny ducked his head in shame, feeling like he was five years old again. A time that Minny would love to forget.

"Sir? Just sir?"

"Sir Dillard." Minny added, his palms sweaty. It had always been like this, even growing up, which was why Minny left in the first place. His father was as cold as a businessman, and treated his children as employees that could be easily replaced.

He saw his mother from the corner of his eye, and watched her grasp a bottle of wine, as if they were celebrating. Although, Minny knew this was anything but a celebration. He was soon realizing that coming to ask questions about his lost brother was a mistake.

"Where have you been?" His father boomed. "Do you realize what you've done to us?"

Minny took a step back, not feeling so invincible in his suit as he had approaching his childhood home. "Done to you? What have I done, other than escape this prison? What happened with Lennard is not my fault-"

"Lennard? You know nothing about Lennard! How silly, for a twin brother to know nothing about his own brother's whereabouts. He's so much different from you, you know. He's made it in this world. You? You're a disgrace, still pretending to be a fucking high school boy because you believe it'll make it easier. Like acting as a teenager makes the rest of the world less frightening."

Minny took another step back, his heart beating hard in his chest. For a moment, he imagined that his father was insane, because there was no way his father could possibly believe he wasn't a teenager anymore. "What are you talking about? I am still a high schooler. I am still a teenager. Look up my birth certificate."

His father just stared at him, anger welling up, and Minny just watched. Watched as his father grabbed the bottle of wine from his mother and smash it all over the ground. "Stop fucking drinking Martha! You're a fucking alcoholic!"

Minny felt like someone was choking him. He felt a hand around his throat as he watched his mother break down into tears. He felt helpless as his father yelled at a servant, watching them fear for their lives.

His father wasn't abusive. He'd never laid a hand on anyone in the household, including his children, wife, and staff. But in that moment, Minny imagined that he'd changed over the years. And Minny felt like he was a child again, trapped in this house, struggling to live in the shoes of his older brother. Not Lennard, but his other brother. The one smart enough to live the life their father wanted for him and escape.

Not Minny, though. Minny didn't want to be the man his father was. And when he closed his eyes, all he saw was Polly, and her stupid animal shirts. Minny didn't know why, and honestly didn't want to question it. Didn't dare question it.

"I think, my dear son, it's time to teach you a lesson. Time to teach you what it means to be a man in this family."

As if Minny hadn't gone through that enough as a child. As if Minny wasn't bred to be nothing short of royalty. Sure, when he'd left his home to pursue a less extravagant life, he'd ditched the expensive suits and rich mannerisms. But he could remember everything his father taught him about manners, about eating properly, and about being a man of society.

Minny didn't have a chance of escaping. Not this time. And his mother, well, she was too busy crying over her spilt wine to even think of helping her son. 

* * *

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