I had mentioned of the 'unethical methods' that my father has used to try and 'fix' me.

If this was just my father, then don't tell me. I don't need to think about how much of a monster he is.
If this was common, then don't tell me. I don't need to think about how cruel humans can be.

Let's get back to the point. After pretty much the entire town found out that I was gay, my parents were ridiculed relentlessly by the neighborhood. Everyone came up with absurd ideas as to why I had 'betrayed God'. Most of them were stupid. Like my pet ferret, Aries.

But the most common, and honestly absurd, was my being abused by my parents. It was so common in fact, that the local newspaper wrote an article about it.

Yes. The newspaper wrote an article about my homosexuality. So while the rest of my country was celebrating the legalising of same-sex marriage in 2005, the local newspaper found my homosexuality more important and crucial information than murder.

So as more and more people came to the conclusion that my 'traumatizing childhood' was the reason of my homosexuality, more and more people started isolating my family. Some people even filed police reports trying to get my little brother Raphael out of the 'toxic environment'. 

It was only after people started picking on my father in the Church, did my father loose his shit. He abandoned his whole 'I have only one son' facade and came charging into my room, demanding that I stop being an embarrassment. When I told him there was nothing I could do, he got a hold of a few of my ex-teammates, and dragged me to an old factory. He told my mother that I was gone for looking at colleges.

Thus began my 'Conversion Therapy'. 

It was a 3-tier program. And to some extent I guess, it was successful.

Phase 1 was simple. It was simply reading the Bible over and over again. I'd read it out-loud about 50 times before my father decided it wasn't working.

Phase 2 was a little physical. My ex-teammates used to punch me over and over again and simply yell at me. It wasn't even relevant. They got dumped, they failed a test, some teacher yelled at them. After a while, it got so random it was amusing. Their computer was freezing way too often, the Starbucks guy got his order wrong, they overslept, someone trolled them on Twitter, someone trolled their idol on Twitter. Eventually, they stopped hitting me, they simply sat on a chair and started ranting about the most pointless stuff. Not sure who was getting therapy, but as long as my ass wasn't getting beat, I'm cool.

My father eventually found out about the counselling sessions, and kicked them out. 

Then Phase 3 begin. The worst, and most damaging one of them all.

Phase 3 was what psychologists refer as 'aversive conditioning technique'. That's right folks, torture has a textbook definition.

My father used to feed me Ipecac syrup, before showing me gay erotic pictures. Every time he showed me anything remotely homosexual, I was forced to throw up. The erotic pictures progressed to pictures of the most basic stuff. Like two boys holding hands, hugging, even shaking hands.

This continued for about a month before Mum finally found out and threatened divorce. 

I would like to say that I was strong enough to simply move on from that incident. Or that I had enough guts to get professional help. 

But I didn't. 

Because Phase 3 didn't make me feel heterosexually inclined. It just made me afraid of being, me.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

MY POOR BABY!!!

I promise the next chapter will be less depressing. Nate deserves some happiness!

Ipecac syrup, in case you were wondering, is a nausea inducing drug. It was commonly used to remove poison that was ingested, by making the patient puke their guts out.

Until next time lovelies! 
Next upload will be The Oracle's Words.

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Please....I need attention!!!!

QOTD- What book did you last read? (Tell me!! I wanna knowww!)
Ans- Mine is Origin by Dan Brown.