Page 96 of Captivated
Nate drew in a deep breath. “What you need to understand before I start, is the purpose of these tests. They were trying to break down—let’s call him Luke—Luke’s sense of self. They asked Luke to relive and recount his feelings, thoughts, and experiences in a way that left him broken, exposed, and ashamed.”
“But Luke came through it, didn’t he?” Zeeb couldn’t restrain his impulse a moment longer. He moved, closing the gap between them, his arm on Nate’s covered hip.
To his surprise, Nate took hold of his hand and laced their fingers. “Yeah, he did.”
Whatever Zeeb was feeling, Nate felt it too.
Zeeb waited in the silence for Nate to begin, and when he spoke, his voice was calmer than Zeeb had anticipated.
“Luke found himself in a small, dimly lit room. The walls were bare except for a single crucifix mounted on the far wall. The air smelled sterile, cold. A table with a Bible on it sat between two metal chairs, and the only sound was the soft rustle of papers as the counselors prepared the test.”
And just like that, Zeeb was in the room with him, his skin pebbling, his heart pounding. He tightened his grip on Nate’s fingers.
“Luke’s hands were clammy as he walked into the room, each step feeling heavier than the last. His body was onautopilot, his legs moving even though he felt as though he was walking through quicksand. He hated this place, hated the way everything seemed to suffocate him. Every breath, every moment.” Nate’s breathing hitched.
“I’m right here,” Zeeb murmured. “I’ve got you.”
Another deep breath. “Luke didn’t know what to expect from the session, but his stomach twisted with apprehension. He’d been hearing whispers among the other boys, murmurs of “Purity Tests” and “confession,” but no one had dared speak about it openly. There was no way to know exactly what would happen, only that it was another test.” He paused. “Another way to break him down.”
Zeeb shifted nearer. “You okay with this?”
Nate turned his head to gaze at him. “Actually, yes. It kind of… disconnects me from it.” Then he faced the wall again and breathed deeply. “The door clicked shut behind him, and Luke flinched at the sound. He glanced up and saw the familiar faces of Mr. Thomas and Mrs. Reed, both standing by the table, their expressions unreadable, cold. Mr. Thomas was holding a clipboard, his fingers tapping absently against the edge. Mrs. Reed stood off to the side, her arms crossed, her eyes fixed on Luke as though she were already assessing him.”
“You tell a good story,” Zeeb remarked. “Maybe one day you should write about this.”
“I’ve had the same idea.” He cleared his throat. “Okay…. Mr. Thomas told Luke to sit, but Luke’s legs felt as though they were made of lead. The thump of his heart made his chest ache, and his throat was dry. He couldn’t bring himself to look at them, not yet. All he could see was the Bible on the table.” Another pause. “And then Mr. Thomas began speaking.”
A tremor rippled through Nate, and Zeeb curled his body as best he could around him.
Nate’s tone flattened, devoid of emotion. “‘Today, Luke, you’ll be participating in a very important part of your healing. The Lord can only purify you if you are completely honest with yourself and with us. You’ve written in your journal about your struggles, about the thoughts that corrupt your mind.’”
“Journal?”
Nate nodded. “They forced him to write in it every day. Luke was always careful, always made sure to write what they wanted to hear. And now it felt as if his soul was laid bare for them.” He shivered, and that flat, dead tone was back. “‘In these tests, we will guide you, Luke. You will confess the full extent of your thoughts, your temptations, and your desires. You will reveal them to us, so that we can begin the work of purifying you.’”
Nate trembled, and Zeeb let go of Nate’s hand to press his against Nate’s damp chest. He waited for any sign that Nate wanted to stop.
Nate covered Zeeb’s hand with his own.
“Luke opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. He wanted to protest, to run, but there was no escape. The only way out was through. He’d written about a boy from his last school, Sam, a boy who didn’t exist, and while Luke had never experienced such thoughts at that age, he wrote about spending too much time watching Sam in the locker room, feeling things he couldn’t control, because that was what they wanted. ‘Tell us, Luke,’ Mr. Thomas demanded. ‘What were you feeling when you looked at Sam?’”
Nate’s shivers multiplied, and Zeeb held onto him, tethering him to something solid and warm.
Himself.
“Luke told them he found Sam attractive, even though his voice cracked as he fed them the lie. He couldn’t miss the flash of satisfaction Mr. Thomas and Mrs. Reed shared, the way the minister seemed to take pleasure in Luke’s discomfort. ThenMrs. Reed leaned forward. ‘Attraction is sin, Luke. And when you act on it, it leads to more sin. Tell us, did you ever fantasize about him? What kind of thoughts entered your mind when you saw him?’” Another pause. “And Luke gave them what they were waiting for, a confession that he’d imagined what it would be like to kiss Sam. To touch him.”
“Did it work?” Cold extended icy tendrils into Zeeb’s spine, his fingers…
His soul.
Nate nodded. “Mr. Thomas sounded pleased. ‘Good. You’re being honest. That’s the first step, Luke. Now, let’s go deeper. When you think of these boys—Sam, the others—what do you feel? Is it lust? Desire? The Lord tells us our hearts are the breeding grounds for sin. You must purify your heart, Luke. And you will. But first, you must confront every impure thought. Every single one.’” Nate gulped. “And even when Luke told them he felt ashamed, broken, that he hated feeling that way, that didn’t stop them. ‘What else, Luke?’ Mr. Thomas’s voice rose. “What other thoughts have you kept hidden? You must be truthful, or you’ll never be free. Tell us. Tell us what you’ve done, what you’ve thought, what you’ve imagined. We’re here to help. The Lord is waiting for your full confession.’
Zeeb was torn between wanting to help Nate reach the end of his story, and the desire to block his ears so he couldn’t hear any more.
“Luke knew he couldn’t stay silent. The longer he did that, the more they would push. So he fed them more lies, and with each new confession, Mr. Thomas nodded, taking notes. And when Luke was done, his soul peeled away layer by layer, the words out there so he couldn’t take them back, Mr. Thomas smiled. ‘Good boy. You’ve said it. You’ve confessed. Now, remember this, Luke: You will feel this shame every time you think of another boy. You will remember what it feels like tobetray the Lord’s plan. And you will fight it, or we will keep reminding you. Every single time.’”
Zeeb had heard enough.
