Gay Love Has The Power To Heal Pt 2

I couldn’t stop thinking about him lying on the gym floor covered in blood. I fell to my knees praying that it was only a nightmare, but it wasn’t.
Part 1
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I left Simon’s house in a mixture of shock, remorse, and despair. I made it about two blocks before the images of his scars and the nightmare flashes of him lying on the gym floor, covered in blood, had me on my knees, retching. I had thought it was just a nightmare, brought on by my guilt over not being able to accept that I was gay. I thought the nightmares were my punishment for pushing away the best thing that ever happened to me. Only they weren’t nightmares, they were real. Then the memories came flooding back to me. I remembered lying on his bed, with him kissing and caressing my body. He had made love to me with his mouth, moving over me, taking me places I had never been before. I remembered each moment of it, including the guilt and the overwhelming feeling that I had done something dirty, wrong. I had gotten up and ran out of there so fast. But that night I relived it over and over. In my heart I knew that what had happened wasn’t wrong.
Simon had come to my house the next day. When I opened the door, I saw how much he cared for me. We had been best friends from the time we were little. This was Simon. He was my friend and I loved him. But all the talk my dad kept pounding into my head kept coming back to me, over and over. So I pushed him away when all I wanted to do was invite him inside and tell my parents that I was in love. Fear...