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Page 12 of Captivated (Salvation #3)

Chapter Eleven

Wake up!

WAKE UP!

Nate knew it was a dream, one of several that repeated in a cycle, sneaking up on him with the stealth of a predator watching from the deep shadows of his mind.

Waiting to pounce, sink its claws into his flesh, and drag him away, plunging him into horror once more.

It had started the same way it always did.

He was nine years old again, standing barefoot on the cracked linoleum floor of that place whose very name left a bitter taste in his mouth.

The fluorescent lights buzzed above him, cold and merciless, casting a sterile white glare across the narrow room.

The stale, institutional smell filled Nate’s nostrils.

The room was suffocatingly quiet, save for the occasional shuffle of shoes down the hallway, the muffled voices of counselors speaking in hushed tones.

It was an eerie calm before the storm.

He’d been here for almost three months now, since the night his dad had dragged him kicking and screaming into this place, his desperate pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears.

It’s for your own good. His dad’s words still echoed in Nate’s mind, like a broken record playing over and over, unable to stop.

For your own good.

The door creaked open, and Nate’s breath caught.

Dr. Keller entered, his presence filling the small, sterile room with an air of authority and control.

He was tall, imposing, with cold, calculating eyes that never seemed to blink.

When he spoke, his voice was smooth and icy, always polite, always firm, but laced with an unmistakable edge.

“Nathaniel. It’s time for our session.” Dr. Keller’s tone was that of a surgeon preparing for an operation. He pointed to one of the chairs pushed under the desk a few feet away. “Sit.”

Nate’s legs trembled. Every part of him wanted to refuse, but he knew better. Resistance was futile. In this place, there was no winning.

Not without learning to bend and break oneself into something else.

“I said sit.” The weight of Dr. Keller’s gaze fell on him like a physical force, pressing down on him, demanding compliance.

The camp was always like this. There were no escapes, no breaks.

The only reprieve was the silence that followed when they were finished with their daily sessions .

It was then that Nate could hide his true self—the one they were trying to beat out of him—and pretend to be just another sad, broken boy who’d been stripped of everything.

“Do you remember what we talked about yesterday, Nathaniel?” Dr. Keller drummed his fingers on the desk.

Nate swallowed hard, the words stuck in his throat. “Yes, sir,” he croaked.

“You’re making progress.” Dr. Keller leaned forward, his voice taking on an almost paternal tone. “We’re here to help you, Nathaniel. But only if you’re willing to listen. Only if you’re willing to change.”

Nate nodded mechanically. His mind felt fuzzy, distant, as though he were floating outside his own body. Every day was the same. The same humiliation. The same forced confessions. The same cruel reminders that he was wrong.

That he was broken.

Dr. Keller leaned back in his chair, his hands folded on the desk, his smile cold but reassuring.

“Today, we’re going to focus on your feminine tendencies.

” Disdain dripped from the word. “You’ve been showing resistance, Nathaniel, and we need to address that.

This is not who you are. This is not who you were meant to be. ”

Nate’s heart pounded, the panic rising in his throat. He’d seen the posters plastered around the camp, heard the whispers in the hallway about exercises and drills to “remedy” the so-called sickness inside him.

But there is no sickness. How can they remedy something that doesn’t even exist?

“Close your eyes,” Dr. Keller instructed, his voice now low and smooth.

Like a predator preparing to strike.

Nate’s throat constricted as he obeyed. The darkness behind his eyelids felt like a cage, a suffocating tomb.

He knew what was coming.

“When you think of yourself, Nathaniel,” Dr. Keller’s voice cut through the darkness, “what do you see?”

Nate clenched his jaw, trying to keep his breathing steady, to keep his thoughts from spiraling into that terrifying void. “I… I see me,” he whispered. His voice quivered, betraying him.

Dr. Keller’s too soft voice made Nate’s skin crawl. “And when you picture yourself, Nathaniel, do you see a boy or a girl?”

Nate’s eyes shot open, his heart hammering in his chest.

No, no, no…

“Answer me.” Dr. Keller’s tone sharpened. “Do you see a boy—or a girl?”

“I’m a boy.” The words stumbled out, barely a whisper.

“Say it louder. Say it like you mean it.”

“I’m a boy,” Nate repeated, the words like shards of glass in his throat.

The doctor’s eyes gleamed, a hint of satisfaction crossing his features. “That’s better. But we both know what’s really inside of you, don’t we?”

Nate felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He knew what the doctor meant. Nate knew it. He could see it in the eyes of the counselors, the other boys in the camp, how they stared at him with disgust, how they whispered about him when they thought he wasn’t listening.

Freak.

Sissy.

Deviant.

“Now, Nathaniel,” Dr. Keller continued. “We’re going to fix you.

We’re going to remind you of what’s natural.

What’s right. This is the only way to save you from yourself.

