“Pastor Watson is concerned for your soul,” her mother’s words cut like knives as she continued, “You need to mend your faith, Ava. You can’t turn your back on God or you’ll never see Heaven.”
“He turned his back on me!” Ava spat back, “You’re the one pushing me away, every fucking one of you!”
Neither of them spoke as Ava’s shaking hand grabbed the cross from where it rested in the hollow of her throat, tugging on it. The delicate chain snapped easily, clattering to the scratched surface of the dining table. There were appalled gasps from her mother and nana, her father’s angry voice booming but falling on deaf ears.
Ava was already halfway up the stairs, tears clouding her vision and making her stumble on the carpeted step. The rug burn on her knee stung but nothing hurt as much as the screaming. The knowledge that her family’s love was so conditional burned more than anything.
How can you do that to a child, shoving gross transliterations and bigoted views down their throat and call it love? It wasn’t love, they didn’t want to see growth or happiness at all. Nothing about that place was loving, it was colder than any arctic storm.
We were expected to accept it, all of it, without question. I was expected to beg for forgiveness and pretend I wasn’t dying inside from the pain they caused in the name of a God they forced me to believe. Things were ignored and swept under the rug; they were embarrassed of me and thought they could merely pray it away.
They wanted conversion? I gave them metamorphosis instead.
Healing!AU; is there something missing or is that just what you were conditioned to think?
CW: religious trauma, manipulation, internalized homophobia and homophobia in general; this is just me trauma dumping <3
***
It was supposed to get better with time, healing wasn’t linear after all. Ava hated that, especially since she knew it was true. It had been over a decade since they left, so why did it still hurt so bad? Just one more time life spat in their face if she was being honest, like some cruel joke that didn’t have a punchline.
Some days it didn’t feel so bad, of course she had days where life felt like it had improved exponentially. In a sense it really had, they had been lucky in the end. Leaving had been hard but staying would have been worse; losing oneself to manipulation is not the best way to live out your days. Ava was one of the better off ones, free to live life without those people hounding her over every decision and breath. She no longer flinched at every thought she had that would have been considered “impure”, though they would admit that the memories sometimes did still influence her internal voice a bit more than they should.
Something that always managed to sneak back in was one voice in particular. Her tone was always condescending, ringing through Ava’s mind as a shrill reminder of their fuck ups. Maria had always been like that, so passive aggressive as she explained to a group of twelve year olds why they might go to Hell. Back then it had been overwhelming, especially when they were supposed to be playing games. Youth groups were supposed to be a fun social event in the middle of the week, maybe a lesson wrapped into a game or a story told over snacks. Maria liked to do that but her lessons were never lighthearted, they always held just a little too much judgement or narcissistic opinion to land the way they should. She seemed so proud of herself when she told those young girls that reading Harry Potter was a sin and one of their uncle’s was going to Hell because he married a man.
It was Maria’s voice that still hung around, muttering a remark when Ava least expected it. All throughout high school and even into her medical education she dealt with it in silence, too afraid to really acknowledge it. She had never even told the youth pastor about her sexuality, though they assumed it had been a bit too obvious that the young teen had had a major crush on her best friend at the time. Even still, a lot of what she had said in general during those groups had stuck around, warping Ava’s sense of self beyond recognition. Even after she had come out as bisexual to their friends in high school, it didn’t feel freeing. Saying it out loud felt like a stab in the gut every time, reminding them how much they had strayed from their upbringing. It took two more years to admit they were actually a lesbian and even longer for her to realize that their gender did not align with those teachings either.
“You disgust us,” Maria’s voice rang loud and clear as if Ava had actually heard her say it before, “Look at you, still so broken after so many people tried to fix that.”
It felt dehumanizing, especially now that they were an established adult. She was a cardiothoracic surgery fellow for goodness’ sake; that seemed like a hell of a better life than any small town pastor ruining the lives of queer kids. Still, she couldn’t shake the thoughts away, plagued by them in probably the worst moments possible. It was mortifying when they had a less than platonic night with her best friend in uni, stopping her mid-kiss because Ava’s mind was screaming obscenities in a distracting amount.
That didn’t end there, of course, and eventually it impacted her social life in general, not just romantically. They stopped coming out to people right away, usually a lot more confident and unapologetic about her sexuality. No one in her new workplace even knew their preferred pronouns, especially not with the way they presented femininely almost always. That was just how Ava was comfortable with themself, but it certainly didn’t help convince anyone when she did explain that they were indeed nonbinary. It felt like with every step forward they ended up getting dragged back three more just as another kick in the gut, no amount of anxiety medication or inner child healing able to mend the fear that their identity would ruin her life somehow.
