“Jesus doesn’t love f*gs.” We repeat in unison. “Jesus doesn’t love f*gs.” The voices echo throughout the empty church basement.

The church basement is musty and smoke protrudes from the campfire lit in the center of the room. There’s a banner that reads, God’s Grace: Gay Conversion Camp. The cold stone floors, the paint chipping off the wall, the incense burning, it’s strangely calming. I was raised in the rusty old chapel on Stone Street. You can tell by the ornate architecture and intricate paneling that the old chapel used to be gorgeous. Despite its once beautiful exterior, the facade is now crumbling, deteriorating from years of abandonment. The tendrils once spiraled around the fence guarding the porch are now wilted and struggle to grip to the splintered wood. The second-floor window is shattered and shards of glass rest precariously on the dusty windowsill threatening to fall with every gust of wind. I tell myself nothing has changed since I was a starry-eyed little girl in the pews, but I know everything has.

I want to love this church, I want to feel safe inside of it’s walls, but all I feel is a strong disconnect, I feel disdain from people I once called my brothers and sisters, and rejection in the very presence of the church. I want to feel god’s protection, but I know I can’t.  “Jesus doesn’t love f*gs.”

The cult-like chanting ends and the pastor begins his speech.

“No one is born a homosexual, and this idea that people are ‘born’ gay is repulsive. Homosexuality is a learned behavior. We can cure you,”his voice is soft but his words are sharp.

I listen to the pastor, with the kind eyes, and jolly face tell me I am worthless in the eyes of the lord. I feel tears stinging my eyes.

“I want everyone to write down their sinful experience and we’re going to go around in a circle and ask the Lord for forgiveness. We’ll burn the memories so we can, with the help of the holy spirit, enter into a god- fearing, heterosexual lifestyle.” He hands out blank slips of paper. I write down the entire story, tears cascade down my cheeks as I write, my handwriting is barely legible, the words are written out of anger, out of fear, out of disgust for what I am.

The pastor hands the talking piece, a wooden cross to a chubby boy with a high pitched voice.

“My name is Kevin Wilson and I’m 15 years old. Forgive me father for I have sinned. I have engaged in homosexual conduct…” his voice cracks and he can barely continue. The talking piece makes its way around the circle, and by the time it gets to me it’s sweaty and bent out of shape. My fingers graze over every divot and carving on the cross. I focus on the tiny things, I find peace in the details, I find the silver lining in the inner workings. I take a sharp breath in.

“My name is Katie Daniels and I’m 17 years old.” I pause, scared to delve into what comes next. “Forgive me, father for I have sinned,” the whole night comes flooding back to me.

…

It’s the night of Dean’s end of the year party. The air is stuffy and intoxicating, there’s a sickening feeling in my stomach. The scent of trashy perfume and cigarette smoke wafts through the air. Time ripples and everything is disjointed, all I see is a blur of skin and clothes. Everything is in slow motion and I flash in and out of consciousness.

“Katie, Katie!” A man sits on a couch next to two long-limbed, blonde-haired girls in tight dresses. His legs are crossed and his arms rest on their shoulders.

“Come on Katie, let’s have some fun.” Another man looks up from his Saturday night conquest to coerce me to do something I’m going to regret.

I feel his breath down my neck. He places his hand on my waist. I am paralyzed and I want to scream but I feel it stuck in my throat. The hair falls in front of my face and I am disoriented. I put my hand on his and try to move it.

“Kyle, please.”

“Katie, stop being such a prude.” He exhales.

Panic pulsates through my veins, and I feel like I’m about to faint.

“Kyle, get your hands off of her.” I hear her voice for the first time, it’s powerful and demanding.

“Relax, we’re just having fun,” Kyle says with a sly smile.

“Get your hands off of her. Let’s go.” She takes my hand and pulls me away from Kyle. Everything is blurry.

“D*ke!” He shouts after her.

She opens the back door and I inhale sharply. The air is brisk and everything becomes clear. It’s pitch dark and the sky has an eerie shadow cast over the moon.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” She says from behind me. I nearly forgot anyone was out here with me.

“Yeah.” I smile for the first time all night. I pivot so that I’m facing her. In the darkness, her eyes are mysterious but drawn into the light they remind me of pools of honey. Her beanie is draped over her short brown hair that lays voluminously on top of her head.

“Your Katie right?” I nod. “I’m Ty.” I hear her real voice for the first time, without the anger in it. It’s melodic and the words seem to slide off her tongue so effortlessly.

“Nice to meet you Ty, and thanks for what you did back there.” I tuck my hair behind my ear, and the blood rushes to my cheeks.

She looks at me for a minute with a sly smile. She walks over to me slowly and rests her arms on the banister and looks out at the sky. I turn and do the same.

“No problem.” She pauses. “Cigarette?” She asks. I nod hesitantly.

“Don’t ever do anything your not comfortable with.” She looks into my eyes scoldingly

“No, I want to.” I persist.

She hands me one, I put it in my mouth and she pulls out her lighter. The lighter is engraved with the words, Amor Vincit Omnia.

“What does it mean?” I ask. “The lighter.”

“Oh, Amor Vincit Omnia, it’s an old Latin phrase, it means ‘love conquers all’ It sounds cheesy I know.”

“I didn't peg you as a hopeless romantic.”

“It helps me to remember that life is uncontrollable and love is uncontrollable, that the heart will do what it wants, regardless of our intentions.”  Her smile is delicate, and her lips are pillowy. She lights the cigarette and I cough up smoke until I finally get the hang of it.