” He stood, his shadow looming over Nate like a dark cloud.

He walked to the small table in the corner of the room and picked up a set of photographs.

Then he returned to the desk and spread them out carefully.

Each one showed a girl, smiling, laughing, all of them wearing dresses or skirts.

“Look at these,” Dr. Keller instructed. “What do you see?”

Nate’s stomach turned. He didn’t want to look. He didn’t want to play this game anymore, but he knew what would happen if he refused.

His body would be punished.

His mind would be broken.

So he looked.

The faces of the girls in the pictures were all smiling, all happy, all carefree. Their lives seemed so simple, so full of what he could never have. He didn’t want to admit it, but he felt something stir inside him, an emotion he couldn’t name, a longing that terrified him.

“No,” he whispered to himself, shaking his head. “I’m not like them. I’m not.”

Dr. Keller slammed his hand down hard on the table, yanking Nate out of his thoughts, making him flinch.

“That’s the problem, Nathaniel,” he said with a sneer.

“You are like them—you just don’t want to admit it.

But we’re going to fix that. If it takes every single day, every single hour, we will do this until you understand.

” His gaze locked onto Nate’s. “Tell me you’re broken. ”

Nate shook his head.

I’m not. I’m not.

“Speak,” Dr. Keller barked. “Tell me you’re broken. Tell me you want to be fixed.”

Once more Nate shook his head, but the dream wouldn’t let him resist. Invisible hands pushed him forward, dragging the words from his mouth like knives.

The words he knew Dr. Keller wanted to hear. The words he expected to hear.

“I’m… wrong. I’m disgusting.”

The shame burned hotter than any fever. It stuck to his skin, soaked into his bones.

The next few hours were a blur of drills, forced readings, and endless, suffocating shame.

Nate’s chest was tight with the weight of it all, the pressure to conform, to be normal, to be something he wasn’t.

By the time the session was over, he was shaking uncontrollably, his mind a fractured puzzle of conflicting thoughts.

He’d said the right things. He’d tried. But the truth was, every time he looked in the mirror, he couldn’t escape what he felt.

The person he was, the one they wanted to cure, would never go away.

That’s who I am.

And then the dream shifted.

He was in the group room now. Rows of boys with hollow eyes stared blankly ahead. Mr. Carroll lectured from the front, his voice a dull monotone, like a church service with all the warmth stripped away.

“You must reject temptation. You must deny your nature.”

The boy next to him shook with silent sobs. Nate’s own legs refused to move, glued to the hard metal chair.

He was drowning.

Trapped.

Then came the worst part. The spiritual cleansing . And it was Nate’s turn. He tried to run, but the dream dragged him deeper, like barbed wire around his ankles. Hands grabbed his arms, and he screamed, but no sound came out.

“I don’t want this,” Nate tried to say. “I want to go home.”

Except there was no home. Not anymore. Only here. Only this.

Panic clawed its way up his throat. Somewhere, deep inside, a part of him realized he was still dreaming, but the walls wouldn’t melt, the floor wouldn’t give way to wakefulness. He banged his fists against the constraints of the nightmare, trying to punch a hole through them, to breathe.

Wake up, Nate, wake up!

He squeezed his eyes shut, his heart thundering so loud it hurt. Sweat poured off his forehead. His body was a furnace of terror.

Please wake up.

Then all of a sudden, he reached the precipice and the nightmare shattered, falling sharply onto the rocks below.

Nate bolted upright, gasping. The air in his bedroom was warm and real. The clock on the nightstand blinked 3:14 a.m. Moonlight spilled through the small window above his bed.

He pressed a shaking hand to his chest. Still alive. Still here.

Nate wiped the sweat from his brow with the edge of the sheet. His T-shirt was soaked through, clinging to his skin. His mouth tasted like copper.

For a long minute, he just sat there, letting the world around him settle back into focus. The rustic walls of the cabin. The sound of the creek beyond the window.

It’s over. It’s over.

But even as he whispered it, he knew the truth: it would never really be over.

Eleven years ago, he had escaped that place with nothing but the clothes on his back and scars no one could see.

But it still lived inside him, in his dreams, his memories, the parts of him he couldn’t scrub clean no matter how hard he tried.

He pulled his knees to his chest, resting his forehead against them.

Breathe .

Another.

Then another.

Nate closed his eyes and focused on the soothing ripple of the creek, wishing for something he couldn’t name, wishing for a world where none of this had ever happened.

Morning was only a few hours way. He could try to grab a couple more hours, but there was always the possibility that the moment he slipped back into sleep, the nightmare would be waiting for him.

What came to mind was Zeeb. His calm nature. His humor. His relaxed attitude.

He’s happy with his life, and yet he went through some stuff to get to this point.

Nate had been through a mountain of shit. He deserved every ounce of happiness that came his way.

The thought of claiming that happiness gave him the courage to face another day.