The first time Ava had tried to use she/they pronouns for herself, alone in an empty apartment and staring at their reflection, they almost cried. The way “Their name is Ava, she uses she/they pronouns” felt coming out of her mouth was simultaneously the most freeing and painful thing. It made things all make sense in that moment, the absolute euphoria successfully tuning out Maria’s mocking voice for just a second. It all hit later that night, though, when the lights were shut off and textbooks had been closed. With nothing to keep her distracted, Ava’s mind began to run rampant.
Before long it felt like she was back in that childhood bedroom again, laying in bed clutching onto her favourite stuffed animal after Wednesday night youth group. The pastors had all been there, Maria’s bosses helping her teach the kids that night. She couldn’t recall what sparked the conversation but suddenly the mood had shifted from talk of music videos to a stern sit down around the lesson table. The group of teens were reminded that homosexuality was an inexcusable sin, comparing it to that of murder without hesitation. It was selfish, spitting in God’s face and walking straight into the Devil’s waiting arms.
That was something Ava never understood, why they compared gayness to the act of killing someone in cold blood. It wasn’t in the ten commandments to not kiss girls, so why on Earth could God, or anyone, hold them to the same light? It didn’t matter at that moment, though, because Ava had felt ill the whole car ride home. She climbed into bed that night and flinched when her mum came in to pray with her before bed, the usually calming words feeling foreign and painful in her mouth. They started crying the second that telltale click of the bedroom door broke the silence, the weight of her secrets weighing down on their heart far too much. They begged and pleaded for God to answer her prayers that night, asking a billion times for forgiveness. She would make a crush on a boy in her class instead of her friend Nathalie, they promised Him, even though Ava knew that wasn’t how it worked.
That’s how Ava felt now, well into her late twenties with makeup streaked down her cheeks. She still had that raggedy horse plushie clutched in their arms once again, its once white fur becoming even more discoloured by the tear stains dropping onto its matted body. The comfort didn’t help much, its healing abilities lost along with her youth, but Ava still held it close. She had stumbled to the bathroom after sleep was impossible to come by, now with shaking hands holding the edge of the sink. Their chest ached as they stared at the reflection, all those voices of people who claimed to love her merged into one big boom. Her mind was in turmoil, though her grandmother’s voice was loud above it all; reminding her of those words she uttered right after Ava came out the first time.
“Don’t tell your papa. Don’t tell anyone.”
A sob slipped out without her consent, shaking Ava’s body once more. It was all they could do to catch themself on the counter’s ledge before her legs gave out, exhausted from the exams they had done mere hours before and the emotional baggage hitting her like a bus. The toy tumbled to the ugly linoleum under her feet, both hands supporting their weight as Ava looked her reflection in their bloodshot eyes. It was as if her twelve year old self was staring right back, shaking and begging her to pretend it never happened and act normal before it was all too late.
It was too late, though, and they knew it far too well. That didn’t stop the words that fell out of her mouth, too much of a bad taste to remain unspoken any longer.
“W-what am I missing… What did I do wrong? Tell me what the fuck you w… what you want from me already; I can’t stand this.”
“I miss the old you.” if you can make it work for metamorphosis?
“Oh, Ava, you poor thing,” Maria’s condescending tone burned their ears, “You’ve let him get to you.”
“I did not,” Ava muttered into the empty air, “I didn’t do anything.”
Her old mentor’s image was clear in their mind, glaring at her mockingly when she squeezed her eyes shut, “You did. You let Satan into your heart the second you left.”
“You pushed me away. You ruined me,” she spat back, covering her ears to block out the bible verses being thrown at her like a whirlwind.
“I miss the old you, you were such a good girl back then. You’ve given you life to sin, Ava, you’ve broken your family’s hearts.”
“Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off!”
“How vulgar,” Maria crooned, “What happened to you?”
“You did!” Ava couldn’t stop shaking as she curled into herself on the floor, “Get the fuck out of my head!”
The flashbacks didn’t stop for a while, paired with that nagging voice filling her with anxiety. She felt like she was suffocating, thrown back into that freezing cold back room of the church she hated so much. Everything was clear as day, from the painted handprints on the ceiling to the stale scent of the shitty space heaters. She was 12 years old again, being berated for holding her best friend’s hand, and she had never felt so small.
“Please stop,” she begged as shifted and accidentally bonked her head off the frame of her bed, “I left, I fucking left that church and I’m never going back. God, if you’re even fucking listening; why are you doing this to me?”
