Page 82 of Captivated
“Good boy,” Dr. Keller murmured. “Now, let’s try something else. Open your eyes.”
Warily, Nate did as instructed. Dr. Keller reached into the box once more and pulled out a stack of photographs. He spread them across the desk like a hand of playing cards.
They were pictures of women, beautiful, delicate, their smiles bright and inviting.
“These are the cure.” Dr. Keller tapped the images.
Nate’s hands curled into fists in his lap.
“Take one,” Dr. Keller instructed.
Nate hesitated, and Mr. Fletcher stepped closer. With a deep, shuddering breath, Nate reached forward and picked up a photoat random. The girl in the picture had soft blonde hair, her eyes warm, her lips curled into a perfect smile. He tried to focus on her. On the way she was supposed to make him feel.
“Now,” Dr. Keller said, “I want you to say, ‘This is what I want.’”
Nate’s mouth was dry as sand.
Dr. Keller’s voice hardened. “Say it.”
The words stuck in his throat.
Mrs. Reed sighed. “He’s still resisting.”
Dr. Keller steepled his fingers, studying Nate in silence before nodding to Mr. Fletcher.
Nate had no time to brace himself before the counselor’s heavy hands gripped his shoulders, yanking him out of the chair. His stomach plummeted as he was shoved onto his knees on the cold, hard floor.
Dr. Keller crouched in front of him, leveling his gaze. “You don’t want to stay sick, do you, Nathaniel?”
Nate’s breathing was shallow, ragged. He shook his head, even though every part of him screamed that this was wrong, thathewasn’t wrong.
Dr. Keller picked up one of the photos and held it in front of Nate’s face. “This is what’s right. This is what’s normal. Youwillbe normal. Do you understand me?”
Nate’s vision blurred. He could hardly see the image anymore, but he knew the answer they wanted.
“Yes,” he choked out.
Dr. Keller’s lips curled into a cold smile. “Say it.”
“I… I want this.”
The words felt like poison on his tongue.
Dr. Keller patted Nate’s cheek, almost affectionately. “Good boy.”
Nate remained on his knees as the session continued, his mind fracturing with each passing moment. They made him repeat the words. Again and again. Until his voice was hoarse.
Until he didn’t recognize himself anymore.
By the time he was dismissed, Nate could barely stand. His knees wobbled as he stumbled back to his dorm, his wrist raw from the rubber band, his mind a tangled mess of shame, fear, and exhaustion. He collapsed onto the thin mattress, curling into himself. He’d said the words. He’d done what they asked.
But no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much they punished him, one thing remained the same.
The feelings didn’t go away.
And deep down, no matter how much they tried to erase him, he knew the truth.
He would never be cured.