“So, Katie, who are you?”

“Who am I?” I let out a puff of smoke.

“Who are you? You know… what makes you smile? What’s your biggest fear? What keeps you awake at night? Your passions, your secrets.” She looks out into the night sky.

“We just met…” I giggle.

“Life is too short for small talk.”

“Ok… I’m a writer.”

    “Good start. Why?

   “I guess I like the feeling of being in control while feeling totally lost.

    “That’s beautiful.”

There’s an awkward silence, and it takes me a second to muster up enough courage to say what I’m about to say.

“This might be upfront, but are you gay?”

   “yep” She pauses. “What about you?”

“I don’t know- I mean no. I don’t know.” I’m straight, I mean I don’t like girls.

    “Relax you don’t need to know. So are you dating anyone at the moment?”

    “No.”

    “Why?”

   I  start to speak but I can’t seem to get the words out. My brows are furrowed tightly and my eyes glimmer with tears.

    “Are you okay?” She asks. I shake my head. “What’s wrong?” she persists.

“Look, I’d appreciate if you’d stop with the interrogation.” I retaliate harshly.

   “Ok, I’m sorry.” We stare at the sky and in the distance I see the sun rising.

   Her eyes that were formerly vivacious and full of stories look painful and lost.

   “Look, I’m really-” she starts.

   “Inadequacy,” I say. “ I’m afraid I’ll never be good enough. I’m afraid I’ll disappoint my parents and everyone else I meet, and I’m constantly unhappy with everything I do.” I feel the tension boiling up inside me.

   She places her hand on my shoulder. I turn to listen to her words. She’s peculiar, wise yet naive, erratic yet sensible. She’s the type of person that will say insightful and beautiful things, but she’ll only say it once, and only to those who are willing to listen.

   “I didn’t tell my dad I was gay until about a year ago. I opened my heart to him. He beat the crap out of me in return.”

    “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“I know what it’s like to disappoint your parents, and I know it’s hard to but you have stop living to please others. The only life you should be living is yours, and the only person you should be living it for is you.” l

I moved my hand across the banister and intertwine my fingers with hers.

“Why am I attracted to you? This isn’t supposed to happen. I’m not gay!”

“Amor Vincit Omnia,” she turns toward me and she looks into my eyes. “Love conquers all.”

    “Kiss me.” I dare her. Maybe I don’t like girls, but I like Ty.

She wraps her arms around my waist and presses her body against mine. She keeps one hand on my waist and another entangled in my hair. My body is effervescent, there’s a bubbly feeling in my heart and fluttering in my stomach. There’s an inexplicable feeling in my chest and I feel a connection, deeper than any crush or any kiss. I know by the way she hesitates as she pulls away that she feels it too. The taste of her lips is bittersweet and I don’t want it to stop.      

She puts her hand in mine and when she untangles her hand I feel an object. The lighter. I feel the engravement on my palm and I can’t help but smile. I tuck it into my pocket and wrap my hands around her shoulders one last time. She leans in her lips hovering over mine. Her breath is warm and I lean forward to kiss her but she pulls away and puts her thumb over my lips. She caresses my face.

    Her body untangles from mine and in an instant, she is gone, only the sound of her voice echoes in the dense air. Her giggle, her tears, her smile, her frown, I’d remember it forever.

…

I exhale, salty tears streaming down my cheeks. The room feels smaller than it did when I started talking, the air less clear, the smell more poignant. I look around the room, it feels different, I feel like a stranger. There’s a sign that reads, gays will burn in hell. How could people that despise our very existence also claim that they’re trying to help us out of the kindness of their hearts?

“Now go on, rid yourself of your sin Katie.” The pastor looks at me with a smile, but a look of disgust in his eyes.

I lift the paper over the fire. The heat is radiant, and the smoke stings my eyes.

“Katie drop the paper.” He says aggressively. “We’re here to help you overcome your illness.”

I’m supposed to be a good girl, I’m supposed to listen to my parents, I’m supposed to listen to my pastor. I’m not supposed to be a homosexual. I’m supposed to let go, I’m supposed to rid myself of the memory. The only life you should be living is yours, and the only person you should be it living for is you. I remember her words.

I put down my arm.

“Katie the only way to live a normal, heterosexual life, is to ask God for forgiveness! The first step is forgetting.”

“Maybe I don’t want to forget.”

I crumple up the paper into a ball, and shove it in my pocket, I pivot abruptly and walk to the door, bolting up the stairs. I hear the pastor cursing me out and I feel a burning pit of guilt in my chest, but I don’t stop walking.

I run out the door and onto the cobblestone streets. The light of day nearly blinds me. I look around helplessly, I have nowhere to go. I am walking in no particular direction, lost in the place I once felt most at home, but I don’t stop for even a second. That day I walked away from God’s Grace: Conversion Camp, the old chapel on Stone Street, my former brothers and sisters, my pastor, my childhood, and I never looked back. I never abandoned my faith, just learned to believe differently. I reach into my pocket and feel the piece of paper and I smile. I know I made the right choice. I reach my hand in again and pull out a small black lighter, engraved with the words, Amor Vincit Omnia.

Ty is a reminder of a world where I hated myself profusely for loving her, but also a reminder of the day I realized that I did and that I could love her. I would never see Ty again but every time I touch the delicate inscription on the lighter, I hear her whisper, telling me that love conquers all